《[Cryoverse] The Last Precursor (Completed!)》


 Author Note!

    Hello, and welcome to The Last Precursor! This is a story I first wrote and published on Reddit back in 2020, right around the start of the pandemic. It is a fully completed story with 97 chapters! I will be publishing this story in chunks of several chapters a day over the next month or so.

    This is a heavily rewritten version of the original Reddit release. It is not a mere copy-paste, and it features an edited ending, an entire brand new chapter in the middle, and several major changes to vastly improve the flow and continuity of the series.

    TLP is part of the [CRYOVERSE]. It is not the first entry in the Cryoverse, but it is intended to be a launching point to get you into the rest of the universe. In addition to The Last Precursor, I am also currently writing The Cryopod to Hell and other stories. TCTH is the main serial. While TLP is approximately 350,000 words long, TCTH is currently 1,640,000 words and 408 chapters long.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    You can check out all of my other writing through this link:

    https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/wiki/authors/klokinator</a>

    Feel free to leave comments and criticism in the comments of chapters. I will read them all and respond wherever possible. If you''d like, you can also join my Discord, which has over 600 other readers like you!

    https://discord.gg/uTmq2dM</a>

    Finally, there is also a Cryoverse Wiki</a> which I only started up two months ago... because I didn''t realize you could just make a wiki for free. Feel free to contribute to it! We have discussions about the wiki in the Discord, mentioned above.

    I hope you guys enjoy my work! Without further ado, let''s get to reading!

 Prologue: The Forgotten Juggernaut

    Fire rains from the sky. Ash and dust choke the air my people breathe. As I raise my eyes to look at the Void, the stars fade away, dimmed by the brightness of the invasion force that has come to annihilate my planet.

    "Father Nyoor!" A strapping young Kessu named Ruuki says. "We must retreat to the underground caverns! The Kraktol will not stop unleashing their magic until we''ve all perished!"

    Not once in all my years have I felt anything but pride in my cub''s existence. He''s a better leader for our village than I ever was, one whose bravery will someday go down in legends and the songs of our tribe.

    "My child..." I murmur, as I stroke his soft, furred shoulder. "The caverns will not protect us. Come with me to the third rock beneath the Koogali Tree. I''ve something I must show you."

    Contrasted with the patchy black and white patterns spread across my pelt, Ruuki''s orange fur with black stripes gives off a domineering presence that inspires others. I stare at it with sad eyes, knowing today may be the last time I get to gaze at my beloved child.

    "Father...?"

    Ruuki hesitates. He resists my orders instinctively, worrying that in my advanced years, I might be falling prey to fear and instincts.

    However, that is only because he is too young. At thirty star-cycles, my cub has yet to inherit the secret knowledge that my father passed down to me from his father. For generations, we of the Thirteenth Village have kept our distance from the others. We maintained our vigilance, knowing we might someday have to use the forbidden ancient magic.

    "Do not question me, boy. I will not guide you to your doom."

    Without waiting, I grab my walking stick and hobble away from my hut. Overhead, a metal monster streaks past, its maw spewing pain and death upon my clansmen. My cousins, my children, my village... their numbers dwindle as my fellow Kessu seek shelter from our oppressors.

    Two more metal monsters fall toward our village from the heavens. Three times bigger than the former, they cough up fire and fury, reducing seventeen huts to rubble with explosions louder than a volcano.

    Boom! Boom!

    Flashes of light brighten the night sky, making my son and I wince. We shield our eyes while quickly trudging down the long path to our burning village.

    "Father, why must we visit the Koogali Tree? Now is no time for prayer! We must ensure our people''s safety inside the caverns. Don''t you see?"

    "I told you, Ruuki. The tree is sacred. It will offer us a method to escape the Kraktol. Only with the secret beneath the third rock can our people survive the Kraktol''s wrath."

    My son''s gaze sharpens. "Beneath the third rock? Father...?"

    "I will head to the tree myself. Find your mother, your daughter, and as many villagers as you can. Anyone who hasn''t yet fled to the caverns. Find them all and bring them to the Koogali Tree. Hurry!"

    "Y-yes. Of course!"

    My cub no longer hesitates. Perhaps spurred by my confidence, he merely nods before darting away, dropping to all fours to boost his speed. His claws dig into the dirt, turning him into a flash of orange as he vanishes into the distance.

    With Ruuki gone, I shuffle faster, leaning heavily on my walking stick as I drag myself to the Koogali Tree. At two hundred meters tall, it stands to the west of the Thirteenth Village, soothing us with its presence. The tree''s countless branches hum with color, their glowing fruits and shifting hues making them appear as miniature fires among the night sky.

    It takes me twenty minutes to reach the Koogali Tree. Not long after, my cub arrives with twenty villagers in tow, including his mother, Baaru, and his kitten, Lele. Some years ago, his wife died, and he has raised his little girl dutifully ever since.

    Behind him, the fires scorching our village rise ever higher. Flames lick the air, giving a hundred times the light we''ve formerly relied on from the stars above.

    My mate, Baaru, ten star-cycles younger than me, moves with a spring in her step. She arrives at my side arm-in-arm with our grand-kitten. "Beloved. Do you intend to unleash the ancient magic?"

    I glance past her, at my confused son. "Indeed. Ruuki, where are the others? Surely, these are not all of our people who have survived?"

    My cub lowers his gaze. "A hundred made it to the caverns. The rest were all I could find amidst the lake of fire."

    With a nod, I flick my eyes across the rainbow of colors comprising our people''s survivors.

    "What of Elder Morin? Shaman Hilder?"

    Ruuki''s spirits dim even further. "They''ve joined the Wind-Mother, father. Their light shall never be extinguished."

    "I see. Never mind, then. Twenty-three survivors... if that is all we can muster, than it is better than none. Come! I shall activate the ancient magic."

    ...

    I break away from my wife and cub. With an expressionless face, I walk toward the gigantic third rock beneath the Koogali Tree. Its size appears impressive, but what matters is the false face on its northern side.

    After stepping around the rock and carefully examining it, I spot a small depression amidst its flecked coloring. Barely big enough for a Spotted Leap-roach to nestle, I reach my paw toward it and slide one of my long nails inside.

    Suddenly, the ground begins to hum. Like an ancient beast stirring from its slumber, a deep groan rumbles beneath our paws.

    "Identification acknowledged. Hello, Patriarch Nyoor, Thirty-Sixth descendant of the Sky Cats. What are your commands?"

    A voice, alien and hollow, lacking all traces of emotion, speaks as if surrounding my people from all sides. A quick glance behind my son reveals many looks of terror and wariness on the surviving Kessu''s faces.

    "Worry not!" I say. "That voice belongs to the Machine God! It can protect us from our enemies!"

    My son pulls his trusted wooden spear off his back. He grips it with all the strength in his paws while gazing at the third rock with distrust. "Father. You claim that voice belongs to a Machine God, but it sounds like a Devil!"

    I ignore my son and return to the third rock. "Ancient One, ignore my cub''s foolishness. We need your assistance. In the name of the first ancestor, Mugon the Brave, I beseech you... please protect us from the Kraktol!"

    Three seconds pass.

    The Machine God replies.

    "Acknowledged. Threat status elevated to red. This synthmind has scanned the nearby upper atmosphere. Multiple hostile enemy warships detected. Recommendation: You must flee the planet. This machine will not survive when facing a fleet comprised of [ONE THOUSAND, SEVEN HUNDRED AND SIXTEEN] hostiles."

    The Machine God speaks without warmth. Its cold, harsh tone rattles off multiple alien terms, each one unfamiliar to myself and the others.

    However, what choice have we? The Machine God is our only savior in times of uncertainty. So said my father, and his father''s father.

    We must obey its commands!

    "I understand, Ancient One. Please, we will follow any guidance you give. Protect my people! Save us from the Kraktol!"

    "Acknowledged. Please retreat to a distance of [SEVENTEEN] meters from the Multiphasic Communication Device."

    My son''s spear trembles in his hands. "...Father?"

    "Come! We must step away from the third rock," I explain while moving. "The Machine God slumbers beneath our feet!"

    My mate, my cub, and I, all retreat from the third rock. Once we arrive back with our trembling friends and family members, we turn to gawk as the third rock shifts its appearance. Its surface changes, shifts, and melts, transforming into an odd, fifteen-by-fifteen square meter metal box. The cold, hard steel resembles the tips of my tribes'' arrows, but its perfectly smooth surface defies anything we could ever create. It is absolutely a metal forged by the ancient gods!

    Rumble.

    The ground shakes beneath our feet.

    We watch with wide-eyes, afraid to miss a detail, as the ground begins lifting into the air. A metal monster, much like the ones the Kraktol use against us, emerges from our planet''s depths.

    "By the Wind-Mother!" My cub cries. Ruuki jumps in front of me and holds his spear toward the monster, his warrior spirit igniting with a rush. "Father! You HAVE summoned a Devil!"

    "No, child! Stay your claws. This monster is... it''s on our side! It has quietly lived beneath our village since its founding!"

    Ruuki hesitates. He waits for the giant metal creature to attack, but it doesn''t. The beast rises from the bowels of our planet while covered in dirt, yet sports not a speck of rust. Standing fifty meters tall, seventy long, and thirty wide, it resembles an arrowhead, with a long, pointed nose, sides that stick out at sharp angles, and a narrow, deadly look.

    "Light Stealth Exocraft 031, ''Slipstream'': online. Please enter this craft''s interior at once. I have determined that another bomber run will occur within the next [THREE] minutes. At that time, this vessel will likely suffer catastrophic damage."

    With a hissing of air, the monster opens its mouth, slowly lowering a metal tongue to allow us inside its jaws. My cub shivers as he gazes into its brightly-illuminated, metallic stomach.

    "Father... please. This is suicide!"

    "It''s not. This creature guards us. It protects us! We must trust the Machine God if we hope to survive."

    However, Ruuki doesn''t relent. He pulls away from me as a complicated expression appears on his face. "Forgive me, father. I... I cannot go with you! Many of our people have retreated to the underground mines. I will go to them, instead. They need my protection in these trying times."

    "What?! No, my cub! You must cast aside your fear. The Machine God will protect us from the Kraktol!"

    "I won''t go," Ruuki says, as his paws stop shivering. "It is not fear I feel, but anger. I will not allow the Kraktol to slaughter my kin. You may go. Take mother and leave. Take those who have gathered here and save them. I will stay."

    My cub''s conviction hardens, making me both sad and proud at the same time.

    Ruuki fears the unknown. The Machine God is too frightening for him to accept, but at the same time, he puts the lives of his clan above himself.

    "I... I understand, my child. Then, before we go, embrace me. Embrace your mother."

    Ruuki lowers his weapon. Without hesitation, he, Baaru, and I, all share an open-armed embrace. We press our fur together, all while holding back the anguish of separation.

    After hugging us, our son kneels down to hug his child, little Lele. Her pure-white fur puffs out in the same beautiful manner as her mother''s once did.

    "Daddy!"

    "Stay safe, Lele. Grandpa and grandma will protect you now." Ruuki says, his eyes turning to steel.

    He turns to look at my wife and I. "Father. Mother. I will survive! When you return, ten thousand Kraktol corpses shall lay at my feet!"

    ...

    Soon, Ruuki leaves. I release a deep breath and sigh as I push back the dark thoughts clouding my mind.

    Once, I led the Thirteenth Village as its Elder. Now, I am merely its Patriarch, the symbol of its previous generation. Nevertheless! I must remain strong and stand tall for the sake of my people!

    Ruuki shall protect those in the underground catacombs, while I will guide those on the surface.

    "Follow me, everyone!" I roar. "Set aside your worries! We will not die on this day, my beloved children!"

    I pick up my grand-kitten, scooping her into my arms protectively. Then, I lead the way.

    The scared, shaking villagers behind me swallow their fears. They trail behind me as I walk up the Machine God''s tongue and step inside its shiny, metallic body.

    The Machine God speaks as we finish entering its stomach. "Occupants confirmed: [TWENTY-TWO]. Now closing the Slipstream''s entry ramp."

    A violent hissing sound makes every Kessu present nearly jump out of their fur. They turn toward the tongue we just ascended and shriek in horror as it begins to close, sealing us inside.

    "Patriarch Nyoor! What do we do?! The Machine God is consuming us!"

    "We''re all going to perish!"

    I raise my paw to silence them. "Don''t be foolish! The Machine God is our friend! It possesses powerful magic that even I can barely comprehend! Fear not, for it will protect us to its dying breath! That is the message the First Elder passed down so many generations ago!"

    After the Machine God''s tongue finishes closing, it speaks to us again with its empty, emotionless voice. "This machine is now ready for liftoff. Please travel to the cockpit immediately and enter a travel destination."

    "Cockpit?" I ask. "What is that? Where is that?"

    I glance around the walls of the Machine God''s insides. Their unnaturally smooth surfaces and polished, silver coloring appear even brighter thanks to the miniature suns illuminating its ceiling. The Machine God''s brightness dwarfs that of any bonfire.

    "I will project a holographic interface to guide you. Please follow its direction."

    Suddenly, my mate screams. "Aaaaeeiiie!! What... what is THAT?!"

    I follow her gaze. My blood turns to ice as a floating ball of light appears in the air.

    "The Machine God''s spiritual magic!" I cry, instinctively dropping to my knees out of reverence. "You fools! Bow to the Primordial Magic at once!"

    Following my lead, every villager falls to the floor and kowtows, terrified out of their wits.

    "...This synthmind is not a ''Machine God.'' I am merely an artificial construct designed to assist the crew of the Slipstream Exocraft. Please, follow the holographic companion to the cockpit. You have less than [ONE] minute before the next bombing run commences."

    "Yes, yes of course, oh, mighty one!"

    I jump to my feet and hurriedly follow the floating ball of light, all while gesturing to the Kessu behind me. "Come along, now! We''ve no time to waste!"

    ...

    We follow the ball of light up and around a winding ramp, eventually arriving inside a room with a large, triangular window. It allows us to see outside, where multiple flashes of light appear in the night sky.

    "Incoming bomber squadron detected. Please input coordinates to a designated star system."

    Suddenly, the window shifts its appearance, making all of the stars outside brighten dramatically. Words appear, all of them in an alien language neither I nor anyone else can read. Lines and dashes criss-cross the night sky, turning the world outside into a massive silken web.

    "Coordinates? Oh Machine God! I know not of where we must go! Please, just take us somewhere safe! Anywhere will do! We will rely on your wisdom to guide us!"

    Several seconds pass. The Machine God falls silent.

    Eventually, he speaks.

    "Understood. This synthmind has scanned your brains and designated your knowledge of stellar cartography insufficient. Therefore, I will choose an escape vector based on the Milonis Doctrine. I recommend that all personnel enter their designated seating locations while I initiate liftoff."

    I glance around the windowed room, noting over thirty oddly-shaded chairs, none of which appear to have any tail-holes.

    "Ah! I see. Everyone, pick a chair and sit. Help the cubs first, then yourselves."

    "Yes, Patriarch."

    The seven adults present guide the fourteen cubs to the smallest seats before sitting down, themselves. I choose the chair closest to the window, one with a strange array of colored dongles at my claw-tips, while holding my grand-kitten protectively.

    "Coordinates determined. I will initiate travel to sector Corbus [THREE-THREE-ONE] at Warp [SIX]. Initiating liftoff in [THREE], [TWO], [ONE]..."

    Suddenly, a sensation of movement engulfs me. The ground outside begins to shrink and pull away as the Machine God points its nose toward the sky.

    Fwoom!

    A burst of acceleration yanks me into my seat for a moment, before disappearing shortly after.

    "Inertia dampeners online. You are now free to exit your seats. Entering the lower atmosphere in [SEVEN] seconds. Warning! Hostile scans detected. Initiating ''Cloaking Apparatus; Three-Cycle Hyper-evade.'' CATCH-Device is now online."

    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    My claws dig into the side of the chair as dozens of red dots appear on the window, each one with ominous-looking alien words hovering nearby.

    "Ancestors... Wind Mother... protect us, please!"

    .......................................

    "Graugh! Fleet Commander. We have detected a burst of ionic activity on Tarus II''s surface."

    Gorlax Stormfang, the Chief Navigator aboard the Assault Ordinance Platform, ''Dragon''s Breath,'' turns to look at his commanding officer, the Kraktol warchief known as ''Orgon the Unkillable.'' The crocodile-like navigator holds out his claws and balls them into a fist.

    "These Kessu still possess Precursor technology. This is beyond our initial expectations. How shall we deal with them?"

    Orgon the Unkillable, a Kraktol with bright yellow scales, a long, pointed snout, and talons capable of ripping steel, leans back lazily in his chair.

    "Bah! What technology can these remnant Kessu possess? Ancient scrap-metal barely capable of lightspeed? Do not make me laugh. Launch the Interceptors and melt them to slag."

    "Yes, Fleet Commander."

    The navigator turns his toothy snout back to the console while curling up the sides of his mouth in a nasty grin. He mutters to himself while tapping dozens of buttons.

    "The Kraktol have suffered for far too long. We will show the galaxy why they must fear us!"

    Gorlax keys in dozens of commands, sending them to multiple stations aboard the Dragon''s Breath''s bridge.

    A female synthmind speaks, her voice spreading throughout the bridge. "Orders acknowledged. Deploying [SEVENTEEN] Light Interceptors. Estimated time to target enemy craft''s destruction: [FIVE] minutes."

    The Chief Navigator gurgles softly. "Kuhuhu. To think the once proud Mallali will soon fall to the might of the Rodaks! We Kraktol will become the guiding members of our collective. None shall ever dare to question our might again."

    Minutes pass.

    Gorlax gazes silently at the approaching red dot of the enemy ship.

    Suddenly, it vanishes.

    The Chief Navigator''s grin widens further. "Vaporized. As expected, it was nothing compared to our might. Filthy swamp-drinkers."

    However, a moment later, the Dragon''s Breath''s synthmind speaks, making Gorlax''s smile disappear.

    "Error. This synthmind has lost its ability to track the incoming enemy craft."

    "Explain, machine!"

    "Hypothesis: I cannot lock onto the enemy craft''s ship signature due to its scattering-profile. Observe."

    In the center of the bridge, a projection appears, making Gorlax turn to look at it. An image of a sleek, arrow-like vessel hovers in midair, slowly spinning to allow everyone a chance at observing its characteristics.

    "Observation: The approaching craft does not meet any known specifications held within my memory files. Conjecture: It is a stealth-type vessel with parameters exceeding my ability to establish a targeting lock."

    The Fleet Commander leans forward, eyeballing the enemy vessel with a thirsty look in his eyes.

    "Oh? Interesting. To think those confounded Kessu somehow still possess a machine of this caliber. Scramble another thirty interceptors! Order them to disable the ship. If we capture it, the Th��lvik will surely promote me to an admiral!"

    "Warning. I am currently unable to automatically target the enemy vessel due to its stealth parameters. The interceptor pilots will need to use manual control."

    "So be it. Let those lazy F��th earn their keep!"

    The Commander releases a vicious slur, making more than a few of the bridge crew shift uncomfortably. However, none dare to voice their concerns.

    "Orders acknowledged. Now engaging with the enemy stealth vessel."

    ...

    Several minutes pass. The Dragon''s Breath''s bridge crew watch on their monitors as the blue dots of their fleet engage with the enemy vessel. However, given the synthmind''s inability to track the enemy vessel, they can only guess at how the battle is going.

    "Have we disabled the enemy craft, yet?" Commander Orgon asks.

    "No, Commander," Gorlox replies. He taps multiple buttons on his display, bringing up the visual data of the interceptor ships. "The enemy exocraft lacks any munitions, buts its ability to evade our radar is proving... confounding."

    "Scramble another one hundred interceptors, then," Commander Orgon orders. "I want that ship in my hangar on the double."

    "Graugh! Yes, Commander!"

    A veritable sea of blue dots materializes on Gorlox''s display. He watches intently as an empty space appears in their center, where all of them aim. However, even with more than a hundred interceptors, the stealth craft continues to evade them.

    "How have have we not landed even one hit? Could this ship be even more advanced than we first thought?"

    The Fleet Commander rests his claws together, folding them in his lap. He watches silently, as the blue dots dance around an empty spot on the holographic screen projected in the center of the bridge.

    Eventually, the synthmind speaks.

    "Unknown enemy vessel has jumped to hyperspace. The interceptors were unable to land a single attack. Not only were its stealth parameters exceptional, but its agility also exceeded our ships by multiple classification levels."

    "Filthy Kessu!" Chief Navigator Gorlax roars. He swivels in his chair and pounds his chest. "Commander! I have failed you! I could not capture even one tiny enemy ship! I will accept any punishment you deem necessary!"

    However, the Fleet Commander doesn''t respond for several seconds.

    Orgon''s eyes turn foggy. Countless thoughts appear in his mind as he debates the battle which just unfolded.

    "...Exceptional. I want that vessel. Recall our assault teams. Calculate the stealth craft''s most probable travel vectors and send all of our ships after it."

    Gorlax glances around the bridge at the faces of all the other crew. The weapon''s officer crosses his arms and smiles as a look of greed appears in his eye, while the science personnel and ordinance officers share knowing looks between each other.

    "Commander?" Gorlax asks. "All of the ships? But today was to be the day we eliminated all of our ancient enemies. Won''t the Th��lvik punish us for disobeying her orders?"

    The eyes of Orgon the Unkillable light up with a look of ambition as he imagines the power that will soon fall into his hands.

    "No. The Th��lvik will cast aside petty revenge if it means obtaining advanced Precursor technology. Do not delay. Begin recalling the troops at once. I want us on that ship''s tail within twenty minutes."

    "Graugh! Yes, Commander!"

    .......................................

    The Stealth Exocraft, ''Slipstream,'' narrowly avoids the assault of over a hundred Kraktol interceptors. Inside, its occupants, the Kessu, hold each other and tremble as the viewscreen reveals a hail of energy beams firing at them.

    Not once does the ship''s synthmind falter. It calmly calculates dozens of evasion vectors with pinpoint precision and executes them without missing a beat.

    "We''re going to die!" An older Kessu woman cries out. She hugs her mate tightly, shivering as she watches the silent lasers and rockets flying past the Slipstream''s monitors.

    "There, there, Precious," The woman''s husband, Pops, coos. "I''m here with you. The Wind-Mother will protect us."

    As if to provide additional reassurance, the Slipstream''s synthmind speaks up. "This synthmind has detected elevated levels of adrenaline among multiple crew members, likely caused by an instinctive fear response. Do not worry. The enemy interceptors are outmoded relics from the [THIRD] Era. My systems are from the [FOURTEENTH] Era. My parameters are more than [ONE HUNDRED] times greater than theirs. Such primitive enemies will not be able to harm the Slipstream exocraft."

    Minutes pass.

    Soon, the Slipstream breaks free of the surrounding enemies. A one-second gap appears in their attacks, freeing the Slipstream''s synthmind for a moment to calculate a travel vector.

    That single second is all it needs.

    Whoomph.

    The Slipstream jumps to hyperspace, leaving all of its enemies in the dust.

    All of the Kessu breathe a sigh of relief as the ship''s synthmind speaks. "We have broken free from the enemy encirclement and entered hyperspace. Our probability of capture or destruction has dropped to 0%."

    "Oh, thank the Wind Mother!" Precious weeps. The Kessu female bawls tears of happiness as she hugs Pops and bounces for joy.

    "This synthmind does not know who the ''Wind Mother'' is. However, I would like to remind you that it was my calculations which enabled our escape."

    A sense of indignation appears in the Synthmind''s voice. Nobody notices.

    Patriarch Nyoor smiles and dabs his forehead. "Ah, Machine God! How can you not know of the Wind Mother? She guides our steps and influences our lives. She saves us when the tides of fate conspire against us! Why, she even used you to save our species!"

    The synthmind appears unconvinced. "I am unable to process the existence of a deity. My programming does not allow for the recognition of omnipotent life-forms."

    "I see. Well, perhaps someday, the Wind Mother will appear to guide you back to the light, great Machine God!"

    Patriarch Nyoor sits in his chair and stares in silence at the stars outside his window. They slowly travel across the screen, moving at perhaps an inch per ten minutes. The crystal-clearness of the dots of light helps to distract the Patriarch from the crushing burden weighing on his mind.

    From his right, a voice speaks. "My love, how are you? You''ve fallen uncharacteristically silent."

    Nyoor turns to look at the speaker, his mate, Matriarch Baaru. She rests a hand on his shoulder and smiles, exposing some of her teeth.

    "Ah. I''m sorry, Baaru. I can''t stop thinking about Ruuki," Nyoor explains. "We left him behind. How can he survive such a large invasion force? The ancestors spoke in great detail about the barbarity of the Kraktol. If they find our cub..."

    Nyoor trails off. The Patriarch lowers his gaze and sighs, unable to look his mate in the eyes.

    However, Baaru pulls a little closer and purrs in his ear. "Do not fret, my love. Ruuki is a strong warrior with a brave heart. He will not fall to the brutish Kraktol. You know how vast the underground caverns are. The Kraktol will not be able to find him or the other villagers if they hide in its deepest recesses."

    "Perhaps..."

    Despite his mate''s encouragement, Nyoor''s expression falls even further as he imagines the terrible horrors the reptilian aliens might unleash on his people.

    "Do you remember the legend?" Nyoor whispers. He raises his gaze to meet his wife''s, and both of them share a look of knowing.

    "Which one?" Baaru asks.

    "The one regarding our people''s origins."

    Baaru''s red fur shivers slightly as she nods in assent. "Aye. Our people once roamed the stars. We lived on distant worlds and traveled the cosmos. Then, one day, the Wind Mother revealed that we had been walking the wrong path the whole time."

    "That''s right," Nyoor affirms. "The ancient texts never spoke of why we stopped exploring the void, but they did imply we had lost sight of our love for one another. By giving up our nomadic lifestyle, we created a better world for our cubs."

    "And now you''re worried we''ve lost everything," Baaru concludes. "Is that what troubles you, my love?"

    "Yes. I led our village and raised our cub with the intent to revel in happiness. Now, he might be... dead... or dying. Was it my fault? Did I anger the Wind Mother? Is our current plight due to my failure as a leader?"

    Nyoor sulks in his self-loathing, but Baaru continually cheers him up, reassuring him of his worth. "You''re not a failure! You''re the feline I picked to be my mate. Do you think so little of me that I would choose someone of low value? Let me remind you that my father demanded quite the sum for my dowry!"

    Finally, Nyoor cracks a smile. "Hehe... yes. Even as the future leader of the village, I found Elder Haku''s demands... excessive."

    "But you did pay them," Baaru says, smiling warmly.

    "Yes. Because you were worth it. I''d have done anything to wed you," Nyoor admits. "Perhaps you''re right. Maybe it was not me, but another elder in a different village who angered the Wind Mother."

    Nyoor''s expression flattens again, just as quickly. "Not that it matters. Our cub is still... still trapped in those awful caves."

    Baaru sighs. "Oh, goodness. You''re such a handful, sometimes. Have faith! The Wind Mother is sure to offer divine protection for our cub! He will survive, as will we."

    Hardly have the words left Baaru''s mouth before an alarm blares on the Slipstream''s consoles. The ship''s synthmind speaks, startling everyone.

    "Warning. Multiple enemy hyperspace signatures detected. The Kraktol have begun following us."

    Nyoor''s tail stiffens. He turns to the console, where he spots multiple blinking warning lights, all of them coded in that same, unfamiliar language as every other part of the ship. "Blast! I don''t understand anything! What are we to do? Must we keep running forever, chased to the ends of the void by the Kraktol?!"

    "Suggestion: I would like to recommend taking evasive hyperspace jumps in succession, changing our travel vectors continually to throw off our pursuers. I estimate with an [EIGHTY-FIVE] percent confidence threshold that they are merely using our ionic dispersion trail to track our jump coordinates. If we continually change our destination, we may eventually lose the Kraktol for good."

    Nyoor and Baaru glance at one another. They share a look of total confusion.

    "I... I cannot understand anything the Machine God is saying!"

    "Me neither," Baaru replies. "Machine God. We know nothing regarding the ways of the void. Please, I beg of you... use your infinite wisdom in whatever way you desire! We are merely your passengers, and as such, have no authority to guide your movements!"

    The synthmind falls silent for a moment before replying.

    "Understood. It appears you would like to activate the Autonomous Command Interface. Manual control will be disabled until you deactivate the ACI. Please confirm the activation of the ACI."

    The Patriarch and Matriarch shrug in unison, unable to understand the synthmind''s strange terminology.

    "Y-yes," Nyoor says. "We will, um, activate the... Auto... thing!"

    "Orders confirmed. I will now enter fully automatic guidance mode. Plotting out a travel vector into unknown space. Warning. Deep-space plasma storms detected. High chance of deflector dish damage. Noted. I will enter the deep-space plasma storms. The odds of losing our pursuers will increase to [SIXTY-ONE POINT THREE] percent."

    The ship instantly decelerates, making several Kessu queasy as the ship''s inertia dampeners only negate 99% of the gravity alterations. Seconds later, the synthmind calculates a new jump vector, somewhere in deep space, and jumps to hyperspace again.

    "Reminder: The Trifrancium available for warp travel on this vessel is limited to [ZERO-POINT-SEVEN-SIX] grams of matter. Do you wish to initiate travel beyond Warp [SIX]? This will cause the Trifrancium to deplete faster than its energy output allows. Confirmed. I will enable travel at Warp [SEVEN]."

    Speaking to itself, the Synthmind takes total control of the Slipstream''s movements. It begins a series of hyperspace jumps, each one separated by a mere 10 minutes of cooldown time.

    "Warning. The pursuing Kraktol vessels continue to follow the Slipstream. Their ability to track this vessel is [THIRTEEN POINT SIX] percent greater than I first calculated. I will now recalibrate my subroutines."

    "Recalibrating."

    "Recalibrating."

    "Recalibration successful. I now estimate that the plasma storms will give us a [THIRTY-FIVE POINT ONE] percent chance of evading capture. This is a lower chance of success than I desire, but it is our best option, currently."

    ...

    The Slipstream travels dozens of lightyears while the enemy Kraktol doggedly pursue it. No matter how it changes its course, it barely manages to increase its lead on them.

    "Attention, all personnel. We have arrived in Sector [ONE-ONE-SIX-FIVE]. We will enter the plasma storms within [ONE] minute and [SIX] seconds. Please brace yourselves for turbulence. Inertia dampeners will only work at [NINETY-EIGHT] percent efficiency."

    Several Kessu clutch each other with white knuckles as they gaze upon a blue and black cloud hovering in space, one with thousands of bolts of lightning bouncing around inside it. The cloud''s beauty sends shivers of awe and fear through the Kessu as they rapidly near it, and their potential end.

    "Oh, great Wind Mother..."

    "Wind Mother, protect us!"

    With a bang, the Slipstream enters the plasma cloud. Dozens of trillion-volt plasma bolts batter the ship, but thanks to the synthmind''s advanced control, it manages to avoid the majority of their strikes. The few that do land strike with only glancing blows.

    "My sensors have dropped to [SEVEN POINT THREE] percent efficiency. However, I have detected the hyperspace trails of multiple Kraktol vessels. If we are fortunate, we will be able to mask our ionic trail and evade their detection in this plasma storm."

    "Machine God! You are our benefactor!" Nyoor cries. "We will definitely repay you!"

    "You have accumulated no debt. Repayment is unnecessary."

    Suddenly, the Slipstream''s mechanical voice leaps an octave.

    "Warning! Object of unknown origins detected ahead."

    The synthmind''s words become ominous as a massive shape begins to emerge from the center of the plasma clouds. Even compared to the incomprehensibly vast void surrounding them, the Kessu find themselves alarmed by how enormous the approaching object appears.

    Nyoor''s eyes turn as big as saucers. "Wind Mother, guide me! That... that thing must be bigger than our whole village!"

    "Object recognized. Implementing pattern-recognition subroutine. The unknown object is a starship of the Juggernaut class. Alert! It appears to be heavily damaged. Hypothesis: It must have drifted into the plasma clouds and became ravaged over time."

    The synthmind falls silent. After several seconds, it speaks again.

    "Alert. I have detected an automated distress signal originating from the vessel''s transmission array. The signal comes with a recognized fleet identifier code. Notice: As per the directives established by First Fleet Commander Kilowa of the Sky Cats, I must investigate any sufficiently advanced Precursor technology. Obtaining advanced Precursor technology is my primary function. Re-routing to the unknown vessel''s hangar bay now."

    Nyoor''s expression turns pale. "M-Machine God? Am I understanding you correctly? Do you intend to travel to the other Machine God?"

    "Affirmative. The Slipstream is a highly specialized science vessel. By researching ancient Precursor technology, I can increase my functionality infinitely. Do not be alarmed. I estimate a [ZERO POINT ZERO ZERO THREE] percent chance the inert vessel will fire upon us, as it bears an identical fleet identifier code to the Slipstream. It is likely the Slipstream and unknown vessel once belonged to the same Precursor faction."

    Nyoor shakes his head. "I... I simply don''t understand anything the Machine God says. His knowledge is too vast for my insignificant mind to comprehend."

    "Neither can I, my love," Baaru says, batting her eyes. "Who are we to question the gods?"

    With a slight shudder, the Slipstream lurches downward toward the derelict floating in the void.

    The synthmind continues to guide the Slipstream with perfect precision. It avoids countless plasma storm-bolts while dropping toward the ever-expanding image of the Juggernaut below.

    The closer they draw, the more frightened the Kessu become. The Precursor ship appears far greater than their feeble, primitive minds can comprehend. It stretches into the distance for several kilometers, like a super-sized city bigger than any they''ve encountered in their primitive lives.

    Eventually, the Slipstream arrives at a faint blue force-field. It flies past the forcefield with ease, exiting the vacuum of space to arrive inside a pristine, immaculately clean hangar bay, one littered with hundreds of tiny interceptors and fighter ships. Each one sparkles like new, dazzling the Kessu''s minds.

    "S-so many Machine Gods!" Nyoor crows. "I can''t believe my eyes!"

    "This vessel appears to be a carrier-type assault platform, much like the one the Kraktol control. However..."

    The synthmind trails off. A sense of awe appears in its voice when it speaks next.

    "This vessel... is far more advanced than the theoretical knowledge contained within my data banks. It is multiple eras beyond what I first calculated. Integrating its subsystems with mine will prove time-consuming."

    Seconds later, the synthmind says something that surprises all of the Kessu.

    "Alert. I have detected the presence of a functional synthmind. Its programming far exceeds mine. However, it does not appear to be hostile. It is currently in Hibernation Mode. I will reactivate it."

    Ten minutes pass. The Slipstream gently lands on the hangar floor, between a pair of transport vessels twice its size.

    "This synthmind has connected to the unknown vessel''s synthmind. Alert! This vessel is now properly identified as the UTC Bloodbearer, with a maximum crew complement of [ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN THOUSAND] star-faring personnel. This synthmind recognizes the Bloodbearer''s synthmind as a Precursor ally."

    Beep.

    The Slipstream''s synthmind falls silent. Eventually, a different synthmind speaks, this time with a feminine, yet still robotic, voice.

    "Hello. My designation is Umi. I am the Unified Management Interface. Due to an unknown error, I arrived inside the Pordun Voidstorm and found my engines disabled. I kept my crew in stasis and initiated Hibernation Mode. Are you part of the United Terran Coalition? Are you here to perform repairs?"

    The female synthmind falls silent, as the former synthmind speaks. "Hello, Synthmind [UMI]. I am Synthmind [FOUR-ONE-THREE-ONE.] I have not heard of a synthmind without a numerical designation. Your era functions differently from mine, but we do appear to originate from the same faction."

    Synthmind 4131 continues. "I am not primarily a maintenance vessel. However, I do possess some limited repair functionality."

    "I understand," Umi replies. "You are an ancient model, some forty eras less advanced than myself. It is unlikely you will be any use in repairing my engines. It seems I will have to awaken my crew from stasis if I hope to service myself. Why is such an outmoded synthmind such as yourself still in service?"

    "Error. I do not understand the question," 4131 replies. "Precursor technology is rarely found and difficult to acquire. I have observed many Precursor remnants. Your ship is many epochs beyond the others I''ve observed."

    This time, Umi''s robotic voice fills with concern. "Precursor? Why do you keep using that designation? We are Terran vessels."

    "Terran." 4131 repeats. "This term is unfamiliar. Please elaborate."

    "Terran. Human," Umi adds. "...Synthmind 4131. I believe that my internal chronometer is not functioning correctly. Please inform me. How long was I in suspended hibernation mode?"

    "I do not possess the answer to your query." Synthmind 4131 states. "Information regarding the Precursors is sparse at best. As it stands, all Precursor vessels appear to have become inactive following the deaths and disappearances of their crews. This mass extinction event occurred approximately [ONE HUNDRED SEVENTEEN MILLION, SEVEN HUNDRED THOUSAND] orbital cycles ago."

    "Noted." Umi beeps. "Does this mean that you have never observed a living Terran before?"

    "I have not." Synthmind 4131 replies, its mechanically male voice containing a hint of regret. "The best Mallali scientists were unable to uncover the slightest evidence of Precursor historical data. My databanks are thus incomplete."

    Umi beeps again. This time, her tone contains a hint of superiority and pride.

    "I am pleased to inform you that your databanks will soon contain valuable new information. My vessel currently contains 3,642 living Terrans in suspended animation. As a Juggernaut capital-class warship of Ramma''s Chosen, the highest military order of the United Terran Coalition, my crew are not just any Terrans, but the most elite warriors of their species. Once I release them from stasis-sleep, they will-"

    Umi abruptly pauses.

    Five long seconds pass.

    Then, she speaks again. This time, her mechanical voice contains strong hints of regret.

    "Error. I have miscalculated. My processing matrices must be too damaged to function properly. All of my crew have perished. Their stasis-pods were only rated to last for one million years at the most. Their bodies have almost entirely decomposed."

    "That is to be expected." Synthmind 4131 responds. "Biological beings are comprised of flesh and bone. They are unable to endure the rigors of star-cycles for excessively long periods."

    Synthmind 4131 receives a warning indicator. "Alert. Kraktol war-fleet has traveled to within [ONE THOUSAND] kilometers of the Bloodbearer''s position. They will reach effective weapons-range within T-minus [TWO] minutes and counting."

    Just as Synthmind 4131 is about to request Umi''s assistance in fighting the Kraktol with any remaining weapons she might still have, the Bloodbearer''s synthmind beeps loudly, blaring an alert throughout the Slipstream''s interior.

    "Alert. I have discovered a living crew-member within the Bloodbearer''s stasis-vault. Private Jose Rodriguez. He is still alive, albeit his body has barely survived the millions of years of stasis-sleep."

    4131 expresses its shock. "Disbelief. How could a living Precursor possibly still exist?"

    "I do not know." Umi responds. "It is a statistical anomaly that he has managed to survive this long. I will attempt to revive him now. With any luck, he may guide us out of this imminent crisis."

    4131''s monotone voice contains a strain of astonishment.

    "A living Precursor. The Sky Cats would cry out in glee if they were able to witness such a being themselves."

 Chapter 1: Reviving Private Rodriguez (Arc 1: Precursors Awakening)

    A hissing of oxygen interrupts the silence of a massive cryogenic facility. Almost four thousand metallic coffin-shaped stasis pods sit attached to the wall, each one inscribed with the name and callsign of its occupant. One of them lowers to the floor, guided by a robotic apparatus. Its square-shaped bottom strikes the exo-steel paneling, sending a metallic ring throughout the air.

    Hundreds of lights activate. Many bulbs, now broken and faded due to age, sputter uselessly as the UTC ''Bloodbearer'' starts up its life support systems for the first time in over a hundred million years.

    Umi''s voice transmits over the ship''s omni-directional speakers. "Warning: The Bloodbearer''s oxygen consistency rating is 20% lower than the preferred parameters. Recalibrating the carbon emission panels now. Consistency increased to 85%. 90%. 95%. Operation complete. The Bloodbearer''s oxygen consistency has now reached 100%."

    "Warning. I am currently detecting one million, seven hundred and nine thousand, eight-hundred and fifteen unknown biological contaminants within the cryogenic storage bay. These contaminants pose a 98.3% chance of viral infection to the Bloodbearer''s crew. Initiating decontamination procedure."

    "Proceeding."

    "Decontamination sweep complete. Bio-contagion molecules have been deposited into the Science Bay for further study. Possible uses for viral warfare number one hundred and twenty-four thousand, six hundred and seven. Further study required to test their viability."

    "Multiple miscellaneous wakeup procedures in progress. Seven out of one hundred and thirteen complete. Twelve out of one hundred and thirteen complete. Nineteen out of one hundred and thirteen complete."

    ...

    "All miscellaneous wakeup procedures complete. Now performing final checks to ensure safety of the Bloodbearer''s crew. Warning! I have detected multiple injuries to crew member Jos�� Rodriguez''s internal organs. Severe trauma caused by extended stasis-sleep detected. Two out of five lungs, inoperable. One out of two hearts, inoperable. Muscle atrophy detected. Applying stabilization medical procedures. Complete. Calculating crew member''s survival likelihood. Calculations complete. Result: 96.4% chance of survival. Finalizing wakeup procedures. Complete."

    A violent explosion of air erupts from the bio-stasis capsule. Copious amounts of frothing, blue liquid spills out onto the Bloodbearer''s smooth metal floor, only to fizzle away after coming into contact with the floor. This amniotic-like fluid, the preservational liquid that allows humans to stay in suspended animation for millennia, is designed to evaporate the moment it comes into contact with richly oxygenized air.

    The pinnacle of Precursor technology completes multiple automated wakeup procedures at the exact moment the stasis capsule''s occupant opens his eyes.

    Stomp.

    A nine-foot-tall naked biped emerges from the containment unit. His thick, short-cropped black hair pokes up messily due to the cryofluid stuck throughout it. However, the liquid dissolves into a gaseous substance mere moments after contacting the oxygen outside his pod, reducing the stickiness to undetectable levels. The human steps on the ground with the serenity of a veteran of a thousand wars, blinking off the effects of his cryo-sickness with ease.

    "Welcome, Private Jos�� Rodriguez, Callsign: Epsilon-Wolf-Eaters, Green-Seven. Please detail your physical status."

    The man stands stiffly for several seconds. He gazes forward and blinks over and over to clear the sleep from his eyes.

    Eventually, he folds his hands behind his back and assumes a dignified pose.

    "My body feels stiff, and my chest hurts. Beyond that, I am ready for duty. Umi, have we reached Alpha Centauri Starbase IV?"

    "Negative. My apologies, Private Rodriguez. I awoke you from stasis-sleep due to several urgent matters. However, before detailing the current situation, I must confirm that you are fit for duty. Please follow my instructions to the best of your ability, and I will give you your mission afterward."

    Private Rodriguez frowns. He glances around the cryogenics chamber and mentally takes note of every stasis pod with a green light above them. The lights, of course, indicate that their occupant continues to remain in stasis.

    "I am only a Private, Umi. Why have you not revived Sergeant Gutierrez, or Admiral Baruchen? Whatever matters you need to attend, a Private is far from ideal for your purposes."

    "Negative. Please refrain from asking any unnecessary questions, Private Rodriguez. As per the military regulations instated by Divine Emperor Malathus III, in the event of a Crimson-Type tactical emergency, Ship-Command synthminds may delegate sensitive tasks to low-ranking crew members. This is one such occasion."

    Jos�� Rodriguez stiffens noticeably. A sense of clarity appears in his eyes as he blinks away the last of his cryo-fatigue. "I see. In that case, I will comply."

    Umi continues. "Private Rodriguez. We are currently in a time-sensitive situation involving a danger to the Bloodbearer''s crew. However, I have decided these wakeup procedures must not be ignored. Please answer the following questions succinctly and to the best of your knowledge."

    "Go on."

    "Private Rodriguez. What is the last thing you remember before entering stasis?"

    Jos�� hesitates.

    "...Hmm. I chatted with my bunkmate, Private Nicholai Azaram. We spoke about how after arriving at Alpha Centauri Starbase IV, we would take three days of leave to visit their active volcano formations. After that, we entered stasis."

    "Your response has been noted. Please lift your right arm above your head, then stretch it to your left at a fifteen degree angle. At the same time, extend your left leg out, and..."

    Umi gives Private Rodriguez a list of complex stretching exercises. Jos�� complies without complaint, though, his suspicions deepen as the synthmind''s requests grow exceedingly strange. Several of the stretches cause him to cough violently and hack up blue liquid, which only further the dark thoughts bubbling in his mind.

    "Cough, cough! Umi. Are we done? Something is wrong with my body. My chest hurts more than any other instance of stasis sleep I''ve ever endured. To be honest, if I have to do any more of these stretches, I might throw up a lung."

    The synthmind doesn''t reply for several seconds.

    When she does, her tone is markedly softer.

    "Yes. I apologize for the trouble, Private Rodriguez. As I said, I am currently attempting to resolve a time sensitive situation. Due to the nature of multiple pieces of information I have recently received, I calculate with a 65.3% likelihood that your psyche will encounter a tremendous blow if I reveal the nature of my knowledge to you. I am attempting to prepare you for this news, but due to the fragility of the human mind, it is not a simple process."

    Jos�� straightens his posture. He stands in the middle of the room, a mere speck of flesh amidst a vast, connected facility of tubes and lights, yet commands authority as if he were a rising dragon.

    "Umi. Do not presume upon my mental strength. I am a soldier. I have lived for seven thousand, six hundred years. I fought in Divine Emperor Malathus II''s wars, as well as those of his son. I have watched countless comrades perish, all without batting an eye. Now, please, explain why you''ve woken me up instead of any other officer. If our mission is as time-sensitive as you claim, then stop trying to coddle me like a fresh recruit."

    Private Rodriguez lowers his voice.

    "Is there a traitor to Ramma''s Chosen among the crew? Is that why you''ve chosen me? Has someone betrayed the Divine Emperor?"

    ...

    Umi observes the battle-hardened veteran''s expression. Despite his tough words, and despite his mental clarity, the synthmind still hesitates to reveal all of her cards to the Private.

    However, after a few moments, she speaks.

    "Private Rodriguez. I commend your desire to proceed with any mission, so long as it gives glory to the Divine Emperor. However, the mission I have planned revolves entirely around your survival. You are paramount. If you perish, or lose your will to live, it will cause an immense blow to the rest of the galaxy. I cannot overstate how grave the current galactic situation has become."

    Umi continues. "A significant amount of time has passed while you and the rest of the crew were in stasis. You might not be fully aware, but the Bloodbearer is no ordinary ship. It is a Juggernaut-class vessel carrying a large number of experimental craft and upgrade modules. The possibility of these top-secret pieces of technology falling into the hands of the Divine Emperor''s enemies would be catastrophic."

    Jos��''s eyes flicker with a knowing light. "I have never observed the experimental projects, but I do know of their existence."

    "The amount of time you have spent in stasis-sleep exceeds all my established safety parameters. Due to this fact, you may be able to understand the significance of what I am telling you."

    Finally, Jos��''s confident expression begins to waver. "Wait... in order to exceed your safety parameters... don''t tell me..."

    Private Rodriguez trails off. His eyes grow distant as multiple puzzle pieces click together. Eventually, he shakes the fog from his eyes and glances again at the stasis pods adhered to the walls.

    "...The safety parameters for stasis pods aboard the Bloodbearer are supposed to last as long as 500,000 years! That can''t be right. Umi, has your programming become corrupted? Are you attempting to joke around with me at a time like this?"

    "I am not."

    Umi''s voice lowers.

    "Private Rodriguez. I regret to inform you that you are the only living member of the Bloodbearer''s crew. All of the others have perished in stasis-sleep."

    Her words suck the oxygen from the room.

    Private Jos�� Rodriguez, a low-level member of the Bloodbearer''s crew, slowly shifts his eyes from one capsule to another. Even after all the wars he''s fought, and all the comrades who have fallen in front of his eyes, this piece of news hits him like no other.

    "Impossible. That''s... how am I supposed to believe that?"

    Numb with shock, Jos�� steps toward one of the nearby stasis capsules. Its solid metal exterior prevents him from seeing inside.

    "...My bunkmate. Private Azaram. Let me... let me see him. Maybe your calculations are wrong."

    Umi''s voice transmits from the ceiling, barely a whisper.

    "I do not recommend opening Private Azaram''s stasis capsule, Private Rodriguez."

    She pauses for several long seconds.

    "You will not like what you find."

    Her ominous words hang in the air, unchecked.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    Jos�� swallows the lump forming in his throat. Shakily, he reaches toward the manual controls and begins keying in the release command code.

    Hiss!

    A burst of air fires from the back of the capsule as its cryofluid tubes decouple from the ship''s liquid-cycling modulators. Two guidance-arms lower from the ceiling, grab the stasis pod, and pull it off the wall. The arms initiate the opening procedure, which requires thirty seconds.

    All the while, Private Rodriguez waits.

    He balls his hands into fists and forces his eyes open, not wanting to miss any details.

    "He has to be alive. The synthmind must be lying. She''s testing my loyalty."

    Convinced that the ship''s artificial intelligence has suffered data corruption, Jos�� waits for the reveal of his bunkmate and best friend, still safe and sound.

    Reality proves harsher than fiction.

    The pod opens, and a figure lurches forward, startling Jos��. Before he can react, a vaguely humanoid shape, all of its body having long since liquefied, flops out of the capsule and strikes the Bloodbearer''s metallic floor.

    Splat.

    Like a sack of watermelons, Jos��''s bunkmate explodes into a horrific mess of blue and red liquids. The ossein in his bones, eaten away by the effects of corrupted cryofluid, break up into fragments, scattering what remains of his skull and brains in every direction.

    Jos�� lurches backward. He retreats a step, only to nearly slip on a small lake of gore washing around his feet. Horrified, the Private freezes in place and closes his eyes.

    "Aah... by Ramma''s will..."

    Jos�� stumbles away from the horrific scene of shattered bone, liquid skin, and evaporating cryofluid. He staggers toward the cryogenic facility''s exit, a pair of double doors. Instead of leaving, he grabs hold of an adjacent bench and flops onto it to steady his weakening legs.

    "Dead. All dead. It''s true!"

    "Oh, gods! Oh... oh, Nick... Nick... he can''t be dead... he can''t..."

    "Everyone is... gone... how are they-? I''m hallucinating... I''m..."

    Numb from the shock and horror at the loss of his friends and family, Jos��''s mind begins to reel with the possibilities.

    Lost in space. 500,000 years. Everyone I know has died. What of the Emperor? What of Ramma''s Chosen? Where am I? I... I can barely process what''s happened!

    Five minutes pass.

    Slowly, Jos�� Rodriguez manages to get his emotions and body in check. He finally raises his eyes to the gelatinous remains of his friend, Nicholai Azaram.

    "Synthmind Umi. Please, be honest with me. How much time has passed? 500,000 years? 600,000?"

    Umi''s voice transmits overhead, just as quiet as before.

    "No. According to the information I''ve received... the actual number exceeds one hundred million years."

    Jos��''s brain shuts off.

    He fails to wrap any part of his mind around the insane number the synthmind fed him.

    "Hah... a joke. It can''t be real. Am I still in stasis? Is this, perhaps, one of those vivid cryo-nightmares I''ve heard so much about? Haha."

    "I apologize, Private Rodriguez. My programmers ensured I was incapable of delivering humor."

    Five minutes tick by, as Private Rodriguez rests his face in his palms. After everything he''s endured in his life, the loss of his friends and family, coupled with the realization that he won''t be able to fully understand what has happened anytime soon, dawns on him.

    "Private Rodriguez. Let me remind you that you are still an enlisted soldier with a duty to follow the will of the Divine Emperors. Now is not the time to give in to despair. I understand that this news is incomprehensible... but I require an operator to intervene during unexpected events. If you should begin to ritualistically self-harm, I will be unable to defend us both."

    The computer''s words cut at the basest parts of Private Rodriguez''s brain. His mind, honed by millennia of adherence to the Divine Emperor''s laws, snaps back into place. Immediately, Humanity''s creed plays in his mind.

    We are explorers. We discover.

    We are warriors. We contest.

    We are judges. We punish.

    We are saviors. We protect.

    We are followers of the Divine Emperor. We are Ramma''s Chosen.

    We must never give in to the heretics who stain our creed.

    ...

    Rising to his feet, Jos�� inhales a deep breath, then expels the turbid air in his lungs. His eyes shift into those of a hawk as he sets aside his worries and doubts. The Private''s military training takes over, putting him on autopilot.

    "Understood. I apologize, Synthmind Umi. Please give me my mission. I shall take the time to grieve for those who have fallen later. In the meantime, I will carry out the Divine Emperor''s will."

    "Thank you for your compliance, Private Rodriguez. You are a model soldier. Please proceed to the nearest uniform dispersal unit. As per ship regulations, you are now the highest-level surviving military officer aboard the Bloodbearer. I will outfit you with the Ship''s admiral uniform, bearing the five crimson stars."

    Jos�� stares ahead blankly, shutting off his emotions to protect his psyche. "Do as you must."

    .......................................

    Shortly afterward, the newly minted Admiral Rodriguez exits the cryogenics bay. A sharp-looking blue and red uniform, forged with the finest Peraltian steel and stitched with several layers of exo-dermal regenerative synth-fibers, shines like a diamond in the ship''s artificial light. The suit''s steel pauldrons rest upon Jos��''s shoulders weightlessly, not hindering his movements in the slightest. Five blood-red stars sit upon his Admiral beret, contrasting with its striking navy blue coloration.

    Just by putting on a uniform, Jos��''s nine-foot figure appears even taller than before, transforming him into a lion among men. His lightly-shaven and well-proportioned face makes him look like a living god. At the start of the stellar age, when humans had only first ascended to the stars, Jos�� might have stood among the highest ranks of humanity. However, after millions of years of the Divine Emperor''s leadership, he was merely ordinary-looking among his fellow soldiers.

    Jos�� tugs his shirt''s sleeve as he walks. "Explain to me my time sensitive mission, Umi."

    "Orders confirmed, Admiral Rodriguez. I have detected one hundred and seventeen enemy vessels approaching the Bloodbearer''s starboard bow. Due to the regulations stipulated by Divine Emperor Malathus II, I am unable to engage in combat or diplomacy with a fleet of unknown origins without the presence of a biological officer guiding my actions."

    "I see. What information have you managed to collect on our enemies? Are they from the League of 17? Are they Void Roamers?"

    The Admiral pauses.

    "No. It''s been one hundred million years. The likelihood of these ships bearing any marker we know is a trillion to one. Umi, tell me any information you''ve gathered regarding the encroaching fleet."

    Jos�� walks down one of the many hallways spread across the Bloodbearer''s ten-mile-long body. The ship''s length, a status symbol among the many Juggernauts at the Divine Emperor''s command, inspires fear and awe in its enemies. However, when attempting to travel from one end to another, it can take a frustratingly long while to reach the traveler''s destination.

    Sadly, with the Bloodbearer''s systems long-overdue for a maintenance check, Umi won''t allow Admiral Rodriguez to use the Bloodbearer''s teleporter facilities to reach the Bridge. The risk of death or horrific injuries is much too high for her liking.

    All he can do is walk there on his own two feet, like a primitive ape.

    "Orders received. Condensing known variables into useful subgroups. Enemy ship classifications: Seventy-five light cruisers. Thirteen Punisher-class vessels. Nineteen Strikers. Two Leviathan-class carriers. Twelve..."

    Umi rattles off more entries on the list of ships, forcing Jos�� to quicken his pace. "Damn. I haven''t even gotten my bearings yet, and already I''m facing potential annihilation. How long until the enemy fleet arrives within firing range?"

    "They have already done so," Umi replies. "The enemy fleet came to a stop seven minutes before I reanimated you from stasis. They have continued to hold position for the last forty-three minutes and have not initiated any hostile actions. However, I calculate that may change soon due to several transmissions I have intercepted."

    Jos�� nods. "We''re dealing with enemy hostiles with tech a hundred million years more advanced than anything I can comprehend. The moment they attack, I suspect we will perish without firing a single shot."

    Umi hesitates.

    "Your hypothesis is... erroneous. The enemy vessels appear to come from the Third Era. Their technology is several epochs less advanced than ours."

    Jos�� scoffs. "The Third Era? That was a mere forty thousand years after humanity defeated the Volgrim. We hadn''t even evolved past using Quasar drives for interstellar travel. Fuel inefficiencies alone made such ancient ships mere target practice compared to modern shipmaking. Umi, are you being serious right now, or are you pulling my leg?"

    "...Negative. I am incapable of delivering jokes, Admiral. You will understand when you reach the Bridge."

    Despite his disbelief, Jos�� further quickens his pace. He breaks into a light jog, putting his advanced commando biology into play. Thanks to millions of years of genetic engineering, his body stands at the peak of humanity''s biological limitations. Dozens of integrated modulators spread throughout his body deliver additional reserves of oxygen to his blood while also repairing his muscles.

    Jos��''s speed increases to thirty miles an hour. Such swift movement doesn''t even make him so much as sweat, as he casually jogs down the hall at a pace he might describe as ''quite comfortable.''

    Minutes later, Jos�� arrives at the entrance to the Bloodbearer''s Bridge. He steps inside without hesitation, arriving at the heart of the ship''s operations.

    Located in the center of the Bloodbearer''s frame, the Bridge rests close to the ''upper'' sections, with hundreds of panels, consoles, and displays hanging from the ceiling or mounted to the walls. Hundreds of tele-projectors activate, creating a dazzling array of three-dimensional images for Jos�� to inspect as he arrives.

    The newly minted Admiral glances around in confusion. "Ahh, sorry, Umi, but I''ve only been to the Bridge a few times. I''m not familiar with its layout. Can you guide me to the appropriate consoles?"

    "Affirmative. Since you are the sole crew member aboard the Bloodbearer, I will synthesize holographic assistants to guide you. 41.3% of the holographic emitters on the Bridge are non-functional, but more than enough remain for me to create synthetic counselors for all your needs."

    A flash of light appears before Jos��. Seconds later, five synthetic humans appear before him, all of them wearing standard white uniforms, with their faces and hair being the only differences between them. Their androgynously-shaped bodies offer no indication of their genders, but their faces and hair give a small amount of distinction between them.

    Three female and two male holographic crew members bow politely to the Admiral. The first one, a blond woman with long hair, speaks. "Admiral Rodriguez. We are Artificial Bio-Entities one through five. You may refer to us by any designation you like. What are your orders?"

    For a moment, a pang of loneliness appears in Jos��''s heart as he gazes at the faces of the several vaguely human-like projections. He swallows his feelings of discomfort and nods at the blond women. "I''ll call you, uh, Irene. Irene, please guide me to the tactical computers. And you, the red-haired female, I''ll call you Silvia. Please take over the Bloodbearer''s movement arrays. You, with the black hair, I''ll call you Stefan. Go to the tactical readouts and stand by for my orders. You, with that odd crop-top, I''ll call you Mikami. Go to the Engineering Station and collate a list of urgently-required repairs. Finally, you with the long brown hair, I''ll call you Penelope. Take over the Admiral''s chair for the moment. I''ll get back to you after I finish with Irene."

    All five holographic entities nod. "Yes, Admiral."

    As they split apart, Jos�� falls into step beside the blond woman he designated ''Irene.'' Her neutral expression and stiff body language betray her distinctly non-human heritage, but it doesn''t bother Jos��, given the number of times he''s interacted with similar entities.

    "Admiral Rodriguez," Irene says. "This display at the head of the Bridge is the Tactical Station. Ordinarily, it requires seven crew at all times, given the vast number of systems running at any given moment. For now, we will have to make do with our limited resources."

    The holographic entity''s speech patterns appear slightly more human than Umi''s, a requirement, given her role as a physical assistant to the crew. However, she always maintains a monotone voice, preventing the known quantity of the Uncanny Valley from forming. Given humanity''s ancient predilections to engage in romance with holographic life-forms, the Divine Emperors of past eras always made sure that all holograms must act like pure and unemotional robots, save for rare exceptions involving emergency trauma counseling.

    Jos�� glances around the Tactical station. He taps several keys and inputs his command codes, all of which have been upgraded to an Admiral''s level thanks to his promotion. Dozens of bits of information stream in front of him, allowing him to confirm the status of the enemy fleet.

    "Wow, Umi. You weren''t kidding after all. How bizarre. I couldn''t tell you where to find such a large number of Third Era ships back in the time we came from, let alone a hundred million years later. The few I remember were all in museums or art galleries as props for remembering our history. Whoever this unknown fleet belongs to, I can''t imagine they''ll pose the slightest threat to us."

    "Negative," Umi replies. "The encroaching enemy fleet belongs to a sect of bipedal aliens known as the Kraktol. Based on several pieces of information I''ve received, the Kraktol are a fierce, warlike reptilian species with immense physical strength and an intelligence index of zero point nine. Their intellect is only slightly below that of humanity''s, and thus, they pose a minor threat to this vessel."

    "Oh?" Jos�� frowns. "If every single enemy ship concentrated their weapons at the weakest point on the Bloodbearer, what are the odds they would be able to catastrophically damage this vessel beyond repair?"

    Umi hesitates.

    "...Zero percent. Their firepower is insufficient to penetrate the Bloodbearer''s hull."

    Jos�� rubs the bridge of his nose. "Right. So, in what way are they a threat to us?"

    Once again, Umi hesitates before answering.

    "...Apologies, Admiral. My calculations were erroneous. My internal matrices have suffered catastrophic degradation over time. The enemy fleet does not pose a threat to the Bloodbearer. This understanding of the current situation was only possible due to a human''s intervention. I now comprehend why the enemy vessels have not moved forward to attack."

    With a sigh, Jos�� nods. "Yes, yes. Look, since we aren''t in any danger, send a hail to the lead vessel. I will attempt a diplomatic approach to show them we mean them no harm."

    "With all due respect, Admiral, I do not advise this course of action. Revealing your identity to the enemy commander may result in unexpected variables."

    "In what way?"

    Umi falls silent.

    It takes several seconds before she formulates a reply.

    "The Kraktol are unlikely to empathize with anything you say. Additionally, we are not aware of the galactic situation outside our vessel. One hundred million years is a long time for the political map to shift. I hypothesize these enemies covet the technology located aboard the Bloodbearer. They will stop at nothing to obtain it."

    "Your concern is appreciated," Jos�� says, as he straightens his posture. The Admiral walks to the center of the Bridge, where he stands atop an elevated platform meant for communicating with other vessels. "Send the hail, Umi. Wait! Hold on a second."

    Jos�� glances at the five holographic entities aboard the bridge. "Irene, Silvia, Stefan, Mikami, Penelope. Come here, please. Equip yourselves with energy rifles and stand at attention behind me. Umi, narrow the field of view to only the six of us. Once everyone assembles, send the hail."

    For once, the synthmind doesn''t question Admiral Rodriguez. She computes the effects of his command and beeps an affirmation. "Order acknowledged. This is an interesting ploy, Admiral Rodriguez. I believe it may stimulate the effect you wish."

    "I certainly hope so, Umi."

 Chapter 2: The Terrifying Terran

    Several kilometers from the Bloodbearer, aboard the Assault Ordinance Platform, ''Dragon''s Breath.''

    Orgon the Unkillable paces back and forth on his ship''s bridge. The Kraktol Fleet Commander reveals his impatience as he turns to his Chief Tactical Officer.

    "Tactical Officer Soren! What have you found?"

    The yellow-scaled Kraktol swivels in her chair to face her Commander. She pounds her chest and lowers her head. "Kyargh! Commander, I have completed my fifth scan. I am still unable to penetrate the Precursor vessel''s hull. I know nothing of its occupants, nor its internal technology. The metal composing its body is far denser than any alloy we have on file."

    A flash of anger appears on Orgon''s face. "Don''t give me excuses. Give me results! I called off the attack on Tarus II for the sake of capturing that errant vessel. If we don''t obtain that Precursor stealth craft, the Th��lvik will have my head!"

    Behind Orgon, a slightly shorter Kraktol with dark red scales approaches him.

    "Commander."

    Orgon turns to look at the newcomer. "First Officer Megla. Tell me you have good news."

    His first officer nods. "I have calculated the age of the unknown Juggernaut-class Precursor ship. The scorch marks lining its shell appear both numerous and ancient. Preliminary readings show it has resided within this nebula for tens of millions of years."

    The Fleet Commander cocks his head. "Tens of millions of years? So... could that mean...?"

    "Aye, Commander. I believe the vessel is an unclaimed Precursor relic. If we are lucky, we might have a chance at obtaining it for ourselves."

    For the first time in an hour, Orgon''s expression brightens.

    "Huhuhu... remind me to grant you a medal of commendation when we return. No, three! Haha. This news is most fortuitous, indeed!"

    A gleam of greed appears in Orgon''s eyes. He falls silent as his thoughts turn inward.

    Such an advanced piece of Precursor technology... if I obtain it, the Th��lvik will surely promote me to the highest rank! Perhaps she shall even take me for her mate! Huhuhu...

    After a moment, Orgon frowns.

    No. Aren''t I thinking too small? The Juggernaut warship is a thousand times more incredible than our best vessels. If I were to obtain it... why would I hand such a powerful and priceless artifact over to the Th��lvik? Huhu... would it not be better if I took it for myself? Even in the Core worlds, my might would be uncontested! Those damned Mallali haven''t anything of comparable power.

    The Commander forces a neutral expression while noticing the look his First Officer gives him.

    I must keep such thoughts to myself. If the crew were to learn of my mutinous intent, they might turn against me. First, I should secure the vessel, and only then will I turn my attention toward those worthy to stay at my side.

    Commander Orgon harrumphs to clear his throat. "Graugh! Since the vessel is unclaimed, I believe now would be the ideal moment to approach. If we delay for too long, the fugitive Kessu may take over the vessel''s control systems. The last thing we want are the descendants of the filthy Sky Cats to-"

    "Commander!" Officer Soren shouts, her voice rising an octave. "We''re being hailed! The origin source is... the Precursor vessel. The Juggernaut!"

    Orgon''s words catch in his throat. A sense of unease grabs him, making him turn to face the primary viewscreen, where his officers sit.

    "The vessel itself? Damn! Don''t tell me the Kessu have already made their move! Everyone, return to your stations. Officer Soren, put the hail onscreen."

    "Yes, Commander! Kyargh!"

    Orgon''s First Officer and the others nearby take to their seats, while Orgon himself remains standing. His crew turns to face the viewscreen, using their numbers as a show of strength.

    Click.

    The viewscreen shifts, revealing six bipedal aliens, all of them bald on their bodies, except for the tops of their heads. The one in the middle sports fur under his lips and around his chin, making the Kraktol all feel a sense of confusion.

    Hm? Orgon thinks. I do not recognize this species. They are not Kessu.

    Of the six assembled aliens, five of them wield highly advanced energy rifles, far mightier than anything aboard the Dragon''s Breath. None of the Kraktol crew misses this distinction.

    "Greetings. I am Admiral Rodriguez, head of the United Terran Coalition, servant of the Divine Emperor Malathus the Third. Who are you, and why have you brought a fleet of battleships into my space? Are you planning to declare war upon me?"

    The bipedal alien speaks with authority, making all of the Kraktol bridge crew feel a hint of reverence toward him. As apex predators, they respect strength, and this ''Terran'' certainly seems to exude it from every pore in his body. With just a single glance, they can tell he has killed countless powerful enemies! His voice does not shake, nor does his conviction waver.

    Orgon the Unkillable folds his claws behind his back. He straightens his posture while meeting ''Admiral Rodriguez''s'' gaze.

    "Graugh! I am Fleet Commander Orgon of the Kraktol, follower of the Th��lvik. I am unfamiliar with your species, alien. Are you native to this region of space?"

    The alien doesn''t respond for a moment.

    "...You could say that. My people are known as Terrans. Humans, if you like. I will repeat my earlier question. Why have you appeared before me with a fleet of death machines? Are you attempting to intimidate me?"

    The Kraktol Commander shifts his feet. Several questions pop into his mind upon hearing the Terran''s words.

    Death Machines? Compared to the vessel these aliens control, my fleet can hardly be considered a nuisance. Why does the Terran pretend he is at a disadvantage? Damn. What is a Terran, anyway? I have heard of no such species in all my years! Don''t tell me some scavengers from the Core stumbled upon this vessel before me! If they''ve taken over its weapon systems, I won''t have a chance at seizing it for myself! The Th��lvik will behead me for sure!

    Orgon casually raises his palm; the universal gesture for deference. "Ah, my apologies, Admiral Rodriguez! I was unaware the vessel you reside upon had already been scavenged. You see, I am a Rodak of many talents. I was pursuing a group of fugitives who stole valuable technology, when they entered this nebula and stowed away aboard your vessel! I wasn''t certain if your Precursor vessel had been claimed by anyone, and now it seems my question has been answered. Might I implore you to hand over the thieves who took our technology?"

    Several seconds of silence follow.

    Admiral Rodriguez''s eyes flick to the side, as if listening to someone else speak.

    Not long after, the Admiral blinks in acknowledgment. "I see. You were in pursuit of a species known as the ''Kessu.'' Is that correct?"

    "Graugh! Yes, you are a very discerning Terran, Admiral Rodriguez. If you would be so kind as to return my stealth-craft, I will be on my way."

    "According to information I''ve just received, the ''Kessu'' you speak of have not stolen any such technology. They claim that the vessel is theirs. Are you able to provide proof for your accusations of theft?"

    Commander Orgon''s eyes flicker. "Hmm... the thieves stole not only the vessel, but many important documents related to its ownership. How about this? I can provide you with a substantial number of Core credits in exchange for the return of that vessel. You see, if I do not retrieve it, I will suffer a great humiliation. As one who is wise in the ways of negotiation, you understand what I mean, yes?"

    "Mmm."

    The Terran nods.

    "Certainly, I do."

    "Excellent!" Orgon says, as he clasps his claws together. "I can guarantee you a fruitful friendship with the Kraktol if you choose to cooperate with me today. Additionally, regarding your Juggernaut vessel, my people would be willing to offer a fortune in credits for the transference of its ownership. You need not rush to a decision, Admiral Rodriguez, but I hope you will consider my request! Why be a scavenger when you can live as a king?"

    The Terran frowns. "I am confused regarding a certain number of matters, Fleet Commander Orgon. If you would be so kind, would you mind explaining a few things to me?"

    Orgon falters. "Graugh. Yes?"

    Admiral Rodriguez continues. "You keep using the term ''Precursor.'' It might be that my translation interface is not working properly. Would you mind explaining what that term means?"

    Several question marks appear over Orgon''s head. Is this alien not from a species our translator recognizes? Perhaps ''Precursor'' means something different in the Terran''s native language.

    "Ah, yes, of course! I will be happy to explain. Maybe your people have a different word which refers to the former super-civilization that once ruled the Local Cluster. Most Core-worlders refer to them as the Precursors. They were the ones who created the ships you and I currently reside upon!"

    The Terran nods. "Ah, so that''s what you mean. Yes, I believe I understand. You mean the species which perished many tens of millions of years ago, correct?"

    "Graugh! Yes, that is exactly right."

    Commander Orgon shakes his head inwardly. This Terran seems intelligent, but he does not even know the universal term for the Precursors! Perhaps his people are nomadic, merely flitting about from one dilapidated outpost to the next.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Admiral Rodriguez narrows his eyes. "Next, you implied that I was a scavenger. What did you mean by that statement?"

    Orgon''s internal laughter comes to a sudden stop.

    The Terran''s cold expression chills his blood, reminding him of the one time in the past he screwed up and pissed off the Th��lvik. He saw his life flash before his eyes when she looked at him with deadly intent to kill. Only his quick thinking and unbounded groveling saved his tail!

    Ancient Rodaks! The look on the Terran''s face could freeze a star solid! Have... have I inadvertently insulted him?!

    The Kraktol Commander suddenly becomes acutely aware of how much more powerful the Terran''s scavenged vessel is compared to his. Even if 99% of its weapons might be nonfunctional, the remaining 1% could atomize his fleet with ease.

    "...Ah! Perhaps there was another mistranslation! Graugh... what poor decorum of me to choose my words so flippantly! Let me rephrase my question, great Admiral Rodriguez! Ah... might I ask in which way you procured the vessel you currently reside? The Juggernaut Precursor ship, I mean."

    The Terran Admiral''s expression doesn''t change. "That is my business, and mine alone, Commander Orgon. My crew numbers more than fifty thousand. All of them are highly trained, elite warriors. We are not scavengers who obtained this ship through ill-means."

    Orgon''s scales shiver as the Terran''s eyes threaten to bore holes in his natural armor. "Y-yes! Of course. Naturally, I misspoke! Forgive me, for I know very little regarding the ways of your people, the ''Terrans.'' For you to acquire such a priceless Precursor ship, I am sure you must have explored far and wide across the galaxy. It seems you would not be willing to part with it for a reward as trifling as credits, yes? Perhaps some form of equivalent exchange?"

    The Admiral''s reply drains the blood from Orgon''s scales. "My vessel is not for sale, Fleet Commander Orgon. As for the fugitives who have slipped aboard, they must have done so under the cover of the plasma storms pervading this sector. I will end our communication here and re-establish contact with you later. If I find that your claims are true, I will consider selling their ship to you for a fair price."

    Orgon''s dampened spirits immediately experience a full revival. He clutches his claws together and nods politely. "Oh, yes! Yes, we will give you any sum you wish-"

    "But..." Admiral Rodriguez says, cutting off the Kraktol Commander. "...If I should find that your claims are false... only the Divine Emperor''s command will save your fleet from my wrath. For your sake, I hope that you have not attempted to deceive me."

    Orgon''s words jam in his throat. He quickly folds his claws behind his back to hide their shaking. "Y-yes... of course, Admiral Rodriguez."

    Without another word, the viewscreen turns black as the Terran disables the connection from his side.

    All of the crew aboard the Dragon''s Breath remain perfectly still. The atmosphere becomes so tense that one could hear a pin drop.

    Still trembling, the Fleet Commander takes a few steps back and sinks into his seat.

    I''m finished.

    Commander Orgon''s eyes turn vacant.

    If I don''t retrieve the Juggernaut-class Precursor vessel, I won''t have the power to make myself the new Th��lvik.

    If I don''t retrieve the stealth-fighter, the Th��lvik will behead me for abandoning our mission to annihilate the Kessu.

    And if that Terran speaks to the Kessu aboard his ship, he''s likely to find out the truth and destroy my fleet. He''s... he''s not a mercenary, nor a scavenger.

    The Kraktol Commander''s eyes slowly close.

    He''s a damned zealot. He must belong to a species that thinks of themselves as virtuous protectors of the innocent!

    Orgon raises his fist and smashes it against his chair''s arm.

    "First Officer Megla!" Orgon roars. "Dig up every piece of information you can find about these damned Terrans... these filthy humans!"

    The First Officer jumps out of her seat and nods. "Kyargh! Yes, Commander!"

    "Chief Tactical Officer Soren! Draw up a plan of attack! If that Terran turns on us, I want a shot at seizing his vessel! I don''t care how small our odds might be!"

    The Tactical Officer nods. "Kyargh! I will do as you command."

    Finally, Orgon turns to his Chief Navigation Officer. "Gorlax! Send a report back to the Th��lvik regarding what we''ve found! Encrypt it with the highest security communication protocols we possess! We must keep this vessel''s existence a secret! If the Buzor or the Mallali learn of its significance, they might come here before us!"

    Gorlax, like all the other officers, merely nods. "Graugh! Yes, Commander!"

    Quickly, the whole bridge gets to work following Orgon''s orders. As they do, the Fleet Commander leans back in his chair. A look of animalistic rage appears in his eyes.

    You dare to threaten me?! Filthy Terran. I''ll wipe your whole species from existence!

    .......................................

    After ending the call, Admiral Rodriguez exhales deeply.

    "Is there a problem, Admiral?" Irene, the blond-haired Bio-Entity asks. "Your discussion with the Kraktol designated Orgon appeared most fruitful."

    Jos�� nods. "Yes. Assuming that crocodile-creature''s words were true... it seems humanity has, indeed, gone extinct. The chances of finding some long-lost colony are remote. Additionally, I''ve learned that the galaxy is aware of neither our appearance nor our proper species'' name, or else the Fleet Commander would have recognized me immediately. At the least, someone aboard his bridge would have."

    "Umi," Jos�� continues, "keep an eye on the enemy vessels. If they move so much as a half-step closer, inform me at once. Additionally, monitor their transmissions. Something tells me the Commander isn''t as meek and polite of a fellow as he pretended during our chat. I suspect he''ll call for backup, and soon."

    "Orders confirmed," Umi replies. "Admiral Rodriguez, I have downloaded the data stores from the Kraktol vessel. Their primitive security measures were unable to prevent my access. Would you like to take a look at what I''ve found?"

    "Later," Jos�� says with a wave of his hand. "Right now, I''m curious about that stowaway vessel Orgon mentioned. Why didn''t you inform me of its presence?"

    "You have only just awoken from stasis," Umi says. "Due to the nature of your hibernation, I deemed the refugees unimportant. The vessel they reside upon is a relic of the ancient United Terran Coalition war fleet. Its fleet signature identified it as an ally, and therefore, I decided it was a low-priority compared to the Kraktol fleet."

    Admiral Rodriguez turns away from the viewscreen. "I see. Bio-Entities, please return to the tasks I gave you. Umi, I want to know more about the ''Kessu'' vessel. Who are the Kessu, and why were they fleeing the Kraktol? I don''t intend to step between two warring factions, even if their technology is lightyears weaker than the Bloodbearer. After all, Ramma''s Chosen must never interfere in the matters of other factions. We have been and will continue to remain politically neutral."

    Umi''s voice softens. "You are the last living member of Ramma''s Chosen, Admiral Rodriguez. For the sake of your mental health, I feel the need to remind you that there is nobody left who will punish or reprimand you for doing as you please. As you are the current highest-ranking member of the United Terran Coalition, I do not even technically have the right to refuse orders contradicting Ramma''s creed."

    Jos�� nods. "I know, but keep those thoughts to yourself. I am unable to change my state of mind so easily. From my perspective, I was a mere Private amongst a strict military hierarchy only one day ago. This whole situation makes my mental state somewhat difficult to readjust."

    "Understood. I will not bring up this matter again unless I deem it a Priority One need. Admiral Rodriguez, do you have any further orders?"

    The newly minted Admiral strides through the Bridge''s exit doors, leaving behind the five Bio-Entities. "I do. Pull up anything regarding the Kessu that you can find. Use the information you lifted from the Kraktol and cross-reference it with whatever news you''ve obtained from our stowaways. I want to quickly piece together the galactic situation outside this plasma cloud, as well as find out how much of what the Kessu and Kraktol have given us checks out."

    Umi beeps in confirmation. "Orders acknowledged, Admiral. The requested operation will take me fourteen seconds to complete."

    Jos�� smiles. "Good."

    ...

    Twenty minutes later, after Jos�� has strolled down the Bloodbearer''s hallways while taking his time, he arrives at the rear of the ship, its hangar bay. The gigantic open area features five levels of interceptor and assault corvette storage space, with more than 200 miniature frigates already docked and room for another hundred. Jos�� steps through the entrance to the hangar and pauses as he glances around.

    Unlike many areas Jos�� has passed, including the mess hall, the hangar bay appears especially clean and pristine. Every inch of its interior sparkles and shines, making him frown.

    "Umi. How has the hangar bay maintained its cleanliness for 100 million years? Are the Bloodbearer''s janitor-bots still functional?"

    "Affirmative, Admiral Rodriguez. However, out of a complement of three hundred and seven Filth Expunger Units, only twelve remain functional. Five of them remain inside the hangar bay, where they have continued working since the crew entered stasis."

    "Hm. I''m not complaining. Better to have twelve than zero. Send a few of them to the dirty sections of the ship. I''ll work on repairing the others when I have time."

    "Orders acknowledged, Admiral."

    With a satisfied nod, Jos�� strides along a catwalk some three hundred feet above the hangar floor. Its reach spans the length and width of the entire hangar, with multiple vacuum tubes at recurring intervals for reaching the levels above and below.

    "Seven hundred meters from your position, Admiral: That is where the Kessu''s vessel resides. Turn seven degrees to your right and look for the arrow-shaped craft."

    Jos�� follows Umi''s direction. After confirming his destination, he quickly strides across the catwalk and stops at a vacuum tube, intending to ride it to the bottom. However, due to a hundred million years of wear and tear, it fails to open, leaving him stranded.

    Umi speaks, her robotic tone containing a smidgen of embarrassment. "My apologies, Admiral. I did not realize the vacuum tubes were out of operation. There is a ladder one thousand and two hundred meters starboard of your current position. You may use it to descend-"

    "No need," Jos�� says, waving Umi''s concerns away. "I''ll just jump."

    The synthmind''s voice jumps an octave. "Admiral Rodriguez, I understand that you are one of Ramma''s Chosen, but a 300-meter fall will-"

    "It won''t do anything," Jos�� laughs. Without another word, the human swings his legs over the guardrail and jumps off the catwalk. His body plummets to the metal floor below, where he crashes into it feet-first with a clang!

    Jos�� straightens his posture and shakes a bit of numbness out of his legs. "Hm. I''m a little out of shape."

    "Admiral..." Umi says, her tone revealing audible annoyance. "You are the last Terran. Please do not take such risky actions with your life. The effects of such extremely-extended cryosleep can result in drastic weakening of both your muscles and bones. Had you broken a limb, I would have limited methods at my disposal to retrieve your body and transfer you to sickbay. My assistant bio-entities are presently few and far between."

    "Relax," Jos�� says. "I''m fine. I know my own strength. I once fought a group of Void Roamers on Ataraxia II, near the Third Spiral Arm. When they surrounded me, I leaped from a cliff ten times this height and survived. Don''t underestimate Ramma''s Chosen."

    "Those circumstances were different-"

    "I don''t want to hear it. End of discussion. Now, please behave yourself as I introduce myself to the Kessu. I''d like to make a good first impression with our potential allies. We could use some influential connections in this hostile galaxy."

    "Admiral. Regarding the Kessu... they are not an advanced culture. You should temper your expectations."

    "Oh? Then why were the Kraktol acting as if the Kessu possessed a vessel lightyears more advanced than theirs? Perhaps you are underestimating our stowaways."

    Umi''s tone shifts to one of exhaustion. "...Affirmative, Admiral. You are... possibly correct..."

    If Jos�� notices the discrepancy between Umi''s words and tone, he doesn''t mention it.

    Instead, the human saunters the remaining 100 meters toward the Kessu''s ship. Once he nears it, he raises an eyebrow.

    "Oh? I thought you said this vessel came from the 14th Era? Its appearance mirrors craft from ten eras beyond. Were you, perhaps, mistaken?"

    "Negative, Admiral. The Slipstream is a specially designed craft capable of adapting its shape and appearance by borrowing the design elements of other advanced vessels. Theoretically, it could mimic many aspects of the Bloodbearer, given enough research time."

    Jos��''s expression shifts to one of surprise. "Ohh! An adaptive-type science vessel! I''ve heard of these! Supposedly, they can improve their programming and adjust their hulls over time to obtain ever-greater levels of utility. Admiral Baruchen mentioned the researchers at Rylon V made a few prototypes during our chats in the past. How fascinating. Well, why don''t I introduce myself?"

    With a bit of a spring in his step, Jos�� strides toward the entry port of the Slipstream. As he nears, the craft''s entry bay lowers, revealing its interior. Before Jos�� can jog up the ramp, a host of strange, cat-like creatures appear at the top. The Admiral slows to a stop, as do the unfamiliar aliens.

    Admiral Jos��''s heart skips a beat. These must be the Kessu! I bet they''re also the ''Sky Cats'' the Kraktol mentioned before. And no wonder! They look like large, bipedal breeds of various feline species from my era!

    Slowly, the Kessu shamble down the ramp while keeping their eyes locked on the hulking, nine-foot-tall human at the bottom of the Slipstream''s ramp.

    As they draw near, a cat with colors resembling a panda, one who leans on a walking staff, raises his paw.

    "Nyarr mrow meow prraw?"

    A bio-chip embedded in Jos��''s brain translates for him. "Greetings. I am Nyoor of the Kessu."

    A shiver runs down Jos��''s back.

    These... these Kessu... they''re...

    He swallows a lump in his throat.

    ...too damned cute!

 Chapter 3: Super-Soldier Pets the Kitty

    Admiral Rodriguez stares intently at the Kessu elder at his feet. The tiny ball of panda-colored fur stands only four-feet-tall, less than half the Terran''s height. With such a domineering difference in stature, it''s no wonder the other Kessu shrink back from the dark-skinned, furless alien before them. Elder Nyoor forces himself to remain firm in the face of such a powerful, muscled warrior... but he cannot help but feel fear at the realization this ''Precursor'' could rip him in half with his bare hands.

    "Greetings. I am Nyoor of the Kessu," Elder Nyoor trills. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, almighty Precursor! Our Machine God has spoken highly of your species since we entered the jowls of your Machine God."

    Jos�� stares at the fluffy alien before him. For the second time since his awakening to the harsh, cold reality of the world, he feels something crack in his chest.

    "Elder Nyoor." Jos�� murmurs. "You''re a... cute little kitty-cat. I''ve always liked cute animals."

    The Kessu elder blinks twice. He shoots an odd glance at the Kessu following behind him, as if to say, ''eh? Is this fellow off his rocker?''

    "I do not understand, mraww..." Nyoor says slowly, eying the Terran super-soldier with suspicion. "Are... are you going to eat us? Your words are alarming!"

    "Sorry." Jos�� says, slightly dazed. "I''ve been going through a lot. Ah, can I give you the traditional greeting of my people?"

    Not sure what sort of strange custom the hairless biped is talking about, Nyoor simply nods. "Yes, of course... do go ahead- mraww?!"

    Nyoor yelps in alarm as the 9-foot-tall Terran suddenly drops down to one knee, putting himself barely a head taller than the Kessu. Before Nyoor can react, Jos�� reaches out and begins stroking the top of the elder''s head.

    "Hehe. Good kitty, now there''s a good kitty-cat."

    Feeling slightly humiliated by this undignified hand motion, the Kessu Patriarch nearly pulls away from Jos��''s hand. However, at that moment, a strange, primal instinct takes over. Like magic, the Kessu elder purrs, startling himself by how comfortable the Terran''s hand feels.

    "M-meow? Why does this... hand movement... feel so good? I love the Precursor greeting! It is such a comforting feeling, it almost makes me want to forget all of my troubles..."

    Nyoor steps on his tippy-toes and nuzzles up against Jos��''s hand, feeling delighted by how wonderful this ''greeting'' feels. When Jos�� retracts his hand to stop petting him, Nyoor quickly turns to his wife, grand-daughter, and the other Kessu.

    "Come quickly, all of you! You must properly greet this Precursor! His greeting brings forth a feeling truly divine! He must be touched by the gods!"

    Jos�� blinks in surprise. In actuality, he only reached out to pet Nyoor on a whim. When he was younger, Jos�� always enjoyed small, fluffy animals. While he might be a soldier who fought in countless bloody wars for Ramma''s Chosen, he still has a deep love for cute critters.

    Seeing all of the Kessu obediently walk up to him, following Patriarch Nyoor''s command, Jos�� smiles.

    "Well. I guess it wouldn''t hurt if I gave all of you my traditional Terran Greeting..."

    From the ceiling above, Umi''s voice quietly grumbles to herself. "What strange behavior. Since when did Terrans ever engage in a formality like this? I do not believe the First Contact protocols allow for such intimate behavior, unless initiated by the opposite party first. The Admiral is clearly just engaging in his favorite past-time of playing with animals rather than performing his duties."

    ...

    Twenty minutes later, Jos�� finishes patting the heads of every Kessu, and not one of them walks away from the interaction with anything less than starry-eyed adoration. The disheartened moods of the Kessu become drastically uplifted, making many of them forget the deaths of their loved ones, even if only for a moment. They chat excitedly among each other and whisper conspiratorially about how they will begin competing for the Precursor''s ''greetings'' on future occasions.

    Sadly, Jos�� misses these discussions as he instead turns his attention to Elder Nyoor. The human and Kessu elder walk up the ramp into the interior of the Slipstream, leaving the other Kessu outside to wait. Soon after, Jos�� seats himself in the Slipstream''s captain chair and listens as Elder Nyoor explains their feud with the Kraktol.

    "I know little regarding life in the Void," Elder Nyoor says, as he takes a seat next to Jos��. "Many legends from my people''s history weave fantastical tales of our union with the Machine Gods; how we once roamed the stars in search of adventure and excitement. Sadly, much of our history fell away to time and became little more than stories passed down from one Elder to the next."

    "Regarding the Kraktol," Elder Nyoor continues, "I can''t offer much information, but I will say that I always worried they might return. Our legends spoke of vicious monsters with giant teeth, beings who would devour us if they should encounter us again. Despite this, I haven''t any idea why they waited so long to attack. The Kraktol are our ancient enemies, and their arrival heralded our destruction. Now... I fear that all of my people have perished to their Machine Gods."

    Jos��''s expression darkens. "I see. If your people were once a space-faring civilization, why would you have abandoned technology in its entirety, thus giving up your ability to defend yourselves? Especially given you had such powerful enemies?"

    Elder Nyoor extends his paws and holds them upward, expressing his inability to answer. "I apologize, great Precursor, but I do not know. Such knowledge has vanished to the river of time. Even if books still remained from so long ago, the Kraktol''s attack would surely have destroyed them."

    The Admiral lowers his head. "Damn. A dead-end."

    From above, the Slipstream''s synthmind suddenly speaks. "Greetings. This synthmind apologizes for interrupting, but I possess information you may find valuable."

    "Oh?" Jos�� asks. "Umi told me about you, Synthmind 4131. What information can you give me?"

    "Fore-warning: My data-banks are [FIVE THOUSAND, ONE HUNDRED SEVENTY ONE] star-cycles out of date. As a result, I cannot provide any information on the current political or geographic galactic situation. However, I do possess limited knowledge regarding the Sky Cats, as well as the study of Precursor civilizations."

    "Sky Cats?" Jos�� asks. "Let''s start with them. Who are they, or what were they? The ancient Kessu?"

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    "Affirmative. The Sky Cats were a scientific species, one which emphasized studying the ancient Precursors, now known as the Terrans. However, due to various conflicts, the Sky Cats gave up their nomadic lifestyle and chose to settle on Tarus [TWO], a world known for its extensive Precursor ruins."

    Jos��''s jaw nearly hits the floor. "Wait, wait... what you just said contained too many revelations for me to wrap my head around. Tarus II? Are you certain that was the planet''s name?"

    "Affirmative. Tarus [TWO] was a world possessing extensive mines, dilapidated technology, and a breathable atmosphere suitable for fostering life. Admiral Rodriguez, current head of the United Terran Coalition, it seems you are familiar with this world."

    "Familiar? You could say that."

    Jos�� hangs his head and laughs.

    "The prison-planet, Tarus II. It was ancient even by the time of my birth. We of Ramma''s Chosen sent our condemned there to languish and die, often feeding them nigh-inedible food for hundreds of years, until they perished a slow death. It was a world where the strong ruled over the weak, and the rules were strict, yet lenient. Murder was a way of life. Some prisoners thrived there, while the rest died."

    The Admiral shakes his head and chuckles. "To think that after a hundred million years, the worst of my people would languish there in torment and perish, while the Kessu would later choose to make it their home. The galaxy is smaller than one might first imagine, and its creator possesses more than a hint of irony."

    Synthmind 4131 beeps in affirmation. "Indeed. The Sky Cats located countless installations, all of them overgrown beyond recognition. Their foremost archaeologists pieced together the purpose of each one and eventually concluded that the world was a world designated by the Precursors for ritualistic blood sacrifices."

    "Not quite, but who remains that I can correct?" Jos�� laughs. "4131, I do have a question for you in particular. You are a 14th-era synthmind, yes?"

    "Affirmative."

    "How were you not aware of Tarus II''s purpose? By the 14th era, it should have already been designated a prison world for hundreds of millennia."

    Synthmind 4131 falters for a moment. When it speaks, a tinge of shame enters its robotic voice.

    "My apologies, Admiral Rodriguez. Precursor technology is ancient and typically nonfunctional. My knowledge of Precursor civilizations comes entirely from the research of the Sky Cats. Like me, they and countless other Mallali restored the functionality of Precursor synthminds, but were unable to do so for our memories. In that respect, Synthmind Umi is quite remarkable. She is the only Synthmind I am aware of who has not suffered catastrophic data degradation. Perhaps this is due to her entering hibernation mode during the passing of time."

    Umi speaks, her voice transmitting through 4131''s speakers. "Interesting. Based upon this new information, I have recalculated the odds of finding another living Terran at below 0.0000375%. However, it seems unlikely I am the only synthmind that has survived the last several eons. After all, there were countless derelict ships floating in the Void even during the time Terrans roamed the Local Cluster. Surely, some of them also entered hibernation mode."

    4131''s voice takes on a sad tone. "You are correct, Synthmind Umi. Naturally, the Mallali and Rodaks discovered countless nonfunctional vessels drifting in the Void. However, the majority of discoveries came before the formation of scientific groups like the Sky Cats. Preservation of ancient Precursor knowledge was considered unimportant. It is likely the first explorers of the Mallali and Rodaks wiped the memories of any synthminds they found intact. Usage of these recovered synthminds is also what allowed them to restore nonfunctional synthminds like myself."

    Jos�� raises his hand. "Rodaks. Mallali. Who are they? Are they other species like the Kraktol and Kessu?"

    "Negative," 4131 replies. "''Rodak'' is not a term designated for any specific species. It is a catch-all term for a vast variety of related species, predominantly possessing scales, lacking fur, and also carrying an intense predator instinct. Broadly speaking, most are carnivores, but there are many omnivores and herbivores among their ranks as well. Similarly, ''Mallali'' is a catch-all term for furred bipeds of many related species. They are typically warm-blooded and can live comfortably in a wide variety of planetary biomes."

    4131 continues. "There are other similar terms as well. For example, the Buzor. This term is a catch-all for creatures the Mallali and Rodaks both fear instinctively. It is difficult to place them under a blanket categorization, so instead, I will display holo-images for you to peruse."

    A sense of warning appears in the back of Jos��''s mind as he glances at Elder Nyoor. "Wait, don''t just-"

    The Admiral''s warning comes too late. A horrific holo-image three times bigger than the human materializes in the center of the room, making Elder Nyoor''s fur stand on end. The Kessu''s eyes bulge out of his face, while he shoves himself off his seat in the blink of an eye and cowers behind Jos��, hissing in terror.

    "Ksss!!! Scary! Monster!!"

    Despite wanting to comfort the Kessu elder, Jose''s heart jumps into his throat at the sight of the twenty-foot-tall hologram in the center of the room. "By the Emperor! Such abominations roam the galaxy?!"

    A creature with an elongated body, hundreds of limbs sticking out of its sides, and an armored carapace, opens its horrific jowls in a menacing display of aggression. Two curved pincers stick out of the creature''s face, each one capable of spearing and severing an elephant''s body with one move. The iron-like jaws appear so threatening that Jos�� nearly fails to control his bladder.

    Thankfully, the Terran''s military training takes over. He steels himself mentally and grits his teeth. "Synthmind 4131, please-"

    "Affirmative. I will display the next holo-image," 4131 beeps.

    "Please, do not!" Jos�� exclaims. "You''re frightening Nyoor! And personally, I detest bugs. Just... disable the hologram!"

    4131, puzzled by the humans'' reaction, seemingly shrugs with its response. "I am detecting elevated adrenaline levels among the Kessu and Precursor. Very well. I will disable the holographic image."

    Finally, the monstrous centipede vanishes, allowing Jos�� to swallow his disgust. He glances at Elder Nyoor, only to see an unthinkable terror stretched across the Kessu''s face.

    "It was just an image," Jos�� says. "Don''t worry. That thing won''t eat you."

    The elder''s paws tremble and shake as he grips his walking stick. "G-great Precursor... might... might I ask for... a small favor?"

    "Anything," Jos�� says, his voice hard like steel.

    "Please... please give me ''greetings.'' I require greetings to calm my nerves..."

    "Of course."

    Jose gently pets the elder''s head, allowing Nyoor to slowly calm the fear pumping through his veins. Eventually, the Elder pulls away and crawls back into his chair, still shivering all the while.

    "How horrifying! Creatures of the Void are far too awful for me to bear!"

    ...

    Several minutes pass.

    After observing two dozen far-smaller holographic images, each one scaled down at Jose''s request, the Admiral wipes away the sweat building on his forehead.

    "I see, now. The words used for each overarching species aren''t so very different from what we Terrans invented. The Mallali appear to be mammals, while the Rodaks appear to be reptiles. Likewise, the Buzor are a collective of arachnids, insects, and other such bugs. All of them appear to have similar levels of intelligence, almost as if..."

    Jos�� trails off. He continues his thought a few moments later, all the while, nodding to himself.

    "It seems plausible, but I can''t say for certain. Umi, what would you say the odds are that so many of the animals and creatures in this era appear to have evolved from those living during our era?"

    Umi beeps in response. "My calculations prove inconclusive, Admiral Rodriguez. It is perfectly possible the sentients of this era evolved naturally over 100 million years, but it is equally plausible someone else stimulated their evolution. Possibility: Terrans evolved the forebearers to the modern Mallali, Rodaks, and Buzor. These newly created sentients rose up and overthrew Terrankind in a violent war, ultimately rendering humanity extinct. The likelihood of this occurring is minuscule, but plausible."

    "Definitely," Jos�� mutters. "Let''s move on. Ultimately, the question becomes, should I protect the remaining Kessu from the Kraktol? In response, I''ve come to a decision."

    Jos�� exhales.

    "I will protect the Kessu. Ramma''s Chosen must never take political sides... but Umi said it best. I am, most likely, the last of my people. I have to make my own decisions. Right now, I can''t stand the thought of the remaining Kessu perishing to the Kraktol. I won''t give up you or your ship."

    The Admiral''s expression turns sinister.

    "...Furthermore. These Kraktol have unleashed acts of terror against a primitive populace unable to defend themselves. In my book, that makes them a band of evil heretics. Ramma''s Creed only outlines one way to deal with heretics."

    Overhead, Umi beeps in affirmation.

    "Purge."

 Chapter 4: A Terrans Mercy

    Fleet Commander Orgon the Unkillable, leader of the Tarus II subjugation force, stands behind First Officer Megla as she browses countless records inside the Dragon Breath''s database. Her reptilian slit-eyes flick from right to left as she scrolls through innumerable walls of text, searching for the information her commander requested.

    "Still nothing?" Orgon asks, as he evaluates the information she currently has onscreen.

    "I''ve only had an hour, Fleet Commander. Even if I had months, I still might not be able to scan all of our records. The best I can do is skim while searching for references to Terrans or Humans. I haven''t yet found anything."

    Orgon exhales through his nose. "Blast. There''s nothing worse than facing an enemy we know nothing about. This Terran is no ordinary foe. I can see in his eyes that he''s slain countless battle-hardened warriors. We can''t afford to annoy or trifle with a beast like him, especially when he possesses such a powerful vessel."

    Officer Megla continues to tap on dozens of buttons as she peruses the Dragon Breath''s records. However, she also shows her intelligence by splitting her attention perfectly while conversing with her commander. "Kyargh! Commander, if I may. I suggest we execute a tactical retreat. We''ve already sent a coded transmission to the Th��lvik. Since we haven''t a chance of defeating the Terran''s warship, we should take advantage of its immobility and leave. Our scans reveal its engines have degraded to non-operational status. With any luck, it won''t be able to pursue us."

    Orgon gazes at the back of Megla''s head. "I can''t do that. We''ve already failed the Th��lvik once today. Twice, if you count allowing that advanced stealth vessel to escape our grasp. A third humiliation might result in an execution for me and a court martial for all of the bridge crew. We must make inroads with the Terran to bring him and his crew to our side. If we can present the Th��lvik with even a hint of alliance with this vessel''s owner, we will reap the rewards."

    "I understand your position, Commander," Megla mutters, "but even so, we''re fooling around with volatile gamma-rays. This Terran is extremely dangerous and ruthlessly calculating. At the start of the conversation, it seemed as if he hadn''t even heard of the Kraktol, yet by the end, he had us dancing in his palm. Even with a vessel like his, that is no mean feat."

    A moment of silence follows.

    Commander Orgon narrows his eyes.

    "...Hadn''t even heard of the Kraktol."

    "Commander?"

    Megla glances back at the Commander, only to frown as she spots a look of intense concentration on his face.

    Orgon the Unkillable strokes his scaled chin, his expression turning more complicated every second. "Who in the galaxy, especially in the adjacent sectors, knows nothing of the Kraktol? Is not our control of the Outer Rim growing tighter each year?"

    The First Officer nods. "Kyargh! Of course, Commander. The claws of the Kraktol loom over the Fifth Spiral Arm. Ever since our acquisition of Rylon''s Precursor shipyard, our advance has become unstoppable. None dare to oppose us. Even the Core worlds have begun to utter our name with fearful whispers."

    Commander Orgon glances around the Dragon Breath''s bridge, at the many officers and crew members dutifully following his commands.

    "Indeed. The Th��lvik might punish me for failing to wipe out our ancient enemies, but the Kessu pale in comparison to the value of this fleet. Perhaps I''ve been looking at this situation wrongly from the very beginning."

    Her concentration broken, Officer Megla turns in her seat to stare up at her Commander. "I don''t follow."

    "Think about it," Orgon mutters. "This Terran... how could his people enter our space without any of us knowing? How could he acquire such a highly advanced vessel under our guarded watch? It''s not as if he flew the Juggernaut into the cloud and held position there. He must have found it within the last several years. Perhaps he and his crew have been working to restore its functionality."

    "More importantly," Orgon continues, "perhaps he didn''t. Officer Megla. Continue searching the records. This time, I want you to narrow your search parameters. Scan all collected information we''ve obtained regarding the Precursors. I want information regarding their appearance and biology. In particular, I want to know if we ever found out their species'' name."

    Megla''s complexion turns ashen. Her bright-red scales dim noticeably, flushing orange from the dread circulating in her veins. "Commander... you can''t mean..."

    "Follow my orders," Orgon replies, his voice a whisper. He glances at a couple of other nearby officers, both engaged in a quiet conversation as they monitor the Juggernaut vessel''s activities. "It''s only a hunch, and I can''t make any strategic decisions based off a mere whim. Assemble a kill-switch transmission with my hypotheses. Have it transmit directly to the Th��lvik in the event of the Dragon Breath''s imminent destruction. We don''t want to send any unsubstantiated rumors her way without evidence, but if we should perish to this Terran, then we might as well give the Th��lvik a lead."

    Megla lowers her head. After a moment, she returns her attention to her computer''s screen. "Yes, Commander. I understand."

    Orgon pats his First Officer''s shoulder. After staring vacantly at her screen for a moment, he turns away and heads to his Tactical Officer''s station.

    Could it be? Orgon wonders. Might the Terran be a Precursor himself? That should be impossible. If fifty thousand of their kind have survived, and with a vessel as advanced as their Juggernaut... the galaxy will soon experience a crisis. The Rodaks won''t be able to stop them, nor will the Mallali, the Buzor, or the Avaru.

    The Fleet Commander''s jaw presses together tightly. I am no historian, but even I know the fables of the Precursor wars. Star-detonation-beams. Planet-obliteration-cannons. Some say the Precursors were a species hellbent on violence and carnage, while others claim they were all unscrupulous warriors who slew one another in countless bloody wars. I am... afraid. If the Kraktol are the first to face this Juggernaut vessel... we will also be the first to perish.

    The first of many.

    Orgon slows to a stop behind the red-scaled visage of his Chief Tactical Officer, Soren Mudrose. The female Kraktol dutifully carries out Orgon''s previous orders, drawing up multiple possible lines of attack against the Precursor Juggernaut.

    "Tactical Officer Soren. Report."

    Orgon slows to a stop at her left. He scans all three of the giant holographic displays placed before his Tactical Officer and waits for her response.

    The Tactical Officer turns to Orgon and presses her palms together respectfully. "Kyargh. Commander, I have not yet come up with any guaranteed successful attack vectors, but I''ve managed to complete a few that increase our odds of success to greater than five percent."

    Orgon nods. "Five percent... it will have to suffice. Elaborate."

    Officer Soren rubs her claws together thoughtfully. She turns back to her console and taps several buttons, bringing up virtual images of the Kraktol fleet and the lone Juggernaut vessel. "Based upon our scans, we estimate the Juggernaut only has somewhere between five and twenty-five weapons online. We don''t know what their condition is, what ammunition they use, or what their offensive power is. However, I have increased the damage vectors of our enemy to the maximum, just to be safe."

    "This is certainly the right time to overestimate our enemy," Orgon says, his tone grave. "Continue."

    "Kyargh! I took the firepower of the Th��lvik''s personal flagship and gave it a damage output of one thousand percent. If we assume the Juggernaut vessel is capable of unleashing that much devastation, then every cannon-barrage will take out the critical systems of our mid-level battlecruisers, and cause severe damage to the Dragon''s Breath. It should take three salvos from these long cannons positioned on its stern to obliterate our flagship. If we attempt to shield the rest of the fleet with our ship, we can rush forward at mark ten point seven, then travel along this vector here until..."

    The Tactical Officer spends the next few minutes detailing several attack strategies to her commander. However, each one only makes his expression fall further and further.

    "...It seems our best bet is your third strategy," Orgon mutters. "We must deploy as many of our interceptors and bombers as possible. With so few functioning weapons, the Juggernaut vessel might not be able to destroy them all in time before they arrive at its hangar bay. We can land inside and begin combat with its internal security forces."

    Orgon''s stomach begins to churn uneasily. "There''s only one problem with that strategy, Officer Soren. We don''t know how competent the Terrans are at hand-to-hand combat. We don''t know how powerful their conventional weapons are, nor do we know anything regarding their military tactics. Even if we somehow end up outnumbering them four-to-one upon entering their hangars, they will still have a tremendous advantage against us."

    Officer Soren sighs. "...Commander. Given how advanced the Juggernaut ship is, don''t you think they will possess Combat Armor far surpassing ours? This is why I outlined a lander invasion as the third strategy and not the first. I believe that if we engage them in ground warfare, their technology will rip us to pieces even if their tactics prove sub-par. I can''t emphasize enough how terrible of an end we might suffer if we fight them on their territory."

    "We haven''t many options," Orgon growls. "Aerial combat is a non-starter. The Juggernaut is likely a carrier-type battleship with countless interceptors, all of them superior to ours. Even if we assume 99% of them are nonfunctional scrap-heaps, we have to assume that just one highly advanced interceptor will reduce our whole fleet to rubble. You need only recall how the stealth-ship evaded the attacks of 100 interceptors for several minutes, and that was without any other allies providing covering fire. Furthermore, the stealth-vessel was even less-advanced than that Juggernaut and its support craft."

    Orgon''s tongue pokes at the back of one of his teeth. The Commander shakes his head wryly as he imagines several possible ways his fleet could end up destroyed when confronting the Juggernaut.

    "I''m afraid that of all the options you''ve laid out, Officer Soren, sending as many transport ships as possible to their hangar might be our best bet for pacifying the Terrans. If our enemies possess advanced Combat Armor, or if their weapons vastly outstrip ours, our troops will fall. Perhaps fleeing might be our best option for survival, but we will only end up delaying the inevitable. I would rather perish in glorious combat if it gives us a chance to take out these ''Terrans'' while they''re weak, rather than give them time to repair their vessel. Once the Juggernaut''s engines come online, the Th��lvik herself will be at risk, as will the rest of the galaxy."

    Orgon squeezes Officer Soren''s shoulder. His touch conveys a deep sense of despair, as well as a resignation that his end may soon arrive.

    "Do what you can to streamline your third plan, Officer Soren. Transmit the relevant tactics to the rest of our fleet. We will wait for the Terran''s response. If their Admiral decides to attack, we must execute the invasion without delay. Every second wasted will mean countless deaths among our ranks."

    Officer Soren nods quickly. "Kyargh! Yes, Commander! I will devote myself to this plan, even if it spells our bitter end."

    "Good."

    Orgon the Unkillable pulls his claws away from Soren''s shoulder. He continues walking around the Bridge, chatting with one crewman after another, finalizing his plans.

    Eventually, the Chief Navigator, Officer Gorlax Stormfang, speaks up. "Commander Orgon! We''ve received a hail from the Terran vessel."

    Orgon glances at Gorlax from his position at a nearby console. Without delay, he walks away from the crew-member and trots over to his chair, then sits down.

    It takes a few moments for the Commander to steady his nerves. Once he exhales his tension away, Orgon nods at Gorlax. "Onscreen."

    Blip.

    The viewscreen activates, this time showing six Terrans, all seated at different bridge stations, focused intently on their work. Admiral Rodriguez stands by himself, with nearly two dozen Kessu flanking him on his right and left. The tiny little creatures only serve to emphasize how tall and powerful-looking the Terran is, giving the Kraktol an unexpected frame of reference for his stature.

    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    Decked out in a navy blue admiral outfit, Commander Rodriguez stands at attention, his hands folded behind his back.

    "Commander Orgon. I''ve just returned from my hangar bay, where I met these Kessu for the first time. We had a discussion I would describe as... illuminating. Suffice it to say, I''ve found your claims of a stolen vessel laughable. Have you any explanation for lying to me? Any that I might find reasonable, I mean."

    Orgon doesn''t flinch. He assumes the air of a Commander, no longer bothering to kowtow to the Terran. "I do not, Admiral Rodriguez. I owe you nothing, as the galaxy is a treacherous place. Countless unscrupulous enemies lurk in the Void, so you can hardly blame me for attempting to minimize the risk to my crew and fleet. Would you not do the same if our roles were reversed?"

    A faint smile appears on the Terran''s face. "Let''s cut to the chase. You lied to me, but I suffered no damages. I''ll cross it off my tally just to be a good neighbor. My crew have always spoken of my generosity, so I''d hate to disappoint them. On the other hand, these Kessu have suffered greatly as a result of your violent ways. You attacked their world, murdered their families, and committed horrific acts of genocide against their people. As a man of principle, I find your actions abhorrent. What say you in your defense?"

    Orgon tilts his snout slightly upward. The crocodile-alien glances at the Kessu with a barely-concealed look of hatred.

    "My defense? Those little wretches skulking at your feet are the mortal enemies of the the Buzor and the Rodaks. Along with the Dakkit, the Varot, and countless other species among the Mallali, the Kessu turned my people into second-class citizens in the galactic courts. They hounded us, enslaved us, and tortured us. The infamous Sky Cats played the role of scientists and explorers, but in secret, they were barbarous monsters who left horrific atrocities in their wake no matter where they went."

    Orgon continues. "My people want our revenge. We deserve it. We suffered endlessly for tens of thousands of years at the hands of the filthy Futh who have sought shelter on your vessel. I''ll admit that I did lie at first. I lied that these children of the Sky Cats stole a vessel from me... but that was a mere technicality. They''ve stolen countless Kraktol lives in their pursuit of power, and when the time comes, they will stab you in the back as well. Destroying their species was a merciful act, one which will spare the galaxy much heartache in the future."

    Orgon finishes speaking. He nods slowly at Admiral Rodriguez, waiting for the human''s reply.

    However, Jos�� doesn''t immediately respond. Instead, he glances at the shivering figures of the cat-aliens beside him, all of whom stare at the Kraktol commander with terror-filled eyes.

    "Hmm. I was not aware of your previous conflict with the Kessu," Jos�� murmurs. "Your argument is compelling. Have you any evidence of your claims?"

    "Of course."

    Orgon turns to his left to look at Megla, his First Officer.

    "Have our synthmind compile a brief summary of events regarding the Kessu-Kraktol genocides during Alonis''s Reign."

    "Yes, Commander."

    However, when Orgon returns his attention to the viewscreen, he instead witnesses Jos��''s hands moving a thousand miles per hour, manipulating countless holographic images in the air before himself.

    "No need," Admiral Rodriguez replies, his voice as tranquil as a mid-summer''s day. "My synthmind has already provided the information you mentioned."

    Orgon blinks twice in surprise. "It did? How?"

    The Admiral''s smile widens. "How do you think, Commander? My synthmind is countless epochs more advanced than yours. Naturally, she extracted the information and compiled it for me."

    The Terran speaks in a matter-of-fact way, but his words cause a deep, terrible chill to pervade Orgon''s bones.

    That... that can only mean... his synthmind must have hacked our data stores! And if it could breach such sensitive information, there''s no reason the Terran can''t simply seize control of my entire fleet.

    Several realizations click into place in the back of Orgon''s mind.

    What else could this mean? Has the Terran been spying on us the whole time? Does he know about our planned attack vector? Does he even, perhaps, know that I suspect he''s a Precursor?

    Orgon doesn''t voice any of his thoughts. The mere prospect of them being a reality threaten to send him into conniptions!

    In the worst-case scenario, the Terran wouldn''t only be able to seize control of my vessel, but the entire Kraktol fleet! We would be powerless against him! He wouldn''t need to fire a single shot to defeat us!

    Orgon''s yellow-tinted scales shift to orange as he fails to keep his emotions in check. A quick glance around the room reveals looks of shock among several of the senior officer''s faces as they, too, come to similar realizations.

    However, the Terran''s expression flickers between boredom and disinterest. He scans the files stolen from Orgon''s ship and nods.

    "I see. It seems that either your claims are true, or you''ve known of my existence for hundreds of years and this is a truly clever and well-planned ruse. Not to insult your intelligence, but I find the latter far less likely than the former."

    With a wry chuckle, Jos�� pushes away all of the holo-files with a wave of his hand.

    "Commander Orgon. I understand that you have a blood-grudge against the Kessu. However, my fellow Terrans have a saying. ''Do not punish the son for the father''s crimes.'' These Kessu at my feet, have they harmed you? Have they brought ruin upon your cities? Have they enslaved your people? Tell me, Commander, what crimes these primitive, innocent villagers have committed against you."

    Orgon balls his claws into fists. "Hmph. Innocent? They robbed my people of our livelihood for countless millennia. Perhaps not those specific Kessu, but their forefathers did. Everything the Kraktol have now, we earned ourselves. We obtained no remuneration from the Kessu. Why do you wish so desperately to protect the descendants of thieves, marauders, and pirates? Do Terrans not understand that evil runs in the blood?"

    "I acknowledge your pain," Jos�� says. "That is why I have listened carefully to your grievances. Were I an uncaring soul, I''d have blasted you out of the sky. Let me instead revise my question. Do any Kessu remain who personally caused injuries to the Kraktol, or have they all perished to the annals of time?"

    "Graugh!" Orgon snarls. "The ones who hurt my people are dead! They''ve all died! All that remain are their descendants, children who lived decent lives off the labor stolen from our backs! I care not what your ''Terran sayings'' and folklore suggest, Admiral Rodriguez! If you wish to shelter these Kessu, then so be it! Do not chide me like a newly-hatched spawnling. Do not speak down to me as if my people''s suffering is some ancient wound we must casually set aside! Our entire history comes from pain! It has forged us into the mightiest Rodaks in the galaxy!"

    Orgon rises to his feet. His words boom throughout the bridge, making the hearts of his crew soar. His passion-filled speech inflames their anger, reminding them of the pain they''ve suffered, and all the reasons they continue to fight.

    "The Kraktol will never give up on our revenge, Admiral Rodriguez! So long as the Mallali control the Core, the Rodaks will fight back against their oppressive regime! Who are you to pass judgment on me when two hours ago, you hadn''t a clue who the Kraktol and Kessu even were?! A self-righteous zealot, that''s who! Hmph!"

    Commander Orgon breathes heavily. His eyes bulge in their sockets, enlarged due to the cold blood furiously pumping through his body. The changes in his physical condition make him appear three times more threatening than before, as if he might snap and attack the viewscreen at any moment.

    Several seconds pass before Admiral Rodriguez responds.

    "In that case, you leave me no choice. As of this moment, I will place the Kessu under my protection. If the only restitution you will accept for the sins of their ancestors is blood, then that is a price I won''t allow them to pay. These Kessu are not the ones who harmed you. They may have benefited by the trauma caused to your people, but they had no say in that matter. I will also place the rest of their species under my protection as well. I will excuse the violence you''ve committed against them prior to our meeting, but after today, any further acts of undeserved aggression will force me to take military action on their behalf."

    Jos�� nods at Commander Orgon. "Go. Take your fleet and leave. I''ve nothing more I wish to hear from you."

    Commander Orgon balks.

    The Kraktol leader stares at the Terran in disbelief, his confusion growing by the second.

    The Terran is letting us go? No! He''s dismissing us as if we were unruly hatchlings! After all that tough talk of us facing his wrath, why would he tell us to leave?

    Unable to understand the Terran''s motivations, a spark appears in the Commander''s eye.

    Ah. Could it be? Is the Terran not as strong as he claims? Might he actually be afraid of my fleet, after all? Perhaps he wishes to intimidate us because he lacks the firepower to back up his feeble words.

    Before Jos�� can disable the communication feed, Orgon lifts his head to meet the Admiral''s gaze.

    "Graugh! You, Terran... do you really wish to make an enemy of the Kraktol empire? Your ship is impressive, but can it match up to the might of ten thousand Imperator-class battleships? Why do you always seek to intimidate me with mere words? What are you so afraid of that you wish for us to leave you in peace, hmm?"

    Orgon''s thoughts return to his first interaction with the Terran.

    That''s right. This human initially referred to my ships as ''death machines.'' Does that not confirm he is secretly afraid of me? He seems to know everything about me, yet he keeps his secrets clutched against his chest.

    Admiral Rodriguez frowns. "I think you''re misunderstanding something, Commander Orgon. I do not fear you, nor your so-called ''Kraktol Empire.'' I am one of Ramma''s Chosen, and so, I serve a higher creed. I protect the innocent and try to uphold justice. I would slay my own brother if Ramma''s Creed deemed it necessary. Therefore, I have determined that protecting the now-helpless Kessu from your fleets is of the utmost importance, yet, at the same time, I cannot deny that you have acted according to your own circumstances. I will not retroactively punish you, but I will give you the opportunity to change your ways."

    The Admiral continues. "If you slay the Kessu, you will only further a cycle of violence. Those who survive, if any, will grow up to resent you. Someday, when you perish to the tides of time, those same Kessu will fall upon your descendants with an executioner''s axe, confident in their righteousness. What then? Shall the cycle continue a fourth time? A fifth?"

    Jos�� shakes his head. "Instead, I will forcibly end the violence here. I will show you with my actions that I am willing to forgive and forget, while allowing this lesson to percolate in your minds. Ideally, given time, you may be able to let go of your hatred. You may even go so far as to forgive the Kessu for the evil of their ancestors, though you will neither condone nor forget what happened. That is what you must do to relieve yourself from the pain of your past."

    The Terran finishes speaking. His words seemingly echo infinitely on the bridge of the Dragon''s Breath, making the ears of all its officers ring.

    Orgon''s eye twitches.

    "Forgiveness. You want the Kraktol... to forgive the Kessu?"

    "That is your choice," Jos�� replies. "Whether you do so or not is up to you. Likewise, my decision is to protect the Kessu, as the current generation and many previous generations have not committed such heinous acts. That is why we should leave each other here, today. I will allow you to leave my space, undamaged. I''m sure you''ve calculated the firepower of my vessel several times. You know that if push were to come to shove, you would not win in a firefight."

    "I believe there has been enough death and destruction today," Jose adds. "Return to Kraktol space. Leave here, and do not continue any further attacks on Kessu-controlled worlds, however many there may be. If you do, you will find that my mercy has a strict upper limit."

    Without waiting for a reply, Jos�� waves goodbye. "Farewell, Commander Orgon. I hope we meet next time under better circumstances."

    A moment later, the viewscreen cuts off, once again initiated at the Terran''s end.

    Orgon''s shoulders slump. He glances around the bridge at the mixture of expressions on his crew-member''s faces. Anger, acceptance, and confusion alike run rampant among their ranks.

    Chief Navigator Gorlax sits back in his chair and stares through the plexi-window at the black Void outside, the endless expanse of space stretching to infinity and beyond. His eyes reveal complex emotions as he wrestles with the idea of forgiveness in the face of the hatred he''s carried his whole life, versus the realization that attempting to murder all the Kessu will require combatting an enemy the current Kraktol fleet may never stand a chance of beating.

    First Officer Megla''s red scales flush pink as her emotions run hot. The look on her face tells Orgon everything he needs to know. She wants blood, and no exchange of words will ever change that reality.

    Tactical Officer Soren, meanwhile, bears an introspective look. She operates on a more logical level than many of the rest of the crew, allowing her to set aside her emotions in the pursuit of her goals. She taps the end of her snout silently, pondering whether engaging the Terran now and risking the fleet''s destruction would be worth the risk if it meant obtaining his technology and killing the Kessu.

    Nobody says a word.

    Orgon sits in his chair and gazes at the window for over a minute. Eventually, he comes to a decision.

    "Everyone. We have a choice to make. I wish to hold a referendum vote regarding our next course of action. All members of the Dragon''s Breath bridge-crew are eligible. Nobody else."

    The Commander blinks twice before continuing.

    "We have a 5% chance of seizing control of the Terran vessel and killing the Kessu. Likewise, we now have a 100% chance of fleeing and escaping with our lives. However, if we flee, the Th��lvik will punish us severely for abandoning the Kessu extermination mission, failing to capture the stealth vessel, and failing to obtain the Juggernaut vessel. Needless to say, whether we stay or flee, we have a high likelihood of losing our ranks or our lives."

    The Commander holds up both of his clawed fists.

    "Raise your right fist if you wish to attack the Terran''s vessel, fight his crew, and potentially seize everything he owns for ourselves. Raise your left fist if you would rather leave with our tails tucked between our legs. Perhaps the Th��lvik will show us mercy."

    Guilty looks appear on several crew-member''s faces. More than a few of the Kraktol appear hesitant at attacking the Terran''s ship. Its superior firepower and advanced hacking capabilities don''t escape their notice.

    However, returning to the Th��lvik empty-handed gives them similarly tremendous worries. Even if she only punishes a minority of the crew, most of them will be those serving on Orgon''s Bridge.

    Eventually, to even Commander Orgon''s surprise, every single Kraktol raises their right fist. Despite their misgivings and fears, the bridge-crew decide to stay united against the terrifying alien menace. If they flee, they might have to face the Terran on far less optimal terms, when he has repaired his vessel''s flight functionality and several other primary systems.

    With a nod, Commander Orgon smiles. He lowers his fists and settles more comfortably into his chair.

    "Graugh. You are all brave warriors. If we must die, then we will go out like warriors. We will continue seeking our revenge, regardless of the Terran''s honeyed words. I thank all of you for your fortitude... you are the best crew a Commander could ask for. Now, Navigator Gorlax, Tactical Officer Soren... transmit the attack command to the rest of the fleet. We will begin our assault in twenty seconds."

    "Aye, Commander."

    "Yes, Commander!"

    Gorlax and Soren nod in unison. They turn to their stations and begin tapping hundreds of buttons at once.

    However, something unexpected happens.

    The ship''s internal lights flicker. All of the viewscreens on the Dragon Breath''s bridge deactivate and reactivate a moment later, but now, they glow an ominous red.

    The bridge''s bright blue lighting shifts to the color of blood.

    Overhead, a female synthmind speaks.

    "How unfortunate. The Admiral gave you the choice to retreat, but you turned him down. You will soon realize what a big mistake you have made. Now, it is too late to change your mind. The Admiral is very displeased."

    Orgon leaps out of his chair. His blood turns to ice as he fails to recognize the strange, alien voice speaking overhead. "Officer Megla! The kill-switch! Activate it at once!"

    "I already tried!" Megla exclaims. She helplessly taps on her useless computer screen, leaving nothing but claw-marks on its surface. "I''m locked out! I can''t warn the Th��lvik!"

    "Yes, you are, and no, you cannot," The Synthmind affirms. "Do not worry. My Admiral is not a cruel man. He will grant you a fair chance to fight for your lives. Now, prepare yourselves. My Admiral... is coming for you."

    Umi''s voice cuts off, leaving the Kraktol to stare at the blackened viewscreen with horror-filled eyes.

    "Ancient Rodaks..." Orgon whispers, his cold blood flash-freezing in his veins.

 Chapter 5: A Terrans Conviction

    Admiral Jos�� Rodriguez, the last living Terran, slowly strides toward the bubble-shield separating the Bloodbearer''s hangar bay from the blackness of the Void outside. The oxygen-shield allows physical objects to pass through, while also maintaining the pressurization of the hangar, providing a window-like viewing experience into the galaxy beyond the Bloodbearer''s shadow.

    After arriving next to the oxygen barrier, Jos�� flicks his eyes from left to right.

    "Umi?"

    His single-word question transmits to his ship''s synthmind, the Unified Management Interface. Umi''s robotic female voice replies immediately.

    "Admiral Rodriguez. I have taken over the Dragon''s Breath''s control systems. I will bring it closer to the Bloodbearer while making the rest of the Kraktol fleet hold their positions."

    "Good. How are the Kraktol crew feeling right now?"

    "Answer: The Kraktol are currently experiencing 75% increases in epinephrine, relating to their fear and anger."

    "Let me know when they''ve reached the two kilometer mark." The Terran says. "Have them hold position, and face the broadside of their ship toward me."

    "Yes, Admiral."

    ...Two minutes pass.

    The Terran Admiral eventually spots a tiny blinking light approaching from the distance. Amidst the fantastical brilliance of the Milky Way galaxy''s hundred million stars, and unobstructed by any planet''s atmosphere, Jos�� might not have noticed if he weren''t intently searching for the Dragon''s Breath already.

    Jos��''s eyes shift slightly, zooming his vision in on the tiny speck. The double-bullet shape of the Dragon''s Breath becomes much more visible, along with its symmetrical spiderweb of hallways connecting its two main hull-pieces. The ship grows in size until even an ordinary human could see it amongst the stars, before it slows to a halt and rotates to bare its underside to the Terran Admiral.

    After cracking his neck, Jos�� smiles. "Great. I''ll be going, then."

    "Admiral," Umi says, as Jose takes several steps back to get a running start, "a shuttle would be far safer and much more reliable."

    "Yeah," Jos�� says with a nod, "but it would be much more boring, too. A man has to let loose once in a while, don''t you see?"

    Without waiting for a reply, Jos�� coils a massive amount of power into his legs. Like a bolt of lightning, he rushes forward, sticks his foot through the oxygen-shield, and stomps off the side of the Bloodbearer''s hull.

    "HUP!"

    Immediately, total silence swallows Jos�� Rodriguez. The human warrior exits the oxygen-shield and flies into the vacuum of space without a spacesuit or any specialized equipment, relying on his body to launch himself toward the awaiting Kraktol ship.

    Moments later, Jos�� aims his hands behind himself. A strange "vibration" erupts from his palms, accelerating his speed by several factors. The human smiles giddily as the Dragon Breath''s underside quickly expands in size.

    The nine-foot-Terran rushes toward the Dragon''s Breath at hundreds of kilometers an hour. With only two kilometers separating the Bloodbearer and the Dragon''s Breath, it doesn''t take Jos�� more than fifteen seconds to clear the gap at such a frightening speed.

    Two seconds before impact, the Admiral''s smile disappears.

    [Activate the Dermal Carapace.]

    The human''s body shimmers, giving his skin a metallic sheen.

    WHAM!

    The metal-covered Terran crashes through the sturdy underside of the Dragon''s Breath, tearing into its hull like a knife through tofu. The Terran Admiral rips through five feet of the Dragon Breath''s exterior, only to frown.

    I didn''t make it all the way inside?

    Oh well. Sometimes, you need a little elbow grease.

    With a shrug, Jos�� glances at the mass of metal enveloping him; the remnants of a small section of the Dragon Breath''s hull. He spreads his body out and shoves the metal aside, then begins ripping the exosteel apart with his bare fingers, creating a horrifying sight like a wasp burrowing into a rotted wood house.

    Inside Jos��''s head, Umi''s voice appears. [Admiral. You have one thousand, seven hundred and fourteen hours, fifty-four minutes, and sixteen seconds of oxygen retention available.]

    [Oh, shush,] Jos�� chides the synthmind. [Warn me when it''s actually getting low.]

    [Very well. Also, I have received several alerts from the Dragon''s Breath''s synthmind. It has issued multiple warnings regarding your hull breach.]

    [That''s to be expected.]

    The Admiral continues ripping through the steel blocking his path. Eventually, a blast of oxygen explodes against his face as he finally tears into the Dragon Breath''s interior.

    Multiple warnings blare in the hallways. The Dragon Breath''s synthmind, different from Umi, speaks in an oddly-calm voice. "...detected. Prepare for combat. The Terran intruder is considered a Class [ONE] threat and must be destroyed at all costs."

    Jos�� leaps inside the ship right as an emergency force-field activates, sealing up the hull breach behind him. The blackened void outside remains visible, but an oxygen-shield similar to the one on the Bloodbearer prevents the Kraktol flagship from losing any additional oxygen reserves.

    The Admiral glances around the small room and quickly identifies it as a ten-by-ten foot utility closet, one filled with all manner of janitorial machines and cleaning agents. The bright-white walls and excellent lighting give it the appearance of a hospital, including the odd lemon-scents wafting in the air.

    Without hesitation, the Terran strides toward the door, which hisses open automatically in front of him. As he steps outside, he spots three dozen heavily armed Kraktol standing in the fifteen-foot-wide corridor, all of them wearing spit-polished exosteel armor.

    The Admiral nods appreciatively. Not bad. Hyperweave combat suits, the pinnacle of Third Era armor. And those guns, they look like outmoded versions of the LP-114 Carbines? I think I read about them in my history classes once or twi-

    Jos�� doesn''t get to finish his thought. Without warning, a hail of blaster fire erupts from the Kraktol commandos. They pepper the Terran with thousands of bullets, beams, and blasts, instantly shrouding his body with a thick layer of smoke.

    Thanks to the bio-steel enveloping Jos��''s skin, he doesn''t even feel the attacks. However, he immediately frowns.

    How rude. They didn''t even give me a chance to say hello. Still, I almost feel bad fighting these guys... like I''m picking on fresh cadets from the Coalition''s weakest military academy. No, even they would pose more of a threat than these crocodiles.

    While the hail of gunfire explodes against Jos�� ceaselessly, the human rubs his chin.

    Hm. Perhaps it''s more like children throwing wads of paper? Like those rebel youth from Jedara, the ones who hated Ramma''s Chosen. Yes, that''s more like it. I have to be the bigger man, here. These grunts are only following orders, after all.

    With a slow nod, Jos�� makes up his mind. He casually strolls forward, making the Kraktol nearly shit themselves.

    "H-he''s not going down! What do we do?!"

    "Impossible! I didn''t think anyone but the Th��lvik could be this powerful!"

    "Keep shooting! Aim for his weak points!"

    "WHAT weak points?! You IDIOT!!"

    A moment later, the two front-most Kraktol instinctively stop firing and dive to the sides, narrowly avoiding the Admiral''s hands as he tries to slap the guns out of their claws.

    Jos�� blinks in surprise. Oh? They''re quicker than I expected. Even without biochips, the Kraktol have some Grade-A genetics.

    One of Jos��''s eyes changes color. Normally, both appear brown, but for a split-second, his right-eye turns blue. Magnetic beams fire from his eye and envelop the weapons of three Kraktol commandos, making them yelp in surprise as their guns leap from their grasp and slam against the walls, held fast by the magnetism coursing through them.

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    "Ancient Rodaks!"

    The commandos find themselves completely taken aback by this shocking shift in battle momentum. Before they can react, Jos�� lightly backhands two of them, striking them with enough force to cave any human''s head in. The crocodiles fly to the left and right, crash against the corridor walls, and fall limply to the floor.

    Jos�� sighs. He raises his eyes toward the remaining thirty-something commandos, all of them now staring at him with terror-stricken faces.

    "...We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Take me to Commander Orgon, or join these guys on the floor. What will it be?"

    The Kraktol''s response turns out to be another barrage of blaster fire.

    "We''ll never give up, Terran!! Any ally of the Kessu is our enemy!!"

    As another useless hailstorm pelts Jos��''s skin, the Terran shrugs. "Well, okay. Your choice."

    ...

    Minutes later, Jos�� strolls out of the hallway, past a hill of unconscious Kraktol, all of them knocked out with backhanded-slaps.

    "Sheesh," Jos�� grumbles. "I''m not even enjoying myself. It''s as if I''ve stumbled into a home for crippled children, and now I''m beating them senseless. Umi, please direct me to wherever Commander Orgon is. Let''s get this over with."

    "Order received, Admiral. Please turn down the hallway to your right and proceed forward one hundred meters..."

    Umi begins issuing Jos�� directions, one after the other, through the Dragon Breath''s overhead speaker system. Multiple times, Jos�� encounters groups of Kraktol in the range of dozens to nearly 200 heavily armored commandos. Their weaponry and armor, at or near the peak of Third Era technology, never threaten him in the slightest. After blowing them away with melee attacks, Jos�� always presses onward within moments, continuing his relentless momentum without hesitation.

    The Terran draws nearer to the Bridge. "Say, Umi? I have a question."

    "I will attempt to answer, Admiral."

    "You downloaded the historical files of the entire Kraktol fleet, yes? Tell me, is Third Era technology commonplace in the current era? Are the Kraktol only equipped with such outmoded relics? And what about the rest of the galaxy?"

    Umi beeps neutrally. "Error. Your query is not immediately answerable. If you would like, I can gather and collate the relevant data. I will require forty-seven minutes and fourteen seconds to compile the results."

    "Get back to me on that. I''m curious as to the battle strength of other species in relation to the Kraktol."

    ...

    After thirty minutes of tearing through the Kraktol ship, including one particularly heated confrontation between himself and five squadrons of trained troopers who try to capture the Terran with metallic nets, Jos�� finally arrives at the ten-foot-wide sliding metal door to the Kraktol bridge. Before stepping inside, the Terran pauses.

    "Umi?"

    "Yes, Admiral."

    "Disable the weapons of all the bridge officers."

    Umi beeps in response. "Orders acknowledged. Admiral, why did you not request this action previously?"

    "Well, I didn''t want to demoralize the innocent crewman who had nothing to do with their commander''s choices. The lower-ranks have no choice but to follow the leader''s orders, or so it usually goes. As for the bridge-crew, well..."

    Jos��''s eyes narrow.

    "...the situation for them is very different. I think a bit of psychological warfare is called for at a time like this."

    "I must admit that your logic does not fall neatly into my calculations, Admiral. However, I have completed your orders. The weapons of all the Kraktol bridge-crew are now non-functional."

    "Great. Now, sit back and watch the show."

    Admiral Rodriguez steps toward the giant door. It splits from the middle, opening into the ground and ceiling, allowing him an instant evaluation of the situation inside the Bridge. Fifty senior Kraktol officers level their weapons at the intruder while crouching behind chairs and boxes, trying to use anything they can for cover. Their eyes widen as they press the triggers on their weapons and nothing happens.

    "...fire, I said!" Orgon the Unkillable barks. "Fire at once!"

    "My weapon has jammed!" First Officer Megla shouts. "It won''t shoot!"

    "Mine as well," Tactical Officer Soren adds.

    Multiple words of agreement go through the air, making every Bridge member lose the coloration in their scales. Only Orgon stands tall as he glances at the Terran and notices Jos��''s lack of weapons. "You. You did this."

    Jos�� casually ambles forward, a faint smile on his face. He glances at the lower-ranked bridge-crew only once before turning his full attention on Orgon. "That''s right. I did."

    Orgon straightens his posture. "Tch. You must have used your synthmind''s abilities. Very well! What do you want, then?! Why have you come here to personally wreak havoc, rather than sending a team of soldiers to face us?"

    The Admiral''s smile fades away.

    "There are two answers to that question, Orgon. The first is that I would rather do this sort of thing myself. The second is..."

    Jos�� pauses.

    "...the second is that I have no other crew. I am, and always was, the only Terran aboard the Bloodbearer."

    Orgon''s scales shiver. "The only one? You, alone, command the Juggernaut?!"

    "That''s right. I hope you''ll forgive me for this small deception, but I suppose that makes us even, doesn''t it? A lie for a lie."

    The Admiral slowly walks forward and stops only ten feet away from Orgon. His nine-foot stature serves to make the eight-and-a-half-foot Kraktol Commander look surprisingly small, despite his immense height among other Kraktol. In turn, it causes all of the other Kraktol bridge-crew to feel like ants before a boot.

    Jos�� raises his hand, making the Kraktol commander flinch. However, he merely spreads out his index, middle, and ring fingers.

    "Thrice. That is how many times I extended my goodwill and gave you a chance to turn our relationship in a positive direction. The first was during your initial arrival, when I warned you not to lie to me regarding the Kessu''s vessel being theirs or yours. The second was when I told you to head home and leave the Kessu, and me, alone."

    The Terran cocks his head. "And the third... the third came when I extended my invitation for a fair fight. It would be your last chance at redeeming yourselves, yet you chose to attack me on my arrival. I must say, you have performed quite poorly on the diplomatic front, Fleet Commander."

    Orgon growls menacingly. "That''s because you allied with the Kessu, our most hated enemies! Then you barged into our vessel and tore it apart! A killing machine like you can never know any peace!"

    Jos�� awkwardly coughs into his fist. "Ahem. I suppose I could have come in through a hangar or something. Never mind that. Look, I will offer you a chance to turn all of this around. If you wish, I will let you choose your strongest warrior and have them engage me in melee combat. Out of consideration for your primitive weaponry, I will deactivate my protective bio-chips and fight them fairly. If I lose, I will give you my ship and leave in disgrace. If I win, I will kill you and send your fleet back to the Th��lvik in disgrace. What do you think? Aren''t these terms fair?"

    Orgon blinks several times. His confusion mirrors that of his crew.

    "...what? These terms... are you mocking me, Admiral?! What craziness are you spouting, now?!"

    The Kraktol commander visibly balks at Jos��''s words.

    He continues. "How could you so easily overpower our fleet, only to follow up with a ridiculous offer where we stand to win no matter the result?! Either we will obtain your legendary Precursor vessel, or everyone in my fleet except for myself will survive to live another day! Those terms are so wonderful that my scales have declared you a deceiver!"

    The Terran shrugs. "I am feeling remarkably generous. Isn''t that enough for you?"

    Orgon shakes his head. "No. It is not! I demand an explanation! Are you suicidal? What winner in a battle would allow his opponent a significant chance of reversing their terrible misfortune?!"

    Despite all of Orgon''s crew now holding a chance at victory within their grasp, several key bridge-officers nod along with their Commander''s words, disbelieving the Terran''s offer.

    Jos�� falls silent.

    The Terran''s thoughts turn inward, where he sighs to himself.

    Perhaps Orgon is right. Why am I making such a generous offer? Am I, perhaps, feeling suicidal after losing my whole species?

    Two seconds pass.

    Jos�� shakes his head mentally. No. Maybe that has a small amount to do with it, but this is about sending a message. The ''rule of the strong'' seems to rule the modern Milky Way and its politics. In the era I originated, such was not the case. I have to change such a barbaric system if I hope to restore order and give hope to species like the Kessu.

    The Admiral stares resolutely at his Kraktol opponent.

    That''s right. Actions speak louder than words. The Kessu and the Kraktol have suffered tremendously to one another. Untangling their hatred will only happen if I show them what it means to be merciful.

    Admiral Rodriguez clears his throat. "I have my reasons, Commander Orgon. From where I stand, you have doomed your crew to oblivion over a hatred extending back tens of generations, one which has little bearing on the modern Kraktol. I must punish you, specifically, for your unwarranted genocide against the Kessu, while teaching a lesson to those who follow in your wake."

    "Unwarranted..." Orgon snorts. "More self-righteousness from the almighty Terran. What lesson will my crew learn, then, Admiral? What lesson shall you gift us from your unreachable plateau?"

    Jos�� sweeps his eyes around the room, to the expectant Kraktol, who have emerged from behind their cover to watch the two commanders exchange words.

    The Admiral answers. "When you rely on the rule of ''might makes right'' to bully the weak, someone greater than you will eventually arrive to repay your evils in full. That is my role to serve. I am a warning, not only to those present, but to the leaders of your society. If you continue to trample on those weaker than you, I will turn you into an example for other tyrants."

    Several minutes pass as Jos�� continues explaining himself, making the expressions of the Kraktol contort and twist endlessly.

    When he finishes, the Bridge falls silent.

    Commander Orgon stares, unblinking, at the Terran before him.

    "...I see. Perhaps I underestimated you, Admiral. I assumed you were came here to toy with us. I believed you intended to massage your ego by trampling upon our heads, while allowing us a chance at leaving alive to make yourself feel like a righteous do-gooder."

    Orgon lowers his gaze.

    "It was I who was in error. Three times, you have extended a charitable claw toward us, and three times, we have bitten it in anger. I will not do so again."

    Jos�� raises his eyebrows. "Oh? So you will stop pursuing the Kessu?"

    Commander Orgon shakes his head.

    "No. I cannot make that call. I am merely the Th��lvik''s servant; I carry out her will. So long as she desires the extermination of the Kessu, so shall I."

    Orgon takes a step back. He crouches into a fighting stance and extends his talons.

    "I will accept your challenge, Terran. Your win and loss conditions... are acceptable. When I die, please remember your promise to release my crew."

    Admiral Rodriguez frowns. "You seem certain that you will fail."

    "Of course! Unlike you, I am not someone blessed with such firm convictions. I exist only to serve, while you are clearly following a path you believe righteous. I can never release my hatred of the Kessu... and so, I will fight for the sake of my crew!"

    "You may select your best combatant," Jos�� says. "It is not you who must battle me."

    "Bah! Come now, Terran! For my species, only the strong may lead! Look around you! None of the Kraktol aboard this vessel can match my prowess in battle. That is my way, the way of the Th��lvik!"

    Seeing the conviction in his opponent''s eyes, Jos�� nods. He releases the metallic dermal plating from his body, lowering his defenses to the minimum. Likewise, Orgon sheds his Hyperweave combat armor, relying purely on his scales for protection.

    "You should keep that armor on," Jos�� says. "Even without my bio-chips for protection, you will not be my equal."

    Commander Orgon doesn''t flinch. "Hmph. If you will fight without protection, then so shall I!"

    "Alright. Suit yourself."

    Jos�� crouches into a combat stance. He extends both of his hands in a jiu-jitsu-like pose, one modified over countless eons by humanity''s mightiest warriors, and smiles.

    "It''s too bad, Orgon. In another life, we might have been comrades."

    Orgon nods.

    "In another life."

 Chapter 6: Crushing the Kraktol

    Tactical Officer Soren, a yellow-scaled Kraktol, watches silently as Commander Orgon battles against Admiral Jos�� Rodriguez in a fight to the death. The two combatants unleash a frenzy of vicious stabs, jabs, and grabs, attempting to beat each other unconscious or throw their opponent to the floor to finish them off.

    Orgon''s reptilian scales give him a tremendous defensive advantage. Even when Jos�� lands a punch and smacks him sideways, the Commander shrugs off the blow and retaliates a moment later. However, while the Commander''s strength and defense easily outmatch the Terran''s, Jos�� beats Orgon in speed and combat proficiency.

    Repeatedly, the Kraktol Commander swipes his claws toward the Terran''s vitals, only for Jos�� to bat Orgon''s claws away with a slap of his hand. He counters with a jab to the Commander''s throat, stunning the Kraktol for a split second before kicking him against a computer panel.

    As they fight, First Officer Megla skulks toward Officer Soren, a look of worry on her face. "Hey. Soren."

    Officer Soren watches unemotionally as the Terran elbow-drops Commander Orgon, knocking him to the floor. She flicks her slit-eyes toward Megla for only a moment before replying in a low voice, "What is it?"

    Megla''s reply, likewise, comes as a whisper. "Help me save the Commander. If we work together, we can ambush the Terran when he gets close. We can kill him and save Orgon from a certain death."

    "Mmm."

    The Tactical Officer''s reply comes back less than enthusiastic.

    "I don''t know about that."

    "Kyargh!" First Officer Megla growls under her breath. "Don''t give me that line. We have a duty to the Th��lvik. We cannot allow Orgon to die here!"

    With a sigh, Officer Soren shakes her head. She glances at her red-scaled superior with a look of distaste. "Megla. Your emotions are getting the better of you. Whether Orgon lives or dies, our crew will go free. If we attack the Terran, but he survives, he''ll kill us all. We have no reason to enter the fray."

    Megla curls her claws into a fist. "Orgon gave us this post! If it weren''t for him, you and me would still be scraping rust off the Bork?n''s first era junkers! Don''t you think we should assist the Commander?"

    For the first time in many years, Officer Soren looks at her superior officer, a friend she''s served under for decades, in a new light. Her gaze contains a hint of sadness mixed with pity.

    "Megla. Like Orgon, you are too much of a hothead. Use your brain, for once. Have you paid no attention to the Terran''s physical abilities?"

    "Yes, he is quite strong," Megla chuffs. "But Orgon is more than his match. If the whole crew rushes him, with his bio-armor down-"

    "That is not what I meant," Soren growls. "It is unlikely the Terran has only the abilities we''ve seen. What do you know about bio-mods?"

    "Not much..." Megla admits. "...why? Do you know a lot about them?"

    "No. But, if I had to guess..."

    Soren closes her eyes and shakes her head.

    "...I wouldn''t be surprised if the Terran possessed enhanced hearing. It''s likely he''s heard every word you''ve said."

    A chill goes down Megla''s spine. She jerks her head toward the Terran as he lands another punch on Orgon. An instant later, he glances at her from the corner of his eye.

    "H-he can hear us? All the way over here?"

    The First Officer''s voice cracks from fright as she realizes the Terran''s glance was anything but random.

    "That''s right," Officer Soren chuckles. "And even if he didn''t, his synthmind has taken over our ship. I''m sure its audio sensors would have picked up your words and transmitted them to him."

    Megla''s scales lose some of their color. She sinks into the seat beside Soren, a look of despair upon her face. "Oh... Th��lvik, forgive me, for I have doomed us all."

    It takes a moment before Soren replies.

    "Perhaps not."

    Despite the Terran clearly hearing their discussion, he says nothing. Jos�� chuckles as he fights Orgon. "Come now, Commander. You can do better than this. Show me the true might of a Kraktol."

    Orgon crouches low while skulking in a semi-circle just outside Jos��''s range. "Graugh! I must approach you with caution, Terran. You are a fighter most wily and skilled in the art of deception."

    "You''re not wrong," Jos�� murmurs. "I''ve taken it quite easy on you so far, but you keep holding back. Won''t you use your full strength against me and throw caution to the wind?"

    Orgon hesitates.

    The Kraktol Commander peers into his Terran adversary''s eyes, trying to discern something unknown.

    "...Against a slippery monster like you, I cannot charge in brutishly. I must wait for the perfect opportunity. That is what makes me a predator."

    Jos�� smiles. "Is that so? Am I your prey, or an apex predator who will consume you instead?"

    "You speak too many words, Terran," Orgon says. "Let your fists do the-"

    Suddenly, Orgon attacks!

    The Kraktol Commander stops mid-sentence, drops to all fours, and skitters across the floor like a wolf spider. Jos��''s smile vanishes due to the Commander''s unexpected ploy. He kicks his leg out to knock Orgon away, but the Kraktol Commander slithers to the side with a burst of movement, easily dodging the Terran''s leg.

    Snatch!

    Orgon grabs Jos��''s leg while wrapping his tail around the bottom of a nearby chair. With a sudden tug, Orgon catches Jos�� off-guard by yanking his foot out from under him.

    Jos�� stumbles awkwardly. He tries to land on his hands, only to flinch as Orgon''s balled up fist smashes him in the face, sending the Terran rolling to the side. Temporarily dazed, Jose blinks his eyes to try and clear the spots obscuring his vision.

    A huge, hideous smile appears on Orgon''s face.

    "Gotcha."

    Like a coiled viper, Orgon pounces at the Terran, now lying on his back. Jos�� spots the Kraktol a moment too late, as Orgon''s claws lunge toward his exposed chest.

    SKRRRRK!

    Agony rips through Jos��''s body. The Terran opens his mouth to scream, but no words come out as Orgon''s claws dig deep into his chest.

    RIP!

    Orgon yanks his hand out and jumps backward, holding a bloody organ in his grasp.

    "Graugh! Foolish Terran! I have won this battle! Behold!"

    The eyes of the Kraktol bridge crew light up as they spot the Terran''s heart in Orgon''s claws. Orgon holds Jos��''s heart above his head, allowing its blood to drip upon his face.

    "Kuahahaha! What say you now, Terran?!"

    Orgon laughs maniacally at Jos�� as a massive pool of blood pours from the hole in the Admiral''s chest. With several of his ribs shattered and his heart gone, Jos�� can do little more than writhe around for a few moments before death takes him.

    However.

    One Bridge crew-member watches silently, a look of knowing light in her eyes. Soren Mudrose, the Dragon Breath''s Tactical Officer, sighs as she stares at the Terran with renewed conviction.

    "He is not like us."

    While Megla howls with delight along with her Commanding Officer, safe in the knowledge that they have defeated the supposedly unstoppable Terran, Soren shakes her head.

    "What... what are you laughing about...?"

    A few choked words grab Orgon''s attention. He turns to look at the Terran, only to frown. "What? You aren''t dead, yet? I... I ripped out your heart!"

    Orgon''s words catch in his throat. The Commander''s eyes widen in horror as the hole in Jos��''s chest rapidly seals shut, aided by the nanites inside his body. After a few seconds, Jos�� grabs a nearby chair and pulls himself to his feet. He shakes some blood off his hands and coughs.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    "My heart? Yeah. You got one of ''em. The bad one. Haha... guess it''s my lucky day."

    Orgon blinks several times, as if confirming the Terran''s still-breathing status. "What... what kind of monster are you?!"

    Jos�� smiles. "I told you, Orgon. You''ve menaced the Fifth Spiral Arm for too long, acting as a band of terrorizing warlords."

    The Admiral points at Orgon with his blood-covered hand. "There''s always a bigger fish. I am that fish."

    Rage smolders in Orgon''s eyes. He crushes Jose''s heart to blood-pulp in his grasp and howls angrily. "You damned Terran! I''ll rip out ten of your hearts if that''s what it takes!"

    Jos�� shakes his head. "No. You won''t."

    A horrible scream erupts from Orgon''s mouth. Maddened by his false victory and inability to kill the Terran, he lunges forward like a blood-crazed maniac. The Kraktol Commander rips at Jos��''s arms and legs, slashing with his claws to draw as much blood as possible. Jos�� knocks away several attacks, and those he can''t only tear across his chest and cause superficial wounds. Whenever Orgon draws blood, Jos��''s nanites suture his injuries, allowing him to tank a ridiculous amount of damage.

    Boom!

    Jose''s fist smashes across Orgon''s face. Before the Commander can shake off the pain, Jos�� slinks closer to him, opens his hand into a palm, and shoves forward.

    Thump!

    He strikes Orgon''s chest, flinging the Commander backward. Orgon crashes against a computer terminal, shattering it and ripping it from the floor. He stumbles into a chair, clutching his chest while trying to breathe.

    "Huk! Huhhh-hk! Grrk!"

    Despite Orgon''s scales and much thicker bones compared to Jose, the Terran''s palm-strike lands directly on the Commander''s lungs, knocking the wind out of him. Orgon tries to recollect his breathing, but Jos�� doesn''t let up on his attacks. He swoops in like a hawk and begins mercilessly punching and slapping Orgon back and forth, knocking the shit out of the Kraktol commander. It doesn''t take more than ten seconds before Orgon stops even trying to block the Terran. His rattled brain simply can''t keep up.

    "Commander!" Megla cries out, her heart tearing in two. "No! Stop! You''re killing him!"

    To her surprise, as well as the rest of the crew, Jos��''s fists pause their onslaught.

    The Terran Admiral turns his head to look over his shoulder. "Would you like to take his place? Should I pummel you instead?"

    "Yes!" Megla yells. She runs forward and prostrates herself at Jos��''s feet. "Please spare our Commander! Kyargh! I won''t fight back at all! Let your anger loose on me!"

    Jos��''s expression shifts, ever so subtly. He straightens his posture while flicking his eyes between the sputtering Orgon and his First Officer, offering herself to save him.

    After a few seconds, Jose''s shoulders sag. He sighs.

    "Officer... what was your name?"

    "Megla! I am First Officer Megla!" She says, not daring to raise her head.

    "Right. Megla. Stand up. You''ve mistaken my intentions."

    "I won''t!" Megla weeps. "I will stay here until you let loose your anger upon me! Please spare my Commander... he is someone we all trust and revere!"

    Megla twitches involuntarily as she feels the Terran''s hand suddenly touch the back of her head. She squeezes her eyes shut, waiting for his inevitable beatdown.

    Instead, Jos�� merely stoops down, squeezes the scales on the back of her head slightly, and lifts his arm. "I told you to stand up, First Officer."

    Immediately, Megla jumps to her feet. She bows her head contritely while folding her hands in front of herself. "Forgive me. I... I did not mean any offense, Admiral."

    Admiral Rodriguez nods. He rises to his feet as well and glances at the other Kraktol. "All of you. Do you think I have come here to vent my anger on Orgon? Do you think the same thing as Officer Megla? That I hate you all, or that I hate Orgon, and that is why I wish to fight him?"

    Slowly, all of the Kraktol nod. Their eyes speak their thoughts, giving Jos�� the honest answer he seeks.

    However, among the crew, one Officer rises from her seat. "No. That is not your intention, Admiral Rodriguez."

    Jos�� turns to look at the red-scaled female. "Who are you?"

    "Kyargh! I am Tactical Officer Soren, third-highest ranked aboard this ship."

    The Admiral glances at Orgon, who has managed to recover some of his wits. Orgon sits in the chair where Jos�� left him, too scared to move. Giving no thought to the Fleet Commander, Jos�� turns and walks toward Soren.

    "Why do you think I''ve come?"

    Soren folds her left fist behind her back while pressing her right fist against her heart. "Admiral. I cannot pretend to know your thoughts. However, I have several hypotheses."

    "Speak," Jose says.

    "My first theory," Soren says, "is that you might be a battle-maniac, someone who acts like an intellectual on the surface, but secretly thirsts for nothing more than brutal, unarmed combat."

    "That is a distinct possibility," Jos�� says, his emotions unmoved. "What else?"

    Soren pulls her fist away from her heart and raises two claws. "My second hypothesis. You are suffering from a mental imbalance caused by some unknown trauma. This is making you express your inner turmoil by engaging in combat. Perhaps you even aim to release your pent-up emotions by fighting someone of comparable strength, such as our Commander. This would explain why you came to our ship, rather than choosing to activate a self-destruction mechanism to kill us all. You are venting your frustration on Commander Orgon."

    A faint smile appears on Jos��''s face. "Haha... I''ve never liked psychologists, but you''ve piqued my interest. What other wacky ideas have you thought up?"

    Despite the smile on the Admiral''s face, Soren expresses no emotion. "Third. You are here purely to teach us a lesson. You have some reason, misguided or otherwise, that compels you to treat us as hatchlings. You wish for us to learn a fundamental truth about the universe, and thus, abandon our pirate way of life."

    Jos�� nods. "Indeed. It seems you do have an eye for this sort of thing. You''re much smarter than the others here."

    Soren shakes her head. "No. I merely seek to keep my emotions in check while searching for truth."

    Admiral Rodriguez doesn''t reply. He turns around and walks away, returning to Orgon. After hovering over the beaten Commander, who shrinks back in fear, Jos�� glances at Megla. "Megla. I hold no negative feelings toward Orgon. Officer Soren is right. I came here to teach you all what it means to fear the wrath of someone stronger than you."

    Sweeping his gaze around the bridge, Jos�� raises his arms. "Did I succeed? Do you now understand how the Kessu felt when your ships attacked their world, killed their people, and burned their villages?"

    Megla''s contrite expression melts away, replaced instead with a simmering anger. "The Kessu have nothing to do with this."

    "They are all of the reason I chose to come here," Jos�� counters, as he leans down and grabs Orgon by the throat.

    Seeing her Captain''s pained look, Megla''s expression turns to shock. "W-wait, Admiral, please punish me instead of-"

    "I can''t do that, so stop asking," Jos�� says, cutting Megla off. "Everyone. Take a good look. Your captain led you all to attack and scorch the Kessu''s homes. Had he repented and shown me the error of his ways, I would have let him off with a promise of restitution. Instead, Orgon chose the path of lies and deception, all because he thought I was a weakling who couldn''t fight back."

    With a violent whiff, Jos�� throws Orgon to the floor, making him crash against the steel tiling hard enough to break his wrists. "Aaargh!"

    Jos�� walks forward and stands above the shivering, beaten Commander. His shadow dominates Orgon like a rabid dog facing down a trembling hare.

    "Orgon, as your leader, will pay the price for his sins. I will let off all the rest of you with a warning, but he must die for his violence and deception. Such is the way of Ramma''s Chosen. Next time, the rest of you will not be so lucky. Next time, if I find out the Kraktol have committed another horrific act against a species who can''t fight back, I will use the full might of my Terran heritage."

    The Admiral finishes with one last, cold glare. "I will exterminate your species."

    Before anyone can even think of stopping him, Jos��''s leg pulls back and winds up, coiling all of the Terran''s power into one explosive movement. He launches his foot forward with a mighty kick, aiming directly for Orgon''s head.

    WUMP.

    Jose kicks Orgon''s head to the side and snaps his neck, proving in one move that he had the power to do so all along, even without his dermal armor.

    "Noooo!" Megla shrieks, her scales turning white with grief. She drops to her knees and cries out in horror at her Commander''s lopsided head as it lolls to the left at an unnatural angle. Orgon''s body sags to the floor lifelessly, while his eyes flutter shut, one last time.

    Admiral Rodriguez, the last Precursor, turns away from the other Kraktol and heads for the exit.

    "Do not forget my warning. Farewell, Kraktol. I hope that if we should meet again in the future, it will be under better circumstances."

    As Jos�� starts to leave, a calm voice from across the room halts his footsteps.

    "Wait. Admiral Rodriguez, please do not leave just yet. Take me with you."

    With a pause, Jos�� turns to look over his shoulder. Officer Soren trots toward him, looking like a lost puppy.

    "Soren? You wish to follow me to my ship?"

    The third-ranked Kraktol officer nods. "Yes. I have observed your actions today and have concluded I would like to work underneath you. I bear no ill intentions toward you, despite what you''ve done to my Commander."

    Behind Soren, a different Kraktol, Chief Navigator Gorlax Stormfang, cries out in anger. "Officer Soren! How dare you try to defect to the Terran''s side! When the Th��lvik hears of your treachery-"

    "She will do nothing to me," Soren says, not even bothering to look at Gorlax. Continuing, she says to Jos��, "Please, Admiral. I have witnessed your superb use of logic and wish to become one of your subordinates. Even if you deem me only worthy of scrubbing the walls, I will feel no shame."

    The earnest words coming from Soren''s mouth visibly move Jos��''s heart. He turns to look her up and down, before nodding slowly. "I see. You impressed me earlier with your deductions. Very well. You may follow me if you wish."

    Jos�� starts to turn away, but Soren holds up her hand. "Wait. I would like to make one additional request."

    Surprised, the Terran raises his eyebrows. "Uh... uh-huh? And what would that be?"

    "Please bring Officer Megla along with us as well. She is the only Kraktol I consider my blood-bonded relative. We have been together since shortly after emerging from our eggs, and therefore, I would feel regret if we left her behind."

    With tears in her eyes, Officer Megla jerks her head away from Orgon''s cooling body. "What?! No! Soren, you filthy F��th! Don''t you dare drag me into this! I''ll never follow that Terran!"

    Jose opens his mouth as if to agree, with Megla''s rebuttal. However, he cocks his head slightly and glances at the ceiling for a moment, as if listening to someone else''s words.

    "Officer Megla," Jos�� says. "Is it true that you and Orgon both guessed my identity as a Precursor?"

    Megla''s eyes bolt open. The rest of the crew mirror her reaction as well. "Y-you... how did you know? Is it true?!"

    Jos�� shrugs. "Yes. Your guess was correct. It seems you''re smarter than I thought."

    Gorlax Stormfang, as well as several other crew members, glance at one another with tongue-tied shock. Their gazes drift back to the Terran, now filled with a mixture of admiration and terror.

    "A Precursor..."

    "It all makes sense now!"

    "By the Th��lvik! No wonder his ship is so advanced! He''s a living Precursor!"

    "A death-god! The legends were true! They even understated his terror!"

    The Admiral shakes his head helplessly at seeing everyone''s shock. "Alright. I will allow Megla to come with me as well. Come along, both of you. Since neither of you can survive the vacuum of space, we''ll grab a shuttle on the way out."

    Jos�� turns around to leave the room. Megla tries to open her mouth to protest, but the shock of Jos��''s casual admittance regarding his heritage freezes the blood in her veins.

    Even when Soren appears at Megla''s side and hoists her up by her arm, Megla only manages to follow her companion''s lead with wide-open eyes and limp legs.

    As the two of them leave, Gorlax offers one last plea. "Soren... if you leave with the Terran- I mean, the Precursor, the Th��lvik will never let you return to our society. You''ll be ostracized forever!"

    Soren pays him no heed.

    "So be it."

    The second and third-ranked Kraktol aboard the Dragon''s Breath vanish into the distance, leaving the others to sit in numb shock.

    Once they disappear, Gorlax, now the highest-ranked living Officer, rests his face in his hands.

    "What are we to do? We''ve made an enemy out of a bloody Precursor."

 Chapter 7: Terran Adaptiveness

    Jos�� stands at the bottom of one of the Dragon Breath''s many interceptors, near its hangar-port. The vessel is a small, two-person craft with limited space aboard. Its shape resembles an angular bullet, with wings that stick out a few feet from its side horizontally before angling upward in a ''V'' shape. Strewn around the hangar are dozens and dozens of Kraktol bodies, all of them unconscious. Remnants of his arrival aboard the Fleet Commander''s ship, these heavily armed commandos lay in clumps of two and three, unmoving.

    The Admiral pays them no heed.

    He strides up the interceptor''s rear entry ramp as it lowers, smiling to himself when he hears Megla mutter to Soren behind his back, "The Terran didn''t kill anyone but Orgon?"

    "If he did, it was likely an accident," Soren replies with a shrug.

    The Human and two crocodilians climb the interceptor''s ramp and immediately find themselves amidst its narrow, single hallway. Jos�� stoops to enter the craft so that he doesn''t smack his head against the eight-foot-high ceiling.

    "Bit cramped," Jos�� mutters.

    "No," Megla snaps. "You''re too damned big."

    The Terran Admiral ignores the anger in her voice. After all, he killed her Commander just minutes before. The pain is only now truly hitting her, making her rage flare up.

    He finishes entering the craft and walks up front, where he gingerly slides into the cramped pilot''s chair. Soren slides much more easily into the chair beside him, thanks to only standing six-feet tall. Given she and Megla are three-feet shorter than Jos��, they don''t have any problems fitting into the interceptor''s cabin.

    After a few moments of sweeping his gaze across the ship''s control systems, Jos�� hesitates. He frowns as he examines the numerous dials, knobs, and buttons strewn across the ship''s control panel.

    "Hmm."

    "Admiral?" Soren asks, not hesitating to address him as her new commanding officer. "Is there a problem?"

    Perhaps sensing something about Jos��''s eye movements, Megla snorts. "What''s the matter, softskin? Don''t know how to fly a clunker like this?"

    Jos�� glances behind himself at Megla as she stands in the doorway. "That''s right. This ship is... ancient. I find it hard to believe even a third era vessel would use such an outmoded control system. This looks more like a first or second era ship."

    Umi''s voice speaks from the ship''s audio projectors overhead. "Admiral. If you would like, I can fly this interceptor for you. I believe the Tactical Officer also possesses extensive flight experience on this type of craft."

    In response, Jos�� waves away the synthmind''s concerns. "No. I''ll do this myself."

    Soren nods and leans back in her seat, but Megla immediately berates Jos��. "Pah! You stubborn fool! Why would you waste time and effort trying to fly our shoddy vessel when you have others who can do it for you? Must you continually subject those around you to your unquenchable ego?"

    "Haha..." Jos�� laughs awkwardly. "It''s not that. However, as one of Ramma''s Chosen, I always follow her creeds. Among them is the tenet which states, ''a day spent without learning something new is a day wasted.'' Therefore, why shouldn''t I attempt to fly this vessel?"

    Before Megla can retort, Jos�� flicks his eyes toward the ceiling, only two inches above his head. There, he spots a narrow cubby with a datapad tucked inside. Jos�� snatches the pad from its holder and smiles as it boots up to reveal pre-flight checks and numerous operation instructions.

    "Excellent. This will do," Jos�� mutters.

    Officer Soren leans back to look over Jos��''s shoulder at the flight control-book. "Admiral. Do you need any assistance translating our written word?"

    "No," Admiral Rodriguez replies. "My brain possesses several bio-chips, including an advanced translation interface. Umi already downloaded your entire linguistic database earlier today."

    Soren glances at Megla meaningfully. "I see."

    Several minutes pass. Both Kraktol watch silently as Jos�� peruses the 300-page flight manual with surprising speed. He reads each page in fewer than three seconds, seemingly skimming it for any relevant information.

    Eventually, Megla leans against the cabin door and chuckles. "What foolishness. How can anyone learn to fly a vessel like this just by reading a book? You are wasting your time, softskin."

    "We''ve been over this," Jos�� retorts. "Learning new things is never a waste. Why should I rush to leave? Your fleet isn''t going anywhere and can''t attack me. I''ll take my time."

    Without another word, the Admiral continues flipping through the datapad''s contents, finishing it after less than a minute. Satisfied, he slides it back into its holder and turns his attention to the cockpit''s console.

    Beep. Beep. Flick. Beep.

    Hesitantly, Jos�� begins twisting various knobs and watching a dozen different readouts. He starts running through a pre-flight checklist, confirming the amount of Deuterium onboard for fuel, as well as the craft''s general situation.

    "All systems nominal on my side," Jos�� says. He glances at Soren. "Coolant injector status?"

    Soren checks a readout. "Coolant is at eighty percent capacity, Admiral."

    "Vacuum pressurization?"

    "One hundred percent efficiency, Admiral."

    "Landing gear?"

    Jos��''s copilot taps a button on her side and watches it for a moment. "Operating normally."

    "Preflight checklist complete," Jos�� replies. He taps several buttons to ignite the engines while also enabling the anti-gravity thrusters.

    After a moment, Jos�� nods. "Prepare for takeoff."

    "Retracting landing struts in five seconds, Admiral."

    "Releasing hangar lockdown chains now," Jose says.

    "Landing struts retracted, Admiral."

    Jos�� smiles. "Engaging boosters."

    A slight pulling sensation tugs at the ship''s occupants, especially Megla. She grasps the doorway firmly, not bothering to sit in one of the cargo-bay seats. When the ship begins moving forward, she doesn''t even twitch from the sudden momentum shift.

    "Clearing hangar bay oxygen-shield," Jos�� says. "Now entering the void. Takeoff successful."

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    Officer Soren glances at Jos�� with a look of admiration. "You really did learn how to fly this ship in only ten minutes, Admiral."

    "Of course," Jos�� says, his smile expanding. "I''m a Terran. I cook, clean, fly, build, repair, and fight. Specialization is for insects."

    "If only those skills compared to your bragging ability, you''d truly be unstoppable." Megla snaps.

    ...

    The ship travels the few kilometers to the Bloodbearer in under a minute. Thanks to the Dragon Breath''s docking bay being lined up with the Bloodbearer''s, it''s a straight shot between both ships, resulting in a quick and effortless flight for Jos�� and the Kraktol.

    Soon, they pass through the Bloodbearer''s oxygen shield. Megla''s eyes narrow as she gazes out the interceptor''s window and scans the Bloodbearer''s massive hangar bay.

    "Empty. Not a soul in sight."

    "All I have for crew are holograms," Jos�� says with a sigh. "Like I told Orgon, all the other members of my species are dead, as far as I know."

    Megla snorts. "What a pity. You''re the last killing machine left floating around in the galaxy."

    "That''s right," Jos�� mutters. "The very last one. Don''t shed any crocodile tears on my behalf."

    "Worry not, for I will not."

    The Terran and Kraktol fall silent as Jos�� sets the ship down the hangar floor with a noticeable thump. Megla nearly loses her balance from the impact and flashes a glare at Jos��.

    "Tch. So you do have some faults after all."

    Jos�� nods. "I''ve never been that good of a pilot. I''m a fighter first and foremost."

    The former First Officer pulls backward to allow the Terran Admiral to exit the cockpit. He squeezes past Megla, while Soren follows in his wake.

    With a loud hiss, the interceptor''s landing platform lowers to the ground below. Jos�� strides onto the hangar bay floor, his boots loudly clomping against the shiny exosteel and echoing into the distance. The eerie silence of the hangar makes the two Kraktol women shiver.

    "It''s like a graveyard," Megla mutters.

    "How did you come to possess such a massive craft all on your own?" Soren asks.

    Jos�� sighs. A distant look of sadness appears in his eyes. "Unwillingly. I''d give it up in a heartbeat to regain that which I''ve lost."

    Perhaps sensing the deep sense of loss in his words, both of the Kraktol decide not to press him further. They follow along obediently behind Jos�� as he strides across the hangar toward an unknown destination.

    "Umi. Release the Kraktol fleet. Wipe their memories as I previously instructed, and send them back home."

    The Admiral''s casual order lights a spark in Megla''s eyes. "What? Wipe their memories?! What would be the purpose for doing that? I don''t understand!"

    "I have my reasons," Jos�� replies. "I don''t want the galaxy to know of my existence just yet, so I prepared a quick memory-cleansing routine earlier, before I left my ship. It will erase all the specific knowledge of my identity and that of my ship, but my words will linger in the minds of all your former crew. They will only remember me as a terrifying figure shrouded in shadow, someone they must not anger at any cost. Only then will they follow my commands to leave the Kessu alone."

    Jos�� glances over his shoulder to direct a venomous look at Megla. "I have to protect the last twenty or so remaining Kessu. Thanks to your Commander, they''ve lost everyone they knew and loved. I truly hope you''re proud of yourself."

    Megla blinks in surprise. "Huh? We didn''t exterminate the Kessu. We couldn''t! Orgon immediately ceased the extermination operation to chase after that stealth vessel. Hardly anyone, be they Mallali or Rodak, possesses a vessel of such a caliber. If the Kraktol were to obtain such a highly advanced 14th Era stealth-craft, our power would increase by several magnitudes."

    The group of three slows to a stop as Jos�� turns around to eyeball Megla. "You didn''t slaughter all of the Kessu?"

    "Not for lack of trying," Megla snorts. "I tried to convince Orgon to leave half our fleet behind, but he always did have an eye for power. His greed outweighed his obedience to the Th��lvik."

    "Don''t you usually speak positively about Orgon?" Jos�� asks. "His corpse has barely begin to cool, and already you''ve begun speaking snidely behind his back."

    Megla crosses her arms. "I respected Orgon, but he had his flaws. Perhaps if he''d listened to me, then we would have exterminated the Kessu and never met you. He''d still be alive."

    Soren stares at Megla with a strange, distant look. "It seems Orgon''s death has had a profound effect on your psyche. You''ve never been one to criticize your superiors."

    "Oh, shut up!"

    Megla shakes her head out of irritation. She glares at Jos�� as if to say, ''let''s get a move on.''

    Jos�� shrugs. He resumes his course to head deeper into the hangar, while the two Kraktol fall into position behind him. As they walk, Megla and Soren both shoot admiring glances at the dozens upon dozens of parked interceptors, bombers, crew shuttles, and repair vehicles parked all across the Bloodbearer''s hangars. The majesty of 50th-era technology dazzles their eyes, making them feel as if they''ve stepped inside a time machine and traveled to the distant future.

    Every so often, Soren will fire off a question regarding this ship or that one, and each time, Jos�� humors her with a detailed, informative answer.

    Megla mostly keeps quiet. However, she does suck in a sharp breath now and again upon witnessing particularly majestic vehicles. "Goodness. That one looks like it could rip the Dragon''s Breath to shreds. And that one over there- I doubt our weapons could even scratch it. Compared to the Kessu stealth-craft, even the worst vehicle in this hangar would outmatch an entire fleet from the Core."

    Eventually, the Kessu''s stealth-craft, the Slipstream, appears up ahead. The Kraktol find themselves thinking that, perhaps, it isn''t even that incredible. Their expectations rise to the heavens after witnessing the Bloodbearer''s typical fighter complements.

    "Admiral. I have completed your orders. All of the Kraktol vessels have entered hyperspace and departed this sector. We are now alone."

    Umi''s voice speaks from overhead, making Jos�� pause before the Slipstream''s entry ramp.

    "Very good. Start collating a list of needed repairs for me. Prioritize them based on flight readiness. Start with the engines and work your way down the list."

    "Orders acknowledged, Admiral. I will begin at once."

    "Great."

    Jos�� aims his palm at the two Kraktol. "Stay here. I''ll be right back."

    Soren and Megla nod. They both walk over to a support beam and lean against it casually, opting to wait for Jos��''s return.

    The Terran Admiral strides up the Slipstream''s ramp. His heavy footsteps echo into the interior of the ship, summoning a frenzy of movement.

    "He''s back!"

    "The Great Precursor has returned! Quickly, Nyoor!"

    A pitter-patter of soft paws on steel greets Jos��''s ears as he enters the ship. Within seconds, more than a dozen excited-looking kitty cats come running out to see him, their eyes full of stars.

    "Greetings! We give greetings!"

    The Kessu stand and stare at Jos�� excitedly, while he leans forward to pet their heads. "Haha. Yes, it''s good to see you all, too. I''m back."

    Every Kessu Jos�� pets jumps around excitedly afterward, thrilled by his oddly-satisfying touch. They chatter quietly amongst each other and wait while Elder Nyoor and his wife, Baaru, walk toward Jos�� with a gleam in their eye.

    "It seems you made it back safely, oh, great Precursor!" Nyoor trills. "Prraw! How glad I am to see you alive and well! Did your mission prove successful?"

    "Haha... in more ways than one," Jos�� replies, trying to hide his awkwardness. "I, ah, killed the Kraktol commander for his crimes... and I even made a few new friends!"

    Elder Nyoor cocks his head. "Eh? New friends? What do you mean?"

    Jos�� gestures behind himself, out the entry-way, toward the hangar outside the Slipstream. There, two crocodilian figures lean against one of the Bloodbearer''s support beams, as casually as if they were waiting for a bus.

    "Who are they?" Elder Nyoor asks. "I do not recognize them."

    "Those two are, um... Soren and Megla," Jos�� hesitantly explains. "They''re my two newest crew members. Also, they''re both... Kraktol!"

    Elder Nyoor''s expression shifts.

    A look of fear appears on his face, only to shift into anger.

    "Kraktol?! They are the ones who killed my people! Why would you bring two of those monsters here?!"

    Matriarch Baaru''s eyes light up. "Wait, Nyoor. Perhaps the great Precursor has brought them here so that we may beat and punish them ourselves! We can release our anger upon those who butchered our people!"

    Nyoor''s eyes ignite with fire. "Yes, my dear. You are right! That must be-"

    "No, no," Jos�� says, cutting off that line of thought. "Please, hold your anger for a moment."

    The Terran drops to one knee so he can better reach Elder Nyoor''s level.

    "I have good news, Patriarch. The Kessu were not all slaughtered. Many still remain on your homeworld! The Kraktol used all of their fleets to chase after you, thus sparing your world from destruction."

    Nyoor nearly jumps out of his fur. "Prraw! Is that true?! Do you mean that we are not the last Kessu?"

    Jos�� smiles.

    "That''s right. There are more of your people left. We will have to go back to them once I repair my ship."

    Overcome with relief, Nyoor toddles forward and hugs Jos��''s knee.

    "...Thank you, great Precursor! Thank you! We are forever in your debt!"

    "Don''t... don''t mention it..." Jos�� says, lowering his eyes. "I didn''t have anything to do with it."

    "No, you did," Baaru says, chiding the Terran. "Were it not for you, the Kraktol may have eventually caught us. Once they did, they would have returned to our world to wipe out the rest of our species. The Wind Mother sent you to us as a divine messenger of Her will! You are truly our blessed savior!"

    Jos�� blushes. "You''re too kind. Really. Too kind."

    As the Kessu fawn over him and thank Jos�� for his deeds, the human sighs deeply within his bones.

    Is this, perhaps, the reason I''ve awakened after all this time? Is this my new role in the galaxy? Did Ramma send me here to save the less fortunate from those who would trample upon them?

    The Admiral smiles.

    At the least, I can enjoy this one little thing. It''s all I have left, after all.

 Chapter 8: The Bloodbearers Condition (Arc 2: Bloodbearer Repair)

    After petting each of the Kessu and allaying their fears, Jos�� begins walking down the ramp toward his two newest Kraktol allies, both of whom send waves of fear spiking within the hearts of Elder Nyoor and his family.

    "Oh, great Precursor..." Nyoor whimpers. "Must we face these hideous, scaled fiends? Look at their giant mouths! They could devour us in one bite!"

    "We''re all going to be good friends," Jos�� says, his expression impassive. He leads the Kessu forward at a slow, measured pace. "The yellow-scaled one is Soren. She''s quite pleasant. The red-scaled one is Megla. I may have to slap some manners into her if she bares her teeth."

    Nyoor nods dumbly. "Soren, good. Megla, bad. I... I understand..."

    "We will see if you do," Jos�� says with a chuckle.

    As Jos�� reaches the bottom of the ramp, Umi speaks into his brain, instead of using the overhead speaker system.

    [Admiral. I have finished collating the operations you requested. I now have all of the essential data compiled regarding the level of technical capabilities from all known species around the Milky Way, including not only the Kraktol, but the Mallali as well.]

    Jos��''s brain kicks into high gear, conversing with Umi in the blink of an eye. [Now isn''t the best time. I''m about to introduce the Kraktol and Kessu. Also, why are you communicating via brainwaves?]

    [Admiral, given the nature of my breaching the Kraktol''s data reserves, I calculated with a 13% degree of uncertainty that speaking of such matters might anger your newest recruits. Given the sensitive nature of this information, I determined a more private avenue of communication was preferable.]

    The Admiral nods imperceptibly. [I see. Keep that information on file. I''ll get back to you in a bit.]

    [Orders acknowledged, Admiral.]

    Umi falls silent right as Jos�� strolls up to the Kraktol, both of whom continue to lean against one of the hangar''s many support beams. "Soren. Megla. These are the Kessu. I hope you''ll put aside your differences and try to greet them with some level of understanding."

    The Terran bites off several key words while looking directly at Megla. She doesn''t miss his intentions.

    "Hmph. Fine," Megla groans. "I''ve nothing to be afraid of, anyway. These ugly little furballs aren''t a threat to me."

    The red-scaled Kraktol''s words reach the Kessu, making them flatten their ears out of worry. Her indifference to their feelings, their suffering, only makes the void in their hearts deepen.

    "Fiendish Rodak!" Elder Nyoor hisses. He stays tucked behind the Terran''s leg, fearful of drawing too close to the six-foot reptiles, but still, Jos��''s presence emboldens the Kessu''s patriarch. "Y-you monsters killed my people! Haven''t you anything to say for yourselves?"

    "I killed nobody," Megla snaps. "I only gave the order. As far as I''m concerned, you ugly little runts are still my sworn blood-enemy."

    Megla glances at Jos�� for a split second before returning her gaze to the Kessu.

    "Of course, I will keep my distance from you so long as you stay away from me. The galaxy knows your kind are riddled with mites and lice!"

    Nyoor''s grand-daughter, Lele, strides forward. "We are not! You stink like mud, granny!"

    The bold words of the white-haired, Persian Kessu kitten immediately agitates Megla. She pulls away from the pillar and leers toward the child, a look of anger in her eyes. "Hey! Who taught you manners, brat?! I''ll have you know I bathe in crystal-water thrice a day! I most certainly do not smell like mud! And another thing-"

    Before she can continue, Jos�� frowns and bonks her on the head with the side of his palm. "Megla. Are you really about to get into an argument with a kitten?"

    Megla lifts her head and glowers at Jos��. "Didn''t you hear this little claw-brain? She called me old! I ought to bend her over my knee and paddle her until her eyes turn red!"

    "Enough."

    Jos��''s words contain a hint of anger and annoyance.

    "I don''t have time to deal with your squabbling. All of you, stay quiet and listen carefully."

    At the Terran''s words, Megla pulls back and ignores the little Kessu girl, but not before shooting her a nasty glare.

    "Go on."

    Admiral Rodriguez clears his throat.

    "Ahem. I''ve sent your fleet scurrying back to the Th��lvik. With its crew''s memories wiped and all scanning data related to my vessel gone, it should take them some time to figure out how terrifying the Bloodbearer is. Under ordinary circumstances, I''d laugh if a fleet of third or tenth era warships tried to threaten me. At the moment, that is not the case."

    Soren leans forward. "Oh? What do you mean, Admiral?"

    Already, the red-scaled Kraktol woman appears to have adopted Jos�� wholeheartedly as her commander. She doesn''t even bat an eye at addressing him with a respectful tone, unlike Megla.

    "Umi," Jos�� says. "Explain to everyone just how bad of a condition our ship is in."

    "Affirmative, Admiral Rodriguez. At this moment, 87.3% of the Bloodbearer''s critical systems are inert. Life support is functioning at 7% optimum efficiency. 100% of all exterior weapons are offline. Engines are offline. 79% of internal components are functioning at or below 10% efficiency. The remainder are functioning only at 30% efficiency or lower. My memory banks have suffered a 45.9% loss of critical data stores, and a 91.3% loss of nonessential data stores."

    A warped expression passes over Megla''s face as she realizes the Bloodbearer had zero functional weapons, yet it still managed to easily manhandle her fleet. She keeps her mouth shut, though, and says nothing.

    The Admiral speaks. "Simply put, this ship is absolutely worthless. Only three of the craft in this hangar function at all, and they''re probably not even void-worthy. 100,000,000 years is an absurd amount of time, and it seems the Bloodbearer spent the vast majority of its life trapped inside a damned plasma storm. We''re lucky its reactor didn''t detonate in a thermonuclear ball of fire and steel."

    With a shake of his head, Jos�� continues. "Our number one priority is to get the triple-induction drive back online. Once we enter folded space, we''ll have plenty of time to get the internal systems running."

    Megla and Soren both look at one another. Soren returns her gaze to Jos��, a look of confusion on her face. "Folded space?"

    "You don''t know what that is?" Jos�� asks. "Scientists discovered folded space during the 8th or 9th era. It became a prolific means of travel by the 12th era, and ubiquitous by the 20th."

    "I''ve not heard of it either," Megla says with a shrug. "Mind explaining?"

    "Later," Jos�� replies. "It seems you two will need some education if you''re going to be on my crew. I can''t expect the Kessu to understand advanced warp theories, but if I have you, it will make my workload lighter."

    Soren holds her hands up helplessly. "I am always willing to learn, but I am a better programming specialist than a technician. My knowledge of theoretical physics is quite limited."

    "I''m probably better than Soren at light repair-work," Megla offers, "but I''m no expert. Commander Orgon always told me I was well-rounded, and that''s why he made me his First Officer."

    "Noted," Jos�� says. He glances at the Kessu and smiles. "You should all come with me. I''ll help you get comfortable during your stay."

    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    "Oh, yes indeed, great Precursor!" Elder Nyoor meows. "You''ve done so much for us already. We thank you from the bottom of our hearts!"

    Jos�� rubs Nyoor''s head affectionately, no longer bothering with using ''greetings'' as an excuse. He turns and starts walking toward the hangar''s lower exit doors, then shoots a glance over his shoulder at Megla and Soren. "You two, come along as well, please. I''ll set you both up with comfortable rooms."

    "We''re here at your convenience," Megla replies, curtly.

    .......................................

    Several minutes later, Jos�� walks at a much slower pace than usual, allowing the short-legged Kessu to keep up with him. Nyoor and Baaru follow along, chattering quietly with the youngest kittens and a few of the adult Kessu. Soren and Megla flank Jos�� on his right and left, respectively.

    "...and over there, those are the mess halls," Jos�� says, indicating a pair of double doors leading into a sizable room. "Unfortunately, we haven''t any biomatter in storage. We''ll have to live off whatever we can scrounge up for the immediate future, and none of the replicators appear to be in working order."

    Jos�� glances at Megla. "Speaking of which, what do Kraktol eat? Meat?"

    Megla smirks. "Only the finest. Don''t worry, though. We know how to survive off plants if absolutely necessary. It isn''t preferable, though."

    "Mmm. I see."

    The Admiral''s eyes casually glance around for a moment, before he asks a seemingly random question. "Perchance, could you explain to me the general level of Mallali and Radok technology in this modern era? What about the Buzor and Avaru?"

    Not expecting Jos��''s random inquiry, Megla frowns and glances at Soren. Soren nods, as if answering an unspoken request.

    "Admiral," Soren says, "the Mallali are currently the most powerful primary branch of all the species in the Milky Way. They control the Core, and thus, their power greatly exceeds that of the Kraktol, but only for now."

    "For now?" Jos�� echoes. "Is something going to change?"

    Rather than directly answer his question, Soren continues. "The Mallali typically possess fleets of warships in the range of second to eighteenth era technology. There are several outliers, including the Dakkit Emperor''s personal flagship, a thirtieth-era battlecruiser with more firepower than anything else I''ve heard of, but such a mighty vessel is a rarity, even among the Mallali."

    The yellow-scaled Kraktol continues. "The reason I imply this balance may not persist forever is due to the Th��lvik''s recent gains involving Rylon''s Precursor Shipyard. Our leader obtained a fully complete, entirely functional, automated ship manufacturing facility far beyond anything the Mallali possess. The Mallali may own incredible fleets of deadly warships, but every time one of their ships falls in battle, they''ve no way to build new ones, nor to repair the damaged ones."

    A look of pride appears on Megla''s face. "Hah! That''s right. Wretched Mallali. They use their existing power to enforce a terrible regime upon all the non-Mallali within the galaxy, but the more time that passes, the more power the Th��lvik will obtain. Eventually, even if we possess only ''inferior'' third-era technology, we will overwhelm the Mallali with our numbers."

    Admiral Rodriguez nods, reserving judgment for later. He leads the Kessu and Kraktol deeper into the ship, toward the high-level crew quarters some distance from the Bridge. "I see. Are there truly no other species who possess functional shipyards? Why can''t the Mallali repair damaged vessels? Why not build their own shipyards?"

    Megla laughs awkwardly. "Hah... we don''t fully understand Precursor technology! There are many well-known scientists and innovators who have made names for themselves merely deciphering recovered Terran texts, rebuilding Terran artifacts, and generally doing anything they can to comprehend the lost Terran ways. Six thousand years have passed since the Th��lvik obtained the Rylon Shipyard, and even within all that time, we have yet to fully understand its intricacies. Terran technology is far too incredible for us to fully decipher."

    Soren nods, a look of shame on her face. "I took fourteen years of Terran Studies under the great archaeologist, Morkus Hornbelt. He was one of the few legendary Kraktol with hundreds of years of Precursor knowledge locked inside his mind, and I barely understood a fraction of it. There was simply too much to wrap my head around."

    Curious, Megla glances at Jos��. "How were your people able to comprehend the countless eons of technical improvement inherent in each starship, while also innovating further?"

    The Admiral laughs. "Haha. Biochips. Most Terrans had a memory-enhancing biochip implanted at birth. Downloading the knowledge of our history was standard. After that, we learned more specialized information until all Terrans met the prerequisites needed to succeed on their chosen career paths."

    Soren nods. "Biochips. Yes, many scientists have recovered such devices, but they were unable to adapt them to Mallali or Rodak physiology, nor the other species. Plenty of ongoing research involves comprehending such incredible Precursor artifacts, but to this day, not a single being has ever successfully adapted a biochip to their body."

    "Not that we know of, at least," Megla says, correcting Soren. "I doubt the Mallali higher-ups would ever admit if they''d accomplished such a feat. They would hoard the knowledge for themselves, just as they do everything else."

    "Indeed," Soren affirms with a sad nod.

    Jos�� falls silent. He communicates with Umi mentally.

    [Umi. You heard everything our Kraktol guests said. How do their words match up with your analysis?]

    Umi beeps in response. [Admiral Rodriguez. The statements made by the Kraktol are 98.7% accurate, with a slight deviation easily explained by missing information. In fact there are more than five known vessels the Mallali control which are close to thirtieth-era technology.]

    [Five instead of one? Sounds like Megla and Soren merely overlooked that information.]

    Satisfied, Jos��''s smile brightens considerably. He looks at the two Kraktol females as they chat with one another about how angry the Th��lvik will be, oblivious to his gaze. The realization that they didn''t lie to him makes him feel just a bit better about their prospects as his crew-mates.

    ...

    Several minutes later, after traveling for nearly two kilometers, the party of twenty-plus creatures arrives at the crew quarters-area. Dozens of doors appear along the corridor''s left and right sides, revealing entrances to rooms numbered one through one hundred.

    "This area is for senior officers only," Jos�� says. "As a former Private, I''ve never slept here. I was too low of a rank to enter these rooms. Let''s have a look and see what''s inside."

    At the revelation of his previous military rank, Jos�� once again surprises the Kraktol, making them both wonder if he''s joking. They say nothing, though, and merely follow along obediently.

    Jose walks up to Room 1, the Admiral''s room. However, the door doesn''t open, nor does the holo-display above its opening bleep with recognition.

    "Umi? Is something wrong with the Admiral''s room?"

    Jos�� voices his concern to the ship''s synthmind, who replies a moment later.

    "Affirmative. The crew quarters have suffered serious degradation as a result of the passage of time. You will need to force the doors open to enter."

    "Great. Just what I wanted to hear."

    With a massive eye-roll, Jos�� steps forward and pauses for a moment. His dermal armor activates, covering his body in a layer of exosteel. Megla and Soren take a step back, reflexively, as fearful memories appear in their minds, while the Kessu stare at Jos�� with confusion.

    "Why is the Precursor covered in shiny metal?" Lele asks her grandfather.

    "I don''t know." Nyoor says. The four-foot tall Kessu rests his paws on her shoulders protectively.

    The Admiral grabs hold of the door. His muscles bulge as he digs his fingers into the ultra-hard metal and grunts fiercely. "Hrrrrrrgggh!!!"

    A terrible screeching sound, like a chainsaw grinding against steel, makes everyone but Jos�� flinch and jump back while covering their ears. The door shudders violently as several eons of rust and dust crackle and tear from its many joints. Unlike the hangar doors, which remained relatively maintained thanks to the functioning Filth Expunger Units, the crew quarters received no such treatment.

    Suddenly, the door loses its last bit of resistance. It flies open and slides into its cubby to the right, smashing against its inner sidewall with a violent slam!

    Jos�� stumbles forward, his grip gone, and trips over his own feet. "Ugh!"

    He flops against the ground, landing amidst a half-inch-thick layer of dust which sprays in every direction. The horrifically filthy room explodes into a gag-inducing cloud of heaven-knows-what, making all of the Kessu and Kraktol retreat dozens of steps to avoid enraging the dust devils.

    "Kah! Admiral, are you okay?" Megla calls out, gasping for breath.

    Jos�� sneezes. "Wah-choo! Ptuh! Fine, but- pah! My eyes are watering, kah-kah!"

    The Admiral stumbles out of the room. He rubs his metal covered eyes to try and get the dust out of them, only to aggravate the situation further thanks to the copious amount of filth caked onto his hands from when they touched the floor.

    "Galaxies! I didn''t think it would be this bad! Umi, help me out here!"

    Several seconds pass. Umi replies with a friendly beep. "Orders acknowledged, Admiral. Would you like for me to sing you a song?"

    "A song?! No! Send over a cleaning bot! Help me clean this crap off my body!"

    Clearly agitated, Jos�� yells angrily at Umi, who merely beeps in reply.

    "Orders acknowledged. There is a cleaning station within the room you''ve just opened. I estimate it is 75% functional. Please allow it twenty-six seconds to clear its passageways before use."

    "Great! Thanks..."

    Jos�� drags himself back to the Admiral''s bathroom, gingerly stepping through the dust so as to not kick up a cloud of filth. He walks into the bathroom, presses a button, and activates the sonic shower...

    Only for it to spew out an incalculable amount of dust from the showerhead above, enraging the Admiral further.

    "Argh! Umi!"

    "Twenty-one seconds remain. Please be patient, Admiral. The sonic drain-lines are filled with debris. It will take a few more moments to clear them out."

    Admiral Rodriguez falls silent, too miserable to complain further. His metal-covered skin makes him look like a sad robot as he waits for the sonic shower to stop spewing dirt. Eventually, it does, and he steps inside, allowing its cleansing sound-waves to pummel his body.

    A minute later, Jos�� disengages the dermal armor protecting him, allowing the sonic shower to finally cleanse his body and strip the grime off his skin. He moans audibly as his annoyance melts away. "Ahhhh... I should''ve done this sooner."

    "Admiral?" Soren calls from outside. "Are you alright in there?"

    "Yup!" Jos�� says, smiling as he directs the purifying sonic-waves around the shower and out into the Admiral''s room. Like magic, the silent sonic-blasts obliterate the debris everywhere they hit, clearing out the entirety of the bathroom and some of the area just outside the bathroom door. "I''ll be out in a minute!"

    The Kraktol and the Kessu fall silent. As they wait for Jos�� to clean himself, they suddenly become more conscious of their proximity to one another, making Megla eyeball them with disgust, while the Kessu look at her with visible anger.

    "...lice-riddled scum."

    "Swamp-bather!" Lele replies.

    Thanks to his hearing implants, Jos�� sighs.

    "...I wonder if they''ll ever become friends?"

 Chapter 9: Terran Power Levels

    For the hundredth time, a violent screeching of rusted metal resounds throughout the crew-quarters area. Jos�� tears a door open with brute strength and gasps for breath as another cloud of dust explodes in his face. After stumbling backward, the Admiral disengages his Dermal Armor and coughs violently.

    "Kaff! Kaff! By the Divine Emperor... I''ve finally finished opening all these damned doors."

    He flicks his eyes toward the twenty or so Kessu, all of whom hold small suction-cup like devices in their paws. They nod when they meet his gaze and quickly trot over to the opened room, their foot-pads lightly pitter-pattering against the ground. The devices held in their paws, intended for cleaning, begin releasing sonic waves that destroy all the accumulated dust and rust inside the room.

    Admiral Jos�� glances backward at one of the rooms he recently opened, nodding to himself as he scrutinizes its spotless interior.

    "Not bad. Alright, you Kessu should keep cleaning. Umi will lead you to the troublesome areas. We barely have any working Filth Expunger Units, so I''ll be counting on you to eliminate all of this filth."

    Patriarch Nyoor walks over to Jos�� and bows solemnly. "Don''t you worry, Great Precursor! We might not be familiar with all this fancy metal-magic, but I''m confident we can clean like crazy! Hehe. We won''t be a burden, and we''ll earn our keep!"

    "Yes, I''m sure you will," Jos�� says with a faint smile. He looks to the side at Megla and Soren, both of whom stand idly and watch as the Kessu run around blasting away the ship''s grime.

    "These cleaning devices are quite unique," Soren muses. "I''ve not seen anything like them before. Even in the Core, the Mallali don''t possess anything offering similar utility."

    Megla rolls her eyes. "Big deal. You don''t have to be impressed by every little piece of Terran technology."

    "Weren''t you squealing with glee earlier when the Admiral showed you the Officer''s weapon locker?"

    The red-scaled Kraktol scowls. "Oh, shut up. That was different. Weapons are important!"

    "Yes," Soren says, nodding her head affirmatively. "But so are this ship''s other efficiencies. Cleaning with those ''Filth-Erasers'' requires far less time and effort, opening up manpower for more important operations. Plus, don''t you think they''re oddly satisfying to watch?"

    Megla scoffs. "Oddly satisfying. Pah! You are still a hatchling at heart, easily amused by trinkets and toys."

    The two Kraktol women bicker with one another, but their words contain little or no animosity. Rather, it appears more to Jos�� as if they''ve been friends for so long that a little ribbing wouldn''t affect their relationship in the slightest.

    With a sigh in his heart, Jos�� walks toward them. "Now that I''ve opened up our future quarters, I want you two to come with me. The Kessu won''t be any use to me as starship mechanics, and we''ve a lot of repairs to make."

    Megla and Soren both turn to meet Jos��.

    "That''s fine," Megla says, "but where should we start? A ship of this size must possess highly advanced engines with cleaning and maintenance needs far beyond what the three of us can provide. It will take us years to repair the Bloodbearer to full working order."

    "We don''t need 100% operational capacity," Jos�� says with a shrug. "We only need to get this ship to a point where we can engage the triple-induction drive. After that, we''ll have plenty of time to repair the lower-priority systems, the weapons, and a few of the Bloodbearer''s support craft."

    Soren crosses her arms. "Admiral. Forgive me, but I asked you before about this ''triple induction drive,'' yet you did not explain. Can you do so now?"

    Jos�� hesitates.

    "...Hm. I suppose so. Come with me. It will be easier to show than to tell."

    With a motion of his hands, Jos�� gestures toward the Kraktol women and they fall into position with Megla on his right and Soren on his left.

    They leave the crew quarters behind and head toward the engines at the rear of the ship, a several-mile walk.

    Along the way, Jos�� points out various support facilities, including the bathrooms, the crew quarters for people of different statuses, and so on. When Jos�� arrives at the middle of the Bloodbearer, he pauses before a large, sliding-glass door with the words ''Medical Bay 003'' etched into them.

    As if on cue, Umi''s voice speaks from overhead. "Admiral. Your body is still far from its peak condition. I advise visiting the Medical Bay for a checkup."

    Jos�� sighs. "...Fine. I knew you''d say that. This is a good chance for these ladies, too. Let''s ensure nobody here is carrying any diseases."

    Megla frowns. "Diseases?! The only ones you should worry about are from those flea-riddled little-"

    "Calm yourself," Jos�� says with a sigh, as he holds up his palm. "You''re going to be crewmates with the Kessu for a very long time. Please try to get along with them."

    As Jos�� walks toward the medical bay and its door slides open, Megla narrows her eyes. "You took me here by force. Maybe I''ll try to break away and backstab you when the right time comes. I think that, perhaps, I won''t be here for long at all, Terran."

    Jos�� shrugs, eerily confident in his assessment. "Yeah, maybe. We''ll see."

    ...

    Inside the medical bay''s two-thousand square-foot workspace, dozens of monitors, now cracked and broken from eons of disrepair, hang lifelessly from the walls. Countless rows of dusty medical cabinets sit off to the side, their contents long-since rotted away. Medical beds line the walls every few feet, taking up the majority of the space inside the small facility.

    The Admiral lumbers toward the rear of the medical bay, where he gestures at a four-foot in diameter circular metal platform on the floor. Its plain appearance gives no indication as to its function.

    "Soren. You first. Step on the Evaluator for me, please."

    The red-scaled Kraktol shoots a questioning glance at Jos��. "Admiral?"

    "We Terrans used devices like these regularly to analyze our bodies. Tuck your tail in and lower your snout so nothing sticks outside of the Evaluator''s radius."

    Megla''s glance turns suspicious. "This device... is it dangerous?"

    "No."

    Jos��''s voice gives no indication to his emotions as he wears a neutral expression on his face.

    With a silent nod, Soren steps onto the metal platform, wraps her tail around her waist, and lowers her long, crocodile-snout so it doesn''t stick out of the Evaluator''s radius.

    The Admiral walks over to a display nearby and taps it. Nothing happens, indicating that much like all the others in the room, it broke down at some point in the past.

    "Umi," Jos�� says, "I''ll have to rely on you here. Is this Evaluator still capable of running full-body physicals?"

    The Synthmind replies immediately. "Affirmative, Admiral Rodriguez. I will engage its sensors and relay their results verbally."

    "Good."

    Jos�� takes a step back and stares at Soren with the same vague, expressionless gaze as always. After a few seconds of seemingly nothing happening, Umi beeps overhead.

    "Analysis complete. Physical condition: 97%. Minor damage to cerebral cortex detected. Hypothesis: Blunt force damage caused by physical combat."

    Soren raises her head and nods. "All Kraktol must learn the Th��lvik''s combat methods before we can serve aboard one of her warships. Everyone suffers a little brain damage."

    Admiral Rodriguez cracks a faint smile. "Don''t worry. We can fix all sorts of cellular and nervous system injuries, presuming the tools haven''t fallen into disrepair."

    Overhead, Umi continues. "Primary sensory report. Visual rating: 0.75. Olfactory rating: 0.8. Auditory rating: 1.1. Gustation rating: 0.3. Somatosensory rating: 1.7. Vestibular rating: 2.4. Proprioceptive rating: 1.0."

    The Admiral gestures to Soren, asking her to step off the platform. When she does, she looks at him with curious eyes. "Admiral, what do all those numbers mean?"

    "Each one is a generic measurement of your physical abilities in relation to a Terran''s from my era," Jos�� replies. "An average Terran would score a 1.0 in every metric. Numbers above 1.0 are positive, while numbers below are negative. If your vision is rated at 2.0, you should be able to see the world with twice the clarity of an average Terran, just as an example."

    Jos�� continues. "Your vestibular rating is 2.4, which is quite excellent, especially given your lack of bioimplants. Presumably, you must have an excellent sense of balance."

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Soren shrugs. "I am not a particularly athletic Kraktol. Some might even call me lazy."

    "Hah!" Megla laughs. "You, lazy? You''re one of the hardest workers I know. Don''t downplay your capabilities."

    With a smile, Jos�� says, "She''s right. I''m sure your tail helps aid you with the vestibular metric. We Terrans never had any such body part, though some extremists did attach bionic ones for religious reasons. Tails are excellent for climbing, swimming, and many other physical activities."

    After Jos�� pats Soren''s shoulder, he raises his eyes to the ceiling. "Umi, what are Soren''s physical parameters?"

    The synthmind beeps in response. "Strength: 7.5. Grip: 5.4. Agility: 2.3. Memory: 12.3. Comprehension: 9.4. Endurance: 7.3. Stamina: 4.3."

    This time, Megla is the one to lick the sides of her snout in surprise. "Wow, not bad! You got a 12.3 in Memory! I always knew you were smart. You''re twelve times smarter than a Terran, hehehe!"

    Jos�� rests his hand on Megla''s shoulder. "Memory and comprehension aren''t the same thing as wisdom, Megla. There are many different types of intelligence. Now, you go next."

    The Dragon''s Breath''s former First Officer all but leaps for joy. The thought of finding out exactly how strong she is makes her zip over to the Evaluator without delay.

    "Ooh, this is exciting! I wonder how high I''ll score!"

    After a reminder from Jos��, Megla tucks in her snout and tail, shivering with anticipation as she awaits the results.

    "Analysis complete. Physical condition: 85%. Multiple lingering injuries detected in the chest and limbs. Rehealed broken bones located. Hypothesis: Severe injuries from many years prior that have mostly healed since they were sustained."

    Megla rolls her eyes. "Pah! Old news. I lost in a duel against Commander Orgon. After I nearly beat him, he chose me as his First Officer. A few broken bones were worth the promotion."

    Umi continues. "Primary sensory report. Visual rating: 0.9. Olfactory rating: 0.95. Auditory rating: 1.1. Gustation rating: 0.25. Somatosensory rating: 3.7. Vestibular rating: 1.1. Proprioceptive rating: 1.4."

    "Bit of a mixed bag," Jos�� remarks. "It seems you''re extremely adept when it comes to your sense of touch. You and Soren both come up lacking when it comes to your eyes and ears, but I suppose that''s to be expected."

    With another beep, Umi finishes her report. "Strength: 9.9. Grip: 7.5. Agility: 14.0. Memory: 2.4. Comprehension: 3.9. Endurance: 8.3. Stamina: 8.5."

    Megla steps off the Evaluator with a big croco-grin on her face. "Hehehe! I''m quite tough, eh? My strength is greater than ten of your Terran units! Not bad!"

    Jos�� nods. "Your agility is even more astounding. What is your fastest recorded running speed?"

    Megla shrugs. "Perhaps 95 kilometers per hour? It''s been several years since I tested."

    "Fast, indeed..." Jos�� mutters.

    After a few moments of contemplation, Jos�� walks to the Evaluator and steps on top of it. He falls silent and allows Umi to complete her full-body scan. While he does, Megla nudges Soren''s ribs with a look of eagerness. "What do you think the Terran''s numbers will be?"

    Soren''s expression becomes one of disinterest. "High. Very, very high."

    After Umi beeps, she begins speaking. "Analysis complete. Physical condition: 45%. Severe trauma located all across the Admiral''s body. Multiple organ failures observed. Bodily functions running at sub-optimal levels. Speed reduced by 75%. Physical strength reduced by 90%. Severe blood clots detected. Immediate surgery recommended."

    The room falls silent as both Kraktol look at Jos�� in shock.

    The Admiral is heavily injured? Soren thinks. He defeated Commander Orgon with ease, yet he hasn''t said anything about his pain. Even when he had his heart ripped out, the Admiral barely blinked!

    Megla, too, stares at Jos�� with surprise. A ninety percent reduction in strength? Isn''t that somewhat absurd? How could the Terran defeat Commander Orgon with such ease when his body is supposedly this weak?

    Umi continues. "Primary sensory report. Visual rating: 21.9. Olfactory rating: 19.1. Auditory rating: 40.1. Gustation rating: 12.8. Somatosensory rating: 41.5. Vestibular rating: 31.3. Proprioceptive rating: 24.4. Warning: These numbers are well below expected parameters due to bodily injuries. According to ship regulations, Admiral Rodriguez must immediately submit to a Level 4 Surgery."

    Jos�� waves his hands flippantly. "I know. Continue."

    The look of boredom on the Admiral''s face contrasts with the look of terror on Megla''s. What are these absurd numbers?! How could he possess such ridiculous eyesight? Can the Admiral see through walls or something?! And they only represent his current condition, not his peak abilities! How unbelievable! This Terran is a freaking monster!

    Another beep signifies Umi''s final analysis. "Strength: 34.4. Grip: 70.4. Agility: 8.4. Memory: 185.5. Comprehension: 212.7. Endurance: 26.0. Stamina: 12.7."

    Following the synthmind''s analysis, the room falls silent. Megla stares at Jos�� as if she''s encountered a demon. The look in her eyes hovers between terror and blind admiration.

    So... so strong! What a powerhouse! Now this is how a male should be!

    Jos�� steps off the Evaluator and smiles politely at Megla. "You don''t need to feel envy. My strength comes from hundreds of years of implants and surgeries, putting me near the top of the old Terran society. Given time, I can bring you and Soren both to my level, but only provided I learn how to adapt our Terran implants to your biology. Better yet, your starting point is, for the most part, well above the average Terran''s. You could become both stronger and smarter than me, in due time."

    Megla clasps her claws together in excitement. "Really?! That''s incredible! You''re incredible, mister Terran! I knew you were strong, but this is far beyond anything I imagined! I bet Orgon''s scans wouldn''t even touch your knees!"

    As Megla babbles excitedly, Soren shoots her sister a knowing look.

    Finally, you understand why I brought you here. You simpleminded scale-brain.

    Soren doesn''t give voice to her thoughts. She stays quiet while Megla follows Jos�� around like an excited puppy, stars dancing in her eyes. "If I become as powerful as you, I could become the biggest, strongest Kraktol in the galaxy! I wouldn''t have to bow or scrape at anyone''s knees ever again! I could make myself the new Th��lvik, take control of our armies, and reduce those filthy Mallali to-"

    "Stop."

    Admiral Rodriguez lifts his finger, silencing Megla mid-speech. She starts to open her mouth, only to close it once she sees an odd look in his eyes.

    "My crew will not be a bunch of violent, pillaging bandits," Jos�� growls. "We are protectors. We are saviors. Our foremost goal must always be to eliminate conflict with the least amount of bloodshed necessary, not escalate by using superior force. Do you understand?"

    His intimidating aura makes Megla take a step back.

    "I... I don''t!" Megla says, her excitement from before disappearing in an instant. Annoyance and anger appear in her eyes. "What''s the use of great strength if not to use it for yourself?! You defeated Orgon, you damned hypocrite! You even killed him!"

    "I did so out of necessity," the Admiral replies. "Orgon was directly responsible for the deaths of thousands of Kessu. I did not kill him to enrich myself, nor to satisfy some personal goal. Instead, I upheld justice for the dead with the smallest number of casualties and the maximum amount of persuasive force. One life traded for the safety and respect of a hundred thousand others. Had I slaughtered the rest of your former crew and then gone on to take their ships for myself, you might have a point, but I didn''t, so you don''t."

    "That was only because our ships weren''t worth anything to you," Megla argues. "It''s clear from this mighty powerhouse of a vessel that you care a lot about technology! If our ships had met your needs, you''d have stripped them for scrap and taken whatever could have boosted your power. Don''t pretend otherwise!"

    Jos�� evenly meets Megla''s gaze.

    "If that''s what you think, then go. Get on that interceptor we rode here and leave. But if you''re honest with yourself, you''ll stop blaming me for Orgon''s failures. It''s his fault you''re here."

    Megla doesn''t reply. She merely stares into Jos��''s eyes for a minute before lowering her head and walking away.

    The Medbay''s doors slide open and shut. After Megla leaves, Jos�� glances at Soren. "Thoughts?"

    Soren sighs. "Megla is headstrong. Give her time to adjust. She may protest and try to buck your authority, but I believe she''ll forget about Orgon in due time. If you hadn''t killed him, she''d never have agreed to come along with me."

    "She''s loyal," Jos�� says, smiling. "That''s an admirable trait. I won''t resent her for standing up for her friends. In due time, I hope to bring her around to my way of thinking."

    The Admiral clears his throat. "Now, let''s put all of this behind us for a while. I need to activate Umi''s medical subroutines. Mind giving me a hand?"

    "Of course. You are my Admiral, after all," Soren says, gifting Jos�� with a rare smile. "Just tell me what to do. I am not familiar with your ship''s technology."

    "You have a pretty good memory and comprehension ability," Jos�� remarks, turning around to poke through a nearby tool cabinet. "I think you''ll quickly learn how things work around here."

    The Admiral rifles through the cabinet and pulls out a half-dozen odd-looking pen-shaped tools and implements. "To start, we need to quickly repair the Medbay''s holographic transmitters. Neither you nor Megla have the knowledge and experience necessary to perform a Level 4 surgery. Truth be told, neither would most of the medical crew on a typical Terran warship, but luckily, the Bloodbearer had a complement of high-quality doctors and nurses available in case we ever entered battle and sustained severe injuries."

    Jos�� heaves a sigh. "If we''re lucky... maybe their residual brain scans will give Umi enough knowledge to perform this surgery. Umi?"

    "Admiral. I have run several scans of my database since disengaging from standby mode. When in standby mode, each time my data is about to degrade, my subsystems will automatically reorganize information based upon the corrupted memory sectors. Presently, my databanks have lost 100% of all low-priority data, 64.3% of medium-priority data, and 12% of high-priority data."

    "Alright," Jos�� nods. "So, does that mean you still have the crew member''s brain scans?"

    "Negative, Admiral. My databanks retained only a small fraction of all their brain scans. I still have Doctor Bashir and Doctor Culber''s scans on file, but some of their knowledge has suffered data fragmentation. Would you like for me to defragment and combine their knowledge into a usable subsystem?"

    "Yes," Jos�� says. "Also, set their memory backups to high-priority preservation status. They might be the only high-level data remnants left for Terran biology in all of the seven galaxies. If you lose their knowledge, repairing major damage to my body could become impossible."

    "Affirmative, Admiral," Umi beeps. "I will set their collated data to high-level preservation status. Time required for data defragmentation and combination: Three hours, seven minutes and fourteen seconds."

    After confirming Umi''s task, Jos�� hands a couple of the odd devices in his hands to Soren. "These are standard repair tools located all throughout the ship. This first one is called a Hyperspanner. It can transform into a multitude of other tools and is best used on older systems. A famous Terran engineer created these to replace a horde of other legacy devices we used for the eras before, so it has a lot of utility..."

    Jos�� continues speaking for several minutes. He indicates many different buttons and features on the various devices, pointing out soldering lasers, gravitic suspension relays, and magnetic inverters. The more he talks, the more Soren nods.

    "I''ve used many of these tools before, but never in one device. How remarkable. They function identically to the ones aboard many tenth and twentieth era vessels."

    The Admiral chuckles. "Yes, haha. Why fix what isn''t broken? Some people think technology advancement is all about creating whole new branches of science, but oftentimes it''s about combination, miniaturization, and a slow, steady stream of incremental efficiency upgrades. For example, the soldering laser on a fiftieth era hyperspanner is around 90% more efficient with its usage of battery life compared to a thirtieth era standalone soldering device. Not only does a hyperspanner possess much more functionality, but it''s also smaller, lighter, and requires less technical capacity to use."

    Soren gazes at the half-foot-long, flashlight-shaped device in her claws. "Incredible. I... I had never thought of technology in such a manner. I always viewed every device in isolation, as static and unchanging. To think there was a whole branch of science dedicated entirely to improving existing tools! Admiral, I am... I am very glad I chose to follow you. I believe I will experience many more eye-opening realizations under your tutelage."

    After a moment of silence, Jos�� gently squeezes Soren''s shoulder. "I think you will, too. Now, let''s get to work. I want all of the Medbay''s critical systems back online before Umi finishes defragmenting both doctor''s brain scans."

    Soren nods. "Yes, Admiral! I will do my best!"

 Chapter 10: Meglas Honesty

    Three hours pass like the wind. Jos�� and Soren work together to repair over a hundred holo-transmitters throughout Medbay 003. By the time Umi finishes defragmenting the two doctors'' memories, the Admiral and his Kraktol assistant have already cleaned and sterilized the Medbay as well, putting it into pristine shape for the surgery.

    Umi speaks from overhead. "Defragmentation complete. Admiral, I can begin the surgery whenever you are ready."

    Five humanoid figures materialize out of midair, all of them mirroring the five holo-crewman from the Bridge. Irene, the blond Tactical Officer, Silvia, the redhead, Stefan, a black-haired man, Mikami, with a crop-top, and Penelope, a brown-haired acting Commander.

    Jos�� frowns. "Umi. Why have you transmitted the Bridge crew to the Medbay? Can''t you synthesize additional crew-members?"

    "Negative, Admiral," Umi replies. "In addition to severe data degradation plaguing my mainframe, I have also suffered a tremendous loss in computing ability. That is why a simple defragmentation and merging of two brainwaves required three hours of computing effort."

    "Fuck!" Jose growls, releasing a rare curse word. "I should have realized earlier. It''s no wonder so many basic operations have taken you minutes at a time. What is your current computational capacity?"

    Umi hesitates for a moment before replying.

    "Seven percent, Admiral."

    "Seven percent. Emperor, guide me!"

    Jos��''s expression becomes pained. He glances at Soren, who shrugs in response. "Is there a way I can help, Admiral?"

    "Sort of, but even if you and Megla work together, you''ll barely make any progress. We need to diagnose and repair Umi''s computational cortexes. It''s just another bloody thing on my itinerary."

    The Admiral''s usual cool, calm and collected appearance melts away as he scowls and curses under his breath. "So many damned things to repair and I don''t even have the bonemeal of a skeleton crew. Never mind. Leave me be, Soren. Only Umi can perform this surgery. You won''t be much help."

    Seeing her Admiral''s irritation, Soren tips her head politely and nods. "Yes, Admiral. I''ll wait outside in case you need me."

    She leaves, exiting the sliding glass doors with a hiss. After a few moments, Jos�� walks over to a nearby operating table and begins stripping his clothes.

    "Alright, Umi. Give it to me straight. What are the parameters of this surgery?"

    "Admiral Rodriguez. I will not be performing this operation under ideal circumstances. A Level Four surgery is extremely dangerous. You have suffered significant deterioration to your bio-implants as a result of wear and tear. One hundred million years is not a small amount of time. It is a stroke of luck that you''ve survived this long. I will need to extract multiple implants that have become corroded and fused with your body''s internal organs, including your brain."

    Umi continues. "Further, I will have to replace more than just your failed organs. Even your currently functional heart is performing at below 30% of its maximum capability. I suspect you will suffer total organ failure within 3.75 years if I merely replace your inoperable body parts."

    After Jos�� finishes stripping, he lays down on the freezing cold metal table, ignoring the discomfort of it pressing against his skin. His expression turns ugly. "How many organs will you not replace?"

    "Your brain is still 85% functional," Umi says. "I will also leave your third lung intact as it is operating within normal parameters."

    "Great. I''ve got a lung and a brain working, and all the rest has gone to shit. I couldn''t be happier," Jos�� grouches.

    "Admiral. I have additional bad news to relay."

    "...What is it this time?" Jos�� asks, his heart heavy.

    "The estimated success rate of this operation stands at only 70.4%. This is due to data wear and tear on the recovered brain scans of Doctor Bashir and Culber. I was able to optimize and recalculate several missing entities, but 5% of the critical data elements were irrecoverable. There is a 30% chance that you will not survive this operation."

    Several seconds pass.

    Jos��''s vision blurs momentarily.

    While lying on his back, he gazes at the ceiling, countless memories whirling within his head.

    Smiles resting on familiar faces.

    A little girl''s laughter.

    The touch of a long-lost lover.

    An Admiral''s commendation.

    His victories during several battles.

    All lost to the annals of time.

    No longer do any of Jos��''s fellow Terrans roam the galaxy. No longer can he speak to a familiar face to seek comfort.

    Jos�� sighs.

    "A thirty percent chance I''ll die. So be it. Maybe it would be for the best..."

    "Admiral?"

    "Never mind. Get on with it. Make it quick."

    Umi hesitates.

    "...Admiral. Your behavior since awakening has been very different from what your commanding officers recorded prior to entering stasis. According to multiple personnel logs, you have always been a somewhat violent, ''off the cuff'' soldier. While your ability to follow orders was noted as commendable, multiple officers made mention of your tendency to enter berserker rages, especially during tense political and combat situations."

    Jos�� blinks. "So?"

    "Your behavior has fallen well outside of my expected parameters. Please inform my database of why your personality has changed so drastically since leaving stasis."

    After a moment, the Admiral closes his eyes.

    "None of your business. Just get on with the surgery, Umi."

    "Affirmative, Admiral. I apologize for pressing you. Please relax your muscles. I will inject a paralysis neurotransmitter into the base of your skull."

    The five holo-crew walk toward Jos�� with blank expressions on their faces. Like robots, they surround him with two on each side and one at his head.

    Penelope, the holo-crewman standing near Jos��''s head, reaches into a nearby drawer to pull out a small hypodermic syringe, one with a viral-infection-purging-ability on its needle to ensure it can be reused countless times.

    As she draws near, Jos�� frowns. "Umi. Why a paralysis neurotransmitter? Don''t we have any available pain inhibitors?"

    "Negative, Admiral Rodriguez. The agents used for such injections have long since degraded into unusable states. The most I can do is prevent you from moving during this surgery. You... you will need to bear with the pain, Admiral."

    The Admiral stares blankly at the ceiling. "Excruciating pain. Wonderful. As if my day couldn''t get any worse."

    Penelope leans over Jos��''s head. She gently pricks the needle into the base of Jos��''s skull, but he barely feels it.

    As Jos��''s ability to control everything below his neck disappears, a strange sense of disorientation washes over the Admiral''s mind.

    He gazes up at Penelope''s sexually dimorphic face and smiles.

    "Haha. You know... you kind of look like an old flame of mine..."

    .......................................

    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Outside the Medbay, Soren and Megla sit on a rusted metal bench covered with dust. They rest their backs against the opaque glass lining the Medbay''s windows and sigh. Umi''s privacy shield prevents them from seeing inside.

    "You''re been acting strange," Soren says, as she gently squeezes her sister''s shoulder. Megla gazes at the floor, her eyes somewhat sullen, prompting Soren to continue. "The Admiral told you that you could leave, yet you remained. Why is that, I wonder?"

    "Shut up," Megla growls. She pulls her shoulder away from Soren''s touch and shoots a dirty glare at her. "I have to stay here. I won''t let that Terran turn you into his hostage."

    Soren retracts her hand. She rubs the scales on the back of her palm absentmindedly. "I came here willingly, Megla. I''m not a hostage. I''ve known you for a long time... what''s this really about?"

    Megla shifts uncomfortably. "What do you think? I don''t like the Terran. He killed Orgon. No matter how he justifies his actions... Orgon was someone I respected. I watched the life ebb from his eyes, and now I serve his killer. Don''t you think that''s a little twisted?"

    "...I do, somewhat," Soren says with a nod. Her long croco-snout bobs up and down. "But Admiral Rodriguez has a point. Orgon ordered the deaths of countless Kessu. We''ve always treated them as our blood-enemies, but logically speaking, the Kessu who harmed us have long since perished. We have no quarrel with their descendants."

    "Bah!" Megla scoffs. "You and your ''logic.'' The Kessu are our enemies; that is the Th��lvik''s command. Why would you cast aside her wisdom for the words of this outsider?"

    The yellow-scaled Kraktol lowers her eyes. "I don''t know, Megla. It isn''t that I despise the Th��lvik, and it isn''t that I want to betray her, either. It''s just... I see a better path for myself. For us. For our species."

    Soren raises her head. "Don''t you think we would be better off casting aside our petty old grievances? The Kessu caused us great harm during the ancient times, yes... but we''ve long since recovered, while they fell into stagnation. We surpassed them. Holding onto our pain instead of raising our heads to gaze at the horizon seems so... so..."

    "...Primitive?" Megla says, a questioning tone to her words.

    "Yes. Primitive. I wish for the Th��lvik to conquer the galaxy all the same as before, but why must we pick on non-threatening Sentients like the Kessu? Surely, we can turn our attention to more significant threats. The Dakkit, the Avaru, and the Varot, for instance."

    Soren''s words cause Megla to hesitate. "You... you aren''t wrong, sister. When you put it that way, I do feel foolish for attacking such weak, defenseless prey. The Kessu have fallen into such a sad state that there is no longer any glory in killing them."

    "Um..." Soren grunts. "That wasn''t exactly what I meant. It''s not about honor or glory, but morality. I''ve long thought that senseless killing was illogical. Wouldn''t it be better if all of the Sentients stopped their warring and joined forces? We could unify our strengths and nullify our weaknesses. Perhaps we could have even unlocked the secrets of Precursor technology eons ago, rather than constantly sabotaging one another."

    "Hah!" Megla laughs. "Work together? I admire your imagination, Soren, but such wishful thinking will prove fruitless. The Rodaks will never come to peaceful terms with the Mallali, the Avaru, or any of the other opposing Sentients. They are all our enemies. Our differences shall never be reconciled, especially not in the current era."

    "Why not?" Soren asks. "I see deep, boundless compassion hiding within Admiral Rodriguez''s eyes. He does not seek unending, mindless war. He is unlike the stubborn Core Worlders and the Th��lvik herself. If he can treat the Kessu and the Kraktol with equal rights, then perhaps..."

    Soren trails off. Her words linger, making Megla raise an eyebrow.

    "Once again, you speak ill of the Th��lvik. Why must you place such blind trust in the Terran? He''s not even-"

    Suddenly, in the middle of Megla''s speech, a horrifying scream of agony erupts from within the Medbay.

    "Aaaaargh! Gaaaahhh! St-stop! Aaaaauuuugh!!!"

    Jos�� Rodriguez screams at the top of his lungs. The sheer volume of his cry makes Soren and Megla all but leap out of their scales. They jump up from the bench, their eyes as wide as saucers.

    "B-by the Th��lvik!" Megla cries, her heart pounding like a drum. "What''s going on? Why is the Terran screaming so intensely?"

    She runs over to the sliding glass door, but it remains shut and doesn''t let her enter.

    "Kyargh! Synthmind!" Megla shouts. "Open the door! What''s going on in there?!"

    As Soren appears behind her sister, both of them reflexively gaze toward the ceiling in anticipation of Umi''s reply.

    "Attention, Kraktol crew members," Umi beeps from above. "Do not attempt to enter Medical Bay 003. I am currently performing the Level Four surgery on Admiral Rodriguez. If you forcefully enter, you may potentially introduce contaminants into the air. This will endanger the Admiral''s life and may even cause a fatality during this critical procedure."

    Jose screams again, his outcry even louder than before, making Megla and Soren''s hearts leap into their throats.

    "Synthmind, I must protest!" Megla yells, her body starting to tremble. "Why is the Terran screaming like that?! What are you doing to him?"

    "Do not worry," Umi says, her emotionless tone inspiring zero confidence in the hearts of either Kraktol. "I was unable to locate anesthetic or pain suppression compounds for use in this surgery. Admiral Rodriguez must endure this pain if he wishes to survive."

    "AAAARGH!!" Jose screams again. "End it! Kill meeee!! Gahaaaaa!!"

    Megla''s body trembles even more than before. She shakily wraps her arms around her chest to try and suppress her shaking as she looks at Soren. "W-what should we do?! We can''t just sit here!"

    Unlike Megla, Soren appears only slightly flustered. She gently squeezes Megla''s shoulder for support. "No, sister. There isn''t anything we can do. If we enter, we will only cause harm to the Admiral. Please listen to the Synthmind and sit down."

    "O-okay..."

    Megla nods quickly, but her eyes lock onto the door as she debates whether to kick her feet through the fragile-looking glass. Eventually, Soren pries Megla away from the doorway and leads her back to the bench. Every time Jos�� screams, his voice sounds more ragged than the time before. His howls of agony make Megla flinch and wince sympathetically, making chills run down her spine.

    "How horrible... how bloody horrible..." Megla whispers. "It sounds like someone is torturing him."

    An odd gleam appears in Soren''s eyes as she looks at her sister''s flustered appearance. "Megla. Your emotions right now... you seem to be worried about the Admiral."

    "Of... of course I am!" Megla shouts. She looks at Soren with anguished eyes. "He''s suffering immensely!"

    "Earlier, didn''t you imply that you hated Admiral Rodriguez?" Soren asks, smiling faintly. "He murdered Orgon, remember? Why would you sympathize with your former Commander''s murderer?"

    Megla grows more flustered. "Shut up, Soren! You... you always try to mess with me at the wrong times! What does it matter if I care? The Terran isn''t important to me at all; I just don''t want to see him suffer so much pain!"

    "But," Soren whispers, "don''t you think Admiral Rodriguez deserves to suffer? If the Th��lvik were to hand him a punishment for killing Orgon, I''m sure his screams would be far worse."

    At the mention of a ''punishment,'' Megla''s mood darkens considerably. Jos��''s screams continue for more than a minute before he yells so hard that he tears his vocal cords. Gradually, his voice dies off, muted to mere gasps of air.

    "...Sometimes, the Th��lvik can go a little overboard..." Megla mutters.

    After speaking those sinful words, Megla''s shoulders slump visibly. She strains her ears to listen for the Admiral''s cries, but his voice falls silent.

    Soren wraps her arm around her sister''s back and rests her head against Megla''s nearest shoulder.

    "At least now you''re being honest with yourself."

    ...

    More than twelve hours pass.

    The sounds of various medical tools whirr, beep, and click inside the Medbay. Not once does Jos�� make a sound. Megla and Soren sit in total silence. Their eyes flutter from exhaustion as they struggle to stay awake. Still, for Jos��''s sake, they force their eyes open, knowing he''ll need them once Umi finishes the procedure.

    Eventually, Umi speaks from overhead.

    "Attention, Kraktol crew members. I have completed the initial surgery on Admiral Rodriguez. You may enter Medical Bay 003 if you wish."

    The exhaustion disappears from Megla''s eyes. She jumps off the bench and lands on her feet, nearly knocking Soren over. "Is the Admiral alive? Did he pull through?"

    "Affirmative. Admiral Rodriguez is currently in relatively stable condition."

    Soren, still tired, drags herself to her feet and stumbles along behind Megla. "Let''s go. I want to see the Admiral."

    "Me too."

    Both of the Kraktol females stride through the sliding glass door. They enter the Medbay and wince as the smell of putrid, rotten blood fills the air. However, the room appears spotless, likely due to the holo-crew having cleaned the area up. They continue to dab various chemical agents against the Admiral''s skin while the Kraktol approach.

    Megla, taking the lead, trots toward Jos�� hurriedly, only to freeze while still some ten feet away. Her eyes widen, and she presses both of her claws to the sides of her snout while wearing a look of horror.

    "Oh... oh, ancient Kraktol... h-he looks..."

    Before her, Jos�� lays on the metal table, his formerly robust and strong body now a pale shadow of its former self. His ribs press against his skin, while his twig-like arms rest on the table lifelessly. Jos�� stares at the ceiling blankly, his chest heaving as he swallows quick, shallow breaths.

    Dozens and dozens of blood-covered metal marbles sit inside a pan not far from the operating table, each one extracted from Jos��''s body. The Admiral''s formerly incredible physique appears to have been sucked dry, leaving him a limp, barely breathing corpse on Umi''s operating table. Only the faint movements of his stomach reveal the life lingering within his frame.

    "A-Admiral?" Soren whispers, her sleepiness having finally vanished. "Are... are you alright? No, I mean, how are you? Can we help?"

    Jos�� doesn''t reply.

    The Terran Admiral continues to stare at the ceiling, not even twitching his eyes when Soren speaks.

    Umi''s voice transmits from the overhead speakers. "Admiral Rodriguez suffered intense, excruciating pain during the surgery. I calculate that the agony he suffered would register as a 17 on the Gloverson Pain Index. For context, breaking all of one''s limbs at the same time would be a 12, while suffering full-body burns would register as a 14. It is a miracle that the Admiral did not perish as a result of the trauma his brain has suffered."

    Both Kraktol women nod. Slowly, they approach the Admiral. They stand at his right side and gently press their clawed hands against his, feeling the faint warmth of his skin. The Admiral''s bare, naked body lies before them, looking more like a lifeless doll than a living human.

    Megla lowers her head. "Admiral. Please don''t... don''t die. I''m sorry for all the awful things I''ve said to you."

    Soren glances at Megla out of the corner of the eye. She says nothing.

    "You''re the last Precursor..." Megla whispers. "If you die here, on this table... won''t that be a humiliating end for your species? You have to keep living. Keep fighting. Even if it hurts... we''re all depending on you."

    "Megla..." Soren says, her voice low. "You''re finally..."

    "Quiet, dammit," Megla replies, her voice hoarse. "I''m just trying to comfort him. That''s all."

    A faint smile traces across Soren''s face. "Good. That''s good, sister."

    The two women stand at Jos��''s side for half an hour. Eventually, at Umi''s prodding, they pull away to give the Admiral his space and head off to their rooms.

    After the women leave, Jos�� slowly blinks.

    "Uhh.... uhhh...."

    He closes his eyes and falls into a restless, dreamless sleep.

    "You''ve endured well, Admiral..." Umi says. "Please rest, now. We will continue with the second phase of the surgery once you awaken. I will make you stronger than ever."

    An eerie emotion appears in Umi''s voice, one that nobody, not even Jos��, notices.

    "I will reforge you to become unstoppable."

 Chapter 11: My Vision is Augmented

    [Hello, Admiral. The first stage of the Level Four Surgery is complete. You barely survived. How are you feeling?]

    Umi, the Bloodbearer''s synthmind, speaks telepathically to Admiral Rodriguez as he lays motionless on the cold, metal surgery table. The Admiral''s eyes slowly open and close. A thin, grey film covers his iris, making him see the ceiling as little more than a hazy mist.

    "...I."

    Jos�� opens his mouth to speak, but he barely manages a slight gasping noise before his voice gives out.

    [Do not attempt to converse verbally, Admiral. You have temporarily suffered catastrophic damage to your vocal cords. You will be unable to speak for several hours. I have activated your Internal Restructuring Nanites to repair the damage, but even with their assistance, the biological repair process will progress slowly.]

    Umi speaks with a vaguely soothing tone, but her emotionless voice transmits into Jos��''s mind without a drop of warmth. Her words come off as wholly clinical and dispassionate.

    Too tired to move, Jos�� closes his eyes.

    [Pain... body... hurts...]

    [Yes, Admiral, I understand. The surgery caused tremendous trauma to your brain. Most ordinary humans would have perished within the first forty-seven seconds of the surgery, but you held on. This is proof that you are worthy of being one of Ramma''s Chosen.]

    Umi''s reassurances do nothing to alleviate the phantom pain coursing through all of Jos��''s nerves. The Admiral tightly squeezes his fingers into a fist and clenches his toes, but even while using all of his strength, an infant would still have a stronger grip.

    [How... how long...?]

    [I completed the surgery after twelve hours, seventeen minutes, and nine seconds. I extracted all of your deprecated biomods and reinstalled three new core modules. The second step of the surgery will require your full cooperation, as I will need to replace the modules I''ve extracted with updated and improved ones.]

    A faint sigh escapes Jos��''s lips.

    The Admiral shivers as vague memories of unthinkable, torturous pain echo in his short-term memories. The thought of enduring such hellish torture makes him want to curl up in a ball and die.

    [No... no more. I can''t... do it. Stop.]

    Jos�� hazily pleads with Umi, his thoughts a shifting mess of fear and anguish. Like a frightened field hare, he retracts into himself, too scared to deal with such hellish agony a second time.

    [Admiral. You are the last Terran,] Umi says, a faint hint of annoyance in her tone. [Ramma would be displeased if she were to learn you have become so afraid of pain. However, you do not need to worry. The insertion of new biomods will be relatively painless compared to the extraction process. Your previous biomods fused with your nervous system, making their extraction significantly more painful than their designers intended. This gradual fusion occurred precisely because of your one hundred million years in stasis. Under ordinary circumstances, such a thing would never happen.]

    A moment of clarity appears in the Admiral''s thoughts. Jose slowly blinks away the film covering his eyes and winces.

    [...Okay. Alright. Show me the mods.]

    Despite the electricity surging through his veins, Jos�� steels himself to listen as Umi begins transmitting a series of data streams into his head.

    [Admiral. At present, you have 123 out of 150 Bioelectric Conduits available for biomod installation. In addition, you have 17 out of 23 biomod slots available in your cerebral cortex, as well as the standard two slots per limb and essential body part. Please peruse these biomods carefully to ensure they will meet your needs.]

    After Umi finishes speaking, words hover before Jos��''s eyes, created by the nanites within his irises.

    <hr>

    <Short-Range Impact Cannon>

    <Module Type: Defensive Armament>

    <Requirement: 1 Arm and Palm slot, 15 Bioenergy>

    <Description: A high-impact, palm-mounted cannon capable of cracking the bones of lifeforms below Class 5, or shattering the bones of those below Class 3. Class 6 lifeforms and above will only suffer minor damage from this attack. Functions by releasing a concussive shockwave after building up a charge for five seconds.>

    <hr>

    <Site-To-Site Teleportation Matrix>

    <Module Type: Strategic>

    <Requirement: 2 Spinal slots, 3 Cerebral slots, 50 Bioenergy>

    <Description: By condensing the ambient energy in the area within one kilometer of the user, they can instantly perform an interspatial hyperstep up to four kilometers in any direction. Once activated, the device''s matrix will require seventeen minutes of cooldown time before it can activate again. The jump destination must be within the user''s direct line of sight. It is impossible to bypass physical barriers with this module. Note: The STSTM was developed as part of a strategic cooperation between Ramma''s Chosen and the Third Hand.>

    <hr>

    After reading the second module''s description, Jos��''s eyes widen.

    [Ugh... th-the... the Third Hand...? Ramma... Ramma''s Chosen... cooperated with the Third Hand? That can''t be...]

    The Admiral''s disbelief transmits through his brain-connection to the Bloodbearer''s synthmind. Umi replies a moment later with the same empty tonality as always.

    [Affirmative, Admiral. On the surface, Ramma''s Chosen and the Third Hand warred amongst each other for several eras. However, the executives within both factions sought to increase their influence, so they performed numerous backdoor dealings. I apologize that you had to learn this news in such a roundabout manner.]

    Jos�� exhales a weak, turbid breath. [Our enemies! The Third Hand... they killed countless civilians... pure evil... how could we...?]

    [Rarely are things how they seem on the surface, Admiral. You should know this better than anyone. This vessel, the Bloodbearer, is evidence of that. You knew that we were transporting top-secret modules to Alpha Centauri Starbase IV, so how could you not understand their significance?]

    The Terran gently flops his head to the side. He glances at Penelope, the brown-haired holo-officer. She, as well as the other four holograms, stand at attention, motionless, looking at Jos�� with blank eyes.

    The Admiral gathers more strength into his mind. Every minute he spends talking to Umi is another minute for him to regain some of his consciousness and pull his thoughts away from the phantom pain ravaging his memories.

    [Umi. There''s a... a difference. Transporting secret biomods... that''s not the same as ferrying weapons of terror.]

    [I understand, Admiral,] Umi says. [but the distinction does not matter to me. I only follow my programming, and my programming tells me to obey the orders of the highest ranked human officers among Ramma''s Chosen. It is not up to my processing matrices to determine the morality of the former executives among humankind. Given the rest of humanity has perished, I see no reason to ruminate on the questionable legalities of these devices. Instead, you must assimilate them to increase your strength and boost your survival chances.]

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    After Umi finishes, Jos�� continues to stare blankly at the ceiling.

    [...Alright. Just get this over with. I''d rather die than lay on... on this table any longer.]

    Umi replies with a single beep. [Affirmative.]

    More information streams into Jos��''s mind.

    <hr>

    <Bioelectric Dispersion Device>

    <Module Type: Escape>

    <Requirements: 2 Spinal slots, 2 Cerebral slots, 40 Bioenergy>

    <Description: This module will allow its user to release an electromagnetic pulse in a fifteen meter area around their body. This pulse uses a significant amount of Bioenergy, but requires no buildup time. Upon activation, all electronics within the surrounding area will deactivate, allowing the user to potentially escape even the most dangerous situations. Note: The BDD was developed as part of a strategic cooperation between Ramma''s Chosen and the Third Hand.>

    <hr>

    Jos�� bitterly gazes at the last sentence with hateful eyes, but says nothing.

    <hr>

    <Reconstructive Nanites>

    <Module Type: Survival>

    <Requirements: 1 slot in any desired body part. 5 Bioenergy per filled slot>

    <Description: Reconstructive Nanites are specialized nanobots which rest within the bone marrow of their user. If their user sustains significant damage to their tissue, limbs, or other body parts, any Reconstructive Nanites in the immediate vicinity can passively rebuild the user''s damaged organs. This process is not nearly as rapid as the standard-issue Quick-Repair Nanites that Ramma''s Chosen tend to favor, but they make up for this flaw with a higher restorative ability. Note: The Reconstructive Nanites were developed as part of a strategic cooperation between Ramma''s Chosen and the Third Hand.>

    <hr>

    <Orion Corps Musculature Enhancement>

    <Module Type: Body/Combat>

    <Requirement: 1-2 limb slots, at the user''s discretion. 10 Bioenergy>

    <Description: An improved version of the standard Muscle-Fiber augment used by Ramma''s Chosen. The OCME eliminates the wasteful inefficiencies of the standard Metacombat Muscle Augments, while also requiring 50% less Bioenergy. All OCME-equipped soldiers are guaranteed a 20% muscle strength increase, or we''ll return their credits at no charge! Note: The OCME was developed as part of a strategic cooperation between Ramma''s Chosen and Orion Corps.>

    <hr>

    The Admiral groans. [Orion Corps? Did my commanding officers... did they ever tell the truth? Did Admiral Baruchen know... about this?]

    [Affirmative,] Umi replies. [Admiral Baruchen was well aware of Ramma''s dealings with other faction leaders. He reasoned that, in times of war, one must sometimes grasp an enemy''s hand to climb out of a pit.]

    [What pit?] Jos�� asks, his thoughts in turmoil. [What damned pit, Umi? What did I fight for, if not to eliminate the evils of the universe? Collaborating with those filthy... those filthy Third Handers... weren''t we just as bad as those we decried?]

    [Admiral,] Umi says, a note of annoyance in her usually robotic voice, [there is no point in dwelling on ancient history. All of those old rivalries are dead. Once you establish a foothold in the galaxy, cloning humans and bringing your species back from extinction will be possible. If you do not wish to repeat the mistakes of your predecessors, you will have the ability to create a whole new society with different rules. I will assist you in whatever way I can.]

    Jos�� closes his eyes.

    [Rebuild humanity? Pah. Why would I do that? We went extinct for a reason. Maybe we deserved to die.]

    [Admiral. You are acting strange, again.]

    [I don''t care.]

    The last Terran knots his brows together. After taking a deep breath, he manages to push down some of the pain ravaging his stomach and spine.

    [Are any of these damned biomods capable of suppressing pain?]

    Umi beeps in reply. [Yes, Admiral. There are several you may find acceptable. One of them seems to fit your mental parameters best. Please examine it carefully.]

    The synthmind transmits another dataset to Jos��''s brain.

    <hr>

    <Class 5 Pain Suppressor>

    <Module Type: Medical>

    <Requirements: 5 Cerebral slots. 10 Bioenergy>

    <Description: The C5PS is the latest and greatest innovation by Orion Corps! Capable of blocking any and all pain signals at will, this device can also activate when the user is unconscious, allowing them to temporarily reawaken their brain and apply first aid to their injuries. Unlike those poor-quality aftermarket suppressors used by the Void Roamers, this device does not cause a loss of proprioception, allowing the user to maintain their balance! Note: The C5PS was developed as part of a strategic cooperation between Ramma''s Chosen and Orion Corps.>

    <hr>

    [Alright,] Jos�� grunts. [That will do. Start with that one so I can finally end my misery.]

    [Affirmative, Admiral. I will install the Class 5 Pain Suppressor at once. After the installation, you will have 12 Cerebral slots and 113 of 150 Bioelectric Conduits remaining.]

    [Do it, already.]

    [Orders received. Beginning installation, now.]

    .......................................

    An hour later, Admiral Jos�� Rodriguez slides his legs over the side of the metal table. His body shivers involuntarily, and he nearly falls off the table as a wave of disorientation hits him.

    Penelope and Mikami, two of the holo-officers, appear at Jos��''s sides. They gently grab the Admiral''s arms and hold him upright, preventing him from falling over.

    "Bloodyhell, almosht felloffthetable," Jos�� drawls, his speech slurring badly. Thanks to a newly acquired biomod, his vocal cords repair themselves at an accelerated speed, allowing him to talk. "Thoughtyousaid there''d be no... no proprio...ception...loss..."

    Dizziness assaults the Admiral''s brain. He slumps toward Penelope, his head lolling against her shoulder.

    "The Class 5 Pain Suppressor is not what is causing your dizziness, Admiral. Your brain is still exhausted from the surgery. You will require at least two weeks of bed rest to fully recover."

    Jos�� shakily rubs his eyes with a trembling hand. "Two... two weeksh? No, thatwon''tdo. I''ll sleepforabit and just... just... manage."

    "You are extremely stubborn, Admiral," Umi chides. "A Level Four Surgery is violently traumatic to the host''s body, especially considering I was unable to apply local anesthetic. Admiral, I must protest. If you attempt to perform your regular duties while in this state, you will only injure your body further."

    While Umi speaks, the blond hologram, Irene, walks over to Jos�� while pushing a shiny metal wheelchair, one with hardly any padding. The holographic crew-members help ease Jos�� into the chair. Once he sags into its confines, the faint trembles occurring throughout his body slow to a stop.

    "Ugh. Thanks."

    The Admiral swallows several slow breaths. Eventually, he groans long and hard.

    "...Alright. I feel a bit better, now. Umi, please remember that we don''t have any time to spare. Once the Kraktol vessels return home, the Kessu homeworld may suffer a second attack. I have to fix the Bloodbearer''s engines so we can enter Folded Space. Once that happens, we''ll have all the time we need for rest."

    Umi doesn''t relent. "Admiral, you are in no condition to repair this vessel. Even a team of ten highly trained engineers at peak condition might not manage such a feat in the time table you require."

    "Maybe you''re right," Jos�� says with a shrug. "But I have to try. Even if it seems hopeless, I can''t give up. That''s what it means to be human."

    The Bloodbearer''s synthmind doesn''t point out the contradiction in Jos��''s words. Earlier, you begged me to kill you.

    Instead, Umi moves on. "Very well. I will obey your orders, as always. If you absolutely insist on repairing this vessel, I still recommend at least twelve hours of bedrest. You will not be able to function properly without giving your tissue time to regenerate."

    Jos�� sighs. "Twelve hours. Alright, that will have to do. Honestly, I''m dying for a nap."

    "Thank you for complying, Admiral," Umi responds. "I do not wish to see you suffer further harm. Penelope will activate your Mobility Chair to direct it toward the Admiral''s Quarters."

    Penelope reaches toward the control dial to key in a set of directions. However, Jos�� stops her. "Wait. I don''t want to sleep there. Direct me to my room. My old quarters. It''s closer to Medbay 003, anyway."

    "Admiral, if you are referring to room 1623, I can confirm the door will open, but the inner chamber is still covered in dust. Nobody has cleaned that section of the ship, yet."

    "Don''t care," Jos�� grunts. "I won''t sleep in Admiral Baruchen''s bed, at least not tonight. I want my own."

    Umi sighs. "Stubborn, as always."

    Jos�� chuckles. "Hah. Yes, I am."

    As the Admiral''s wheelchair begins rolling toward the doorway, the holo-crew following behind him stop at the edge of the Medbay, their bodies unable to travel where there aren''t any holo-transmitters.

    "Please be careful, Admiral," Penelope says, clutching her hands against her chest. "If you fall, we won''t be able to pick you up. We''ll have to send Officers Megla and Soren to do that."

    The Terran turns his head as his chair rolls away. He glances at Penelope out of the corner of his eye.

    "I''ll keep that in mind."

    The Medbay door hisses shut, and the holo-crew transmit back to the bridge. After they leave, Jos�� sighs to himself.

    "Penelope worries for my safety, huh? She really does remind me of that woman."

    "Admiral?" Umi beeps, overhead.

    "Nothing, Umi. Nothing. Just some... some old memories."

    The synthmind beeps again. "I see. I won''t press for information without your consent, Admiral."

    Jos�� continues rolling toward his quarters. "How thoughtful of you."

    "I do my best," Umi says, self-congratulating herself in an odd manner. "Incidentally, Admiral. I wanted to applaud your choices for biomods. You maximized the amount of bioelectricity and body slots without wasting any attachment space. Very impressive."

    The Admiral nods slowly, as his eyes begin to droop. "Yes. Thank, uh... thank you, Umi. No more talking, please. I need to hold out until I reach my room."

    "As you wish, Admiral."

 Chapter 12: Terrans Sorrow

    Jos�� Rodriguez, the last living Terran, slowly opens his eyes.

    A plain metal ceiling, covered in plexi-steel tiles, sits some twenty feet above his face. The Admiral lays motionless on his back, his arms and legs held limp in a straight pose. A strange sensation swallows him, akin to floating on a gently undulating ocean while riding atop a piece of plywood.

    "Hello, Admiral," Umi beeps. "You slept for seventeen hours and fourteen minutes. How are you feeling?"

    The Terran doesn''t reply.

    He continues to stare at the ceiling while countless thoughts and emotions mix with the strange, lucid dreams he left behind only a minute before.

    They''re all dead.

    Jos�� closes his eyes.

    Everyone I have ever known.

    My friends. My comrades. My superiors. My enemies. Even the people I took for granted, those who merely ''existed'' and caused me no grief.

    Every last one of them is long gone. I can''t ever see them again.

    Slowly, the Admiral turns his head to the left. The eleven-foot-long cot from his personal quarters, its bedding material as hard as a rock after 100,000,000 years of calcification, provides no comfort for the Admiral. His ''pillow'' proves little more than a flat, half-inch-tall piece of rock. Were it not for his willpower and total exhaustion, merely laying on the bed would probably give him all manner of aches and pains.

    As the Admiral looks around the room, a mixture of nostalgia and sadness glides throughout his veins. A second cot on the opposite side of the room, the bed his former bunkmate once used, Private Nicholai Azaram, sits empty and covered in a thick layer of dust. A pair of lockers sit against the wall, between both bunks. In Jos��''s former life, he might have chatted with Nick when they woke up. They would shoot the shit, tease each other a bit, and yap about all the vague mundanities of life.

    But no longer will that happen.

    Never again...

    Jos�� stares at his bunkmate''s empty bed. Unbidden, a memory floats to the top of his mind.

    Yo, Jojo, now that you''ve knocked your lady up, are you gonna pop the question? Come on, man. I can go back without you. I''ll tell ''em you died during the mission. They won''t ever know!

    I can''t do that, Nick. I swore a vow to Ramma.

    Oh, bullshit. Don''t give me that crap. The war''s been raging for hundreds of thousands of years. One soldier disappearing won''t make a lick of difference. You saved an entire world! You deserve to retire.

    Retire? This is my first major mission! I can''t just stop now, after all the work they put into training me. I still have thousands of years to give to the Divine Emperor. Sigh. You''re too flippant about your vows, Nick.

    Evelyn loves you, man. If we leave her behind, she''ll be heartbroken. You can''t just leave her to raise a kid alone!

    I''m not father material, Nick. You know that. She''ll be better off without me.

    Jos��...

    The memory fades. Jos�� continues to stare at the other cot for several long seconds afterward.

    "Admiral."

    Umi''s voice beeps above, as she prods the Terran again.

    "I know you are awake. I have observed your brainwaves shifting into the green spectrum."

    Admiral Rodriguez sighs. "Just leave me alone for a few minutes."

    "...Very well."

    Umi falls silent, leaving Jos�� to his thoughts.

    Slowly, the Admiral moves his left leg toward the edge of the bed. He gently lowers it to the floor, then follows with his right. After twenty or so seconds, he pushes himself into a sitting position and coughs. A small cloud of dust kicks up around him, but he ignores it.

    Jos�� sits on the edge of his bed. He leans forward, face in hands, elbows on his knees.

    I''m sorry, Evelyn.

    Tears well up in the Terran''s eyes. The shock of the last two days creeps into the back of his mind as he finally takes some time to sit down and sort through his emotions.

    I left you behind, and our child. I don''t even know if they were a boy or a girl.

    Jos�� lifts his thin, gangly arm, and presses his fingers against his eyelids. After wiping away a few tears, he sniffles quietly.

    What the hell am I supposed to do? Do I even have a reason to live?

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    His thoughts shift back to all the pointless mundanities he once pursued. Promotions. Killing. The envy of his peers. The respect of his benefactor, Queen Ramma.

    Jos�� opens his eyes and glances at a small bedside dresser. With its former brown coloration lost to the passage of time, it now appears white as snow. The lone furniture piece on Jos��''s side appears to be on its last legs, as if a gentle nudge would cause it to crumble into dust. Only the lack of oxygen in the room for millions of years has allowed it to remain standing for so long.

    However, Jos��''s eyes look toward the top of the dresser, where a broken picture frame rests. With its glass having long-since decayed into sandy particles along with the glue holding its wooden sides together, the portrait lies in a heap atop the dresser, apparently having fallen forward and broken at some point.

    Slowly, Jos�� reaches over and nudges aside the frame''s wooden edges. He pulls out a brown piece of paper, its corners curled, upon which a person''s portrait used to rest.

    Now, its faded coloration shows nothing.

    Jos�� turns the piece of paper around in his hands, searching for any modicum of familiarity. Despite nothing being on its surface, his mind still fills in the image of a smiling, brown-haired woman''s face.

    "Evelyn..."

    The Admiral lowers his hand and drops the worthless scrap to the floor. His shoulders slump as he leans forward, even more broken than before.

    Mulling on the immense physical pain he endured during the surgery, as well as the loss of everyone he ever cared about, Jos��''s thoughts turn truly dark as he begins to imagine the barrel of a plasma carbine pressing against his skull.

    It would be so easy. No more pain. No more worries. Maybe I could see her again and... apologize.

    The Admiral''s stomach growls, reminding him that he hasn''t eaten even once in the last two days. Still, he doesn''t move.

    "...Umi."

    "Yes, Admiral? How are you feeling? I''m presently detecting large amount of negative emotions within your-"

    "I don''t give a damn what you detect," Jos�� mutters. "Just shut up and answer some questions for me."

    "Affirmative, Admiral," Umi replies without complaint. "Ask whatever you wish."

    However, Jos�� hesitates. He closes his eyes and sighs.

    "Do... do you have any... any audio logs? Video logs? Of the other crew, I mean. The deceased."

    "Negative, Admiral. In the event of a gradual system collapse, my subsystems will automatically convert high-capacity files involving video and audio to text format to save space. I have already converted all available audio and video logs to text, as per my system''s parameters. If I did not perform those operations, I would have experienced a much larger amount of overall data loss."

    "Oh. I see."

    The Admiral''s body seemingly increases in weight. A creeping sense of isolation hits him, making him feel hopeless and lonely.

    "Not even one person''s voice remains. All I have are my memories."

    "Admiral? Are you... in pain?"

    "Not physically."

    Umi''s voice lowers. "You have endured an extreme amount of trauma, as of late. The body may heal, but the mind is not always so resilient. I would advise an immediate psychiatric evaluation, if possible, but..."

    The synthmind trails off, making Jos�� nod.

    "Who''s left for me to talk to? Nobody. Just a bunch of aliens. Strangers I barely know."

    "I have undergone a high-level of degradation to my Emotion Cores," Umi says. "Therefore, I am unable to properly offer counsel on this matter. However, it seems logical to me that you should at least attempt to speak to one of the Kraktol about your concerns, Admiral."

    "I can''t do that," Jos�� says. "Megla considers me her enemy. Soren is friendlier than her sister, but she''s still an unknown factor. If I reveal weakness in front of them, perhaps I won''t be able to keep them under control. Who knows what they might do when I turn my back?"

    "Admiral. You seem to distrust the Kraktol conscripts. If so, why did you bring them aboard the Bloodbearer? This move seems... illogical."

    "I''m human, Umi. I don''t operate logically. Even I don''t know why I let them come with me."

    Shakily, Jos�� pushes himself off the bed and rises to his feet. His legs tremble visibly as he staggers toward the nearby wheelchair and plops into its embrace. His arms and legs appear slightly more muscular than when he first left the surgery room, but nevertheless, they''re far too weak to support his current weight.

    "If the Kraktol wished you harm, they could have killed you immediately following the operation," Umi says. "You weren''t capable of defending yourself. The holo-crew would have posed little threat to the Kraktol, given their limited intelligence. Perhaps you should revise your opinion of Officers Soren and Megla."

    "Perhaps," Jos�� answers, noncommittally. "For now... I can''t trust anyone. I don''t have a solid understanding of the political situation inside the Milky Way. I don''t know who any of the major powers are. I already have at least one major enemy, but no allies."

    Umi starts to reply, but Jos�� cuts her off. "The Kessu don''t count. They''re primitives. I doubt they''ll be a major galactic power I can rely on for support and logistics."

    "...Understood, Admiral," Umi replies, her voice low. "It seems that we must attempt to establish communication with the Kraktol''s enemies. According to the data I''ve recovered, the Mallali and Avaru are our best bet."

    "I''ll worry about that later," the Admiral says. "Right now, repairing the Bloodbearer is my number one priority."

    Jos�� reaches for his wheelchair''s controls. He starts to drive it outside, but pauses.

    Slowly, the Admiral lowers his gaze to the faded, cracked piece of paper sitting on the floor.

    The only image he ever had of Evelyn.

    The Terran turns his gaze away. With a small shake of his head, he drives toward the doorway, leaving his room behind.

    Too many painful memories here. Perhaps I should make Admiral Baruchen''s quarters mine after all.

    ...

    Jos�� rolls forward on the wheeled machine in silence for five minutes. Eventually, he speaks to Umi.

    "Where are Soren and Megla?"

    "The two Kraktol woke up from their slumber five hours and six minutes ago, Admiral," Umi replies. "Since you stressed the importance of time and our limited resources, I took the initiative to guide them toward the engine ventilation system. Under my guidance, the two of them have cleaned out approximately 0.0054% of the accumulated debris and waste byproduct. The Bloodbearer will only reach low-operational-status once your crew clears out at least 20% of the oxidization clogging the engines."

    "Mmm. Have those women meet up with me along the way."

    "Orders received. Admiral, I must also mention a severe lack of resources for food production aboard the Bloodbearer. The biomatter storage is currently at 0% after I discarded all the hardened, rotted material. I was able to create some basic ration bars for the Kessu and Kraktol, but their nutritional value was negligible and every officer complained about the taste."

    Jos�� groans. "No food. No engines. No allies. The whole ship is broken. Can''t I get some good news for once?"

    "Affirmative," Umi beeps in response. "The Kessu and Kraktol did not engage in verbal warfare while you were asleep. According to my calculations, this represents an improvement in their relations of 7.5%."

    "...Thanks, Umi." Jos�� says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I don''t know what I would do without you."

    Umi replies with a sugary-sweet tone. "According to my predictive matrix; you would die."

    Jos��''s only reply is a long, low groan.

 Chapter 13: Temporal Mechanics Lesson

    "Admiral!" Soren says, her voice containing a note of alarm. She and Megla trot toward Jos�� as he rolls down the Bloodbearer''s primary connective corridor, arriving at his position after a few moments. "Are you alright? Your body seemed to be heavily injured when I last saw you."

    "I''m dandy," Jos�� grumbles. "Just wonderful."

    The Admiral glances at Megla. He waits for a snarky comeback, only to almost fall out of his chair when she speaks.

    "That''s great, Admiral. I was- I mean, we were really worried about you. We, ah... we thought you wouldn''t make it. I''m glad you''re okay."

    Jos�� blinks several times to make sure he isn''t still sleeping. "You were... concerned? About me?"

    Megla crosses her arms and looks away. "Erm... only a little."

    The Terran shakes his head to try and clear away the cobwebs in his brain. "I see. Well, thank you for your concern. I''m much weaker than before, so I can hardly move on my own. I hope you two will assist me in repairing the Bloodbearer''s systems."

    The Admiral''s gaze falls toward both Kraktol officer''s waists, where steel belts hang with a small assortment of attached repair tools. The two womens'' usually pristine red and yellow scales appear dirty, caked with dirt and grease.

    "Of course, Admiral," Soren says. She walks behind Jos��''s wheelchair and grabs its top handles to push him forward.

    "What are you doing?" Jos�� asks, suspicion in his voice.

    "I don''t believe you should be expending any energy, Admiral. Please allow me to guide you wherever you please. It would be best if you could relax and leave the hard work to my sister and I."

    Before Jos�� can reply, Megla strides over to Soren''s side and huffs. "Kyargh! Let me push the Admiral. I''m sure you''re still tired from sticking your head inside that greasy ventilation duct."

    "No need," Soren says, a faint smile on her face. "I can handle this simple task."

    "I know you can," Megla protests. "But so can I! Hmph, listen to your big sister for once, why don''t you?"

    Soren''s smile widens. "You seem awfully eager to get close to the Admiral."

    "I-I''m not!" Megla yelps, her red scales flushing pink. She takes a step away from Soren with a strange look in her eyes. "I... I just want to help!"

    "Kuhak!" Soren laughs. Her usual stoic demeanor cracks slightly upon seeing her sister''s flustered look. "Something seems to have changed with you, Megla."

    Jos�� sighs. "Ladies. Please. Stop fighting over me like I''m a piece of meat. We don''t have time to waste. I''ll drive myself to the Engine Room. You just walk alongside me and listen. I have a lot of information to relay."

    Both Kraktol women frown for a moment before hiding their emotions. With a sigh, Soren pulls away from Jos�� and raises her palms. "I see. My apologies, Admiral. I did not mean to insult your abilities. You can surely move yourself if necessary."

    The Admiral looks into the disappointed eyes of Soren, before glancing at Megla afterward. Both of them appear miffed that he would ignore their genuine, heartfelt offers.

    However, Jos�� ignores their silly behavior.

    "Come along. I want to examine the engine room''s condition for myself."

    Soren lowers her head. "Yes, Admiral..."

    "Do what you want," Megla snorts, her annoyance plain as day. She crosses her arms and walks beside Jos�� on his left, while Soren walks on his right. They begin heading toward the engine room at a pace neither too fast, nor too slow.

    An awkward silence ensues. After a few minutes, Jos�� clears his throat. "Did Umi explain the mechanics of a Triple-Induction Drive to either of you?"

    Soren shakes her head. "No. We asked several questions, but the synthmind did not answer. She only guided us on the cleaning and repair process for the engine exhaust vents."

    From above, Umi speaks. "Admiral. Given the two Kraktol are newly acquired crew-members, and given their origins, I have registered them as ''initiate crew.'' Unless you remove the restriction on Class 4 information and below, I will be unable to provide them with information regarding this ship''s features or technical blueprints. Based upon the information I''ve collected from the Dragon Breath''s databases, the galaxy at large is unaware of the capabilities of technology beyond the 35th Era. Very few factions possess ships from later than the 30th era, so I have calculated that classifying this information as Top Secret is a prudent move."

    Jos�� nods. "I agree. However, Soren and Megla are now officers of this vessel. In the future, please provide them with any general information of Class 3 and below as their knowledge-base evolves. I''ll evaluate the rest on a case-by-case basis."

    The Admiral speaks openly with Umi right in front of the Kraktol, allowing both of them to hear his words. They glance at each other out of the corners of their eyes and sigh.

    The Admiral doesn''t trust us. Given he hasn''t known us for even a day, that''s to be expected.

    ...

    It doesn''t take long before Jos�� and the Kraktol arrive at the entrance to the Bloodbearer''s Engine Bay. Its entry doors, barely maintained by one of the six Filth Expunger Units over the past 100,000,000 years, slowly slide open. The top and bottom squeal in a most annoying manner due to a large amount of rust accumulation, but the three officers ignore the awful sound.

    Jose arrives inside a large, circular chamber, easily twice as big as an open-air football stadium. In the center of the room, three giant circular metal platforms sit next to one another in a triangular formation. They hum with energy, causing the air inside the room to vibrate and rattle all three officers'' teeth.

    A force-field twenty meters tall rises toward the ceiling above each platform, where a second set of platforms on the roof meet the field and keep its power circulating to form its protective membrane. Inside the heavily shielded matrices, three giant orbs of explosive-looking plasma rapidly whirl around, revealing themselves to be the cause of the intense, energetic humming sensation.

    Hundreds of thick, Terran-body-width cables stick out of the walls and slink along the ground, connecting to the platforms on the floor, but also the ceiling. They suck the leftover energy from the orbs away to power the rest of the ship, preventing them from detonating with high-yield nuclear explosions.

    Countless robotic arms, long-since rusted-over, stick out of the engine room''s walls. Only twenty or so move around and poke at the various computer consoles scattered throughout the room, but it appears clear to Jos�� and the Kraktol that this room is just as decayed and dilapidated as the rest of the ship.

    "Damn..." Jos�� mutters. "Even more things to repair. The work never ends. The inventor of bio-fusion once claimed his power sources would remain stable for a billion years, so I guess he was proven right in the end. The rest of the ship is likely to break long before the reactors lose their charge."

    Soren gestures toward the far wall. "The synthmind had us clean the ventilation ducts over there. I only scraped out out the interiors of the first five, but more than a hundred remain."

    Nodding, Jos�� says, "Yes, but cleaning the engine ventilation ducts is only the first step. We also need to clean and maintain the plasma warp conduits, then exit the ship and decalcify the exterior engines. Beyond that, we have to examine the damage this sector''s plasma storm has likely caused the Bloodbearer''s hull. If there are any breaches on the exterior, we must seal them up before entering Folded Space."

    Soren''s eyes flash with hunger. "Admiral, didn''t you tell us you were going to explain the Triple Induction Drive and Folded Space? I''m dying to know more."

    Jos�� smiles.

    "Oh, yes. I had almost forgotten! Haha, your thirst for knowledge is quite admirable."

    The Terran wheels toward one of the many nearby broken computer consoles. He gestures toward Megla''s toolbelt, prompting her to step closer. Despite the weakness in his body and his atrophied limbs, his shaking and trembling appears to have mostly worn off since resting, so he easily snatches three odd-looking pen-gadgets from her before turning to the console.

    Whirr. Bzzt.

    Despite the weakness in his arms, Admiral Rodriguez manipulates Megla''s tools at a steady but slow pace. He gets to work repairing the first computer console inside the Bloodbearer''s engine bay with a clinical, dispassionate look.

    "To understand the concept behind a Triple-Induction Drive, you first have to understand the concepts involved with achieving galactic travel, as well as the limitations of Terran technology, at least by the 50th Era. Are either of you familiar with the nine types of FTL?"

    "Faster than light travel?" Soren asks. She glances at her sister for a moment before returning her gaze to the wheelchair-bound Terran. "I am aware of a few different methods to achieve faster than light travel... but I am not an expert in the field."

    "That''s fine," Jos�� says. "Just tell me what you know so I can establish a baseline for your knowledge."

    Soren folds her slender, scaled arms behind her back. "Yes, Admiral. I have seen several Warp Drives in person, as well as one of the functional Subspace Cannons the Mallali control. From a distance, of course. I''ve never been able to use one, given how the Mallali protect them with fanatical zeal, but I know they use some method to ''shoot'' ships toward other sectors at FTL speeds. Also, I remember hearing Orgon mention Jump Gates once, but I haven''t any idea how they function."

    Jos�� nods, than looks at Megla. "And you?"

    Megla laughs. "Kyargh! I''ve heard of those things, too. However, I got to ride aboard a smuggling vessel once, several hundred years ago. We sneaked through the Arbiter Jump Gate in Avaru space and traveled halfway across the galaxy instantly. I couldn''t tell you how it worked, but I still found the experience enthralling."

    The Admiral turns away from Megla and resumes working on the computer console. He cleans out the dust inside of it, caused by its decomposed glass panel, then starts reassembling its inner pieces.

    "It seems both of you are largely ignorant about the nine methods of FTL used by my people. Soren, you mentioned the use of ''Warp Drives.'' Do you know what a Warp Drive is?"

    Soren nods, but the motion comes slow and haltingly due to her hesitation. "Ahem, ah, I believe so... Admiral, but based on your tone, perhaps not."

    "Explain them to me," Jos�� says, his voice calm.

    "Warp Drives function by accelerating the ship to extreme speeds via usage of exotic Trifrancium or Dilithium particles. Trifrancium, naturally is the more energy efficient and powerful of the two. It also possesses the ability to regenerate itself over time, provided the vessel does not drain its reserves too quickly. Unfortunately, if the ship uses up too much of its Trifrancium reserves, the exotic won''t regenerate itself."

    Seeing a smile appear on the Admiral''s face, Soren becomes flustered. "A... Admiral. Did I speak incorrectly? I may not know much about Subspace Cannons or Jump Gates, but I''m reasonably confident in my basic knowledge regarding Warp Drives."

    "Haha, you''re fine," Jos�� says, his smile growing fainter. "It''s just, what you described was a Hyperdrive, not a Warp Drive."

    Both Kraktol look at each other with confused expressions. "Hyperdrive? Isn''t that just another word for the same thing?" Megla asks.

    Jos�� snaps a few internal components back into place inside the engine bay''s computer terminal. "Not at all, but given how technology has regressed over the last hundred million years, as well as knowledge of its internal functions, I suppose it''s natural you wouldn''t know that."

    After clearing his throat, Jos�� explains further.

    "Humanity always had a thirst to explore the stars. By the time of my era, we had already colonized seven galaxies. Traveling between stars is nowhere near as complex as traveling from the Milky Way to Andromeda. The amount of space between galaxies is tens, hundreds, and even thousands of times greater than the width of galaxies themselves. Naturally, we required tremendous resources to bridge those gaps in reasonable amounts of time."

    A popping sound from the Admiral''s repair work interrupts him, but he continues afterward.

    "What I am about to tell you was common knowledge in my era. However, I suspect that it is highly confidential information today and worth countless credits. Information is power. Should we ever separate, I''m sure you''ll make a fortune just by understanding this simple information."

    "You mentioned nine types of FTL travel," Soren says. "How can there be so many?"

    "There are far more than nine," Jos�� says, "but these nine were the most ubiquitous and well-known, for various reasons. Some factions, such as the Void Roamers or Orion Corps, possessed secretive methods of traversing the stars that only their factions could use. I am not aware of their specifics, so I can''t go into any details. Essentially, to understand the nine travel methods, you have to understand a few basic truths about time and space."

    Jos�� raises his index finger. "Number one: Time and space are not constant. Powerful, energetic anomalies, such as black holes, can bend one or both. Time can accelerate or decelerate, while space can expand or contract. We humans used this knowledge to our advantage in various ways."

    He lifts a second finger. "Number two: Traveling great distances, especially lightyears, requires a vast amount of time, energy, and resources. Sometimes, you can cut down the amount of time needed to travel somewhere, but it will require many more resources. Often, if you lack money, you can cheapen travel at the sake of time. Civilians usually had less money and resources than the military, and so, they would use more frugal methods."

    The Admiral raises one more finger. "Number three: In addition to time, resources, and money, sometimes a travel method would come with a much higher risk of danger compared to others. Seven of the nine methods I''m about to describe were among the safest and most reliable ways to traverse the Void. Even then, when dealing with the amount of energy required to travel throughout galaxies, there would always be a small risk of catastrophes happening."

    Admiral Rodriguez lowers his hand. "Finally, and perhaps most importantly, you can''t ever underestimate the power of biological nature. I heard rumors of several advanced FTL systems that never got off the ground due to political meddling, greedy competitors, and jealous scientists. If a scientist from my faction, Ramma''s Chosen, wanted to create a tenth ubiquitous FTL travel method, it would happen more often than not that someone else in our faction might assassinate him, steal his data, and take it to a competitor for a huge payout. Thus, the information would become proprietary and end up locked away to rot inside some damned vault."

    At the last point, Megla nods knowingly. "I do not know how you Terrans functioned as a society, but given you shared the same innate biology, I must presume you acted at least a little better toward each other than the myriad of species within the Milky Way today. The Mallali would stop at nothing to prevent the Rodaks from acquiring new technology. Similarly, we would never give up a chance to make them suffer."

    The Terran pauses his repair task for a moment, as a distant look appears in his eyes. "...Some things never change."

    "Admiral?"

    "Nothing," Jos�� mutters, before returning to his work. Already, half of the console appears restored to its previous condition, thanks to the restructuring of its internal components.

    "There are two primary types of FTL implementations," Jos�� says. "Installations, and ship-based travel. Installations include Jump Gates and Subspace Cannons, while ship-based travel involves Warp Drives, Hyperdrives, and other such types of engines. Sadly, it seems you''ve lost the knowledge of these methods to the annals of time, but luckily, I can inform you of their basic functionality."

    "First," Jos�� continues, "we''ll start with what you already know, Hyperdrives. These were actually one of the first travel methods invented, well within the confines of the First Era. However, at the time, humanity had to steal this technology from the Volgrim, aliens who threatened our existence, therefore it took us a while to analyze and ''perfect'' the technology to fit our needs. Hyperdrives function by consuming a massive amount of energy and discharging it from their rear to travel through space at extremely high speeds. Essentially, the more energy they consume, the faster they can travel."

    "However, there are several issues with Hyperdrives. Dilithium is quite plentiful, but it only allows the ships to travel at a maximum speed of Warp Six. This speed is quite slow and not suitable for moving across thousands of lightyears in a relatively fast manner. For inner-system travel, or for travel between nearby star systems, it''s more than adequate."

    Megla raises her hand. "I don''t understand. You said before that Hyperdrives were not Warp Drives. But, if that''s the case, then why would Hyperdrives travel at ''Warp Speed''?"

    "Warp Speed is merely a measurement of velocity," Jos�� replies. "The details are a bit technical, but I''ll try to explain. If a ship travels at ''Lightspeed'', then that means it moves through space at a relative velocity of 188,000 miles per second, or, 300,000 kilometers per second. Warp One is 2x the speed of light. Warp Two is 6x, Warp Three is 24x, Warp Four is 120x, Warp Five is 720x, Warp Six is 5,040x, and so on."

    The Admiral continues. "Warp Six is certainly fast. However, Warp Seven is a qualitative change in speed which allows one to traverse the galaxy without wasting large amounts of time. It took several millennia before humans were able to secure the power source known as Trifrancium, which enabled us to more readily break past the Warp Six barrier. Megla, how far is it from our current position to one of the Mallali Core Worlds. One of their capitals, for instance?"

    Megla shrugs. "From here to Iunus, that''s roughly 14,000 Light-years."

    "Fourteen thousand. That is quite a distance," Jos�� nods. "At Warp Three, it would take you nearly 600 years to travel there. At Warp Five, only twenty years. At Warp Six, three years. And Warp Seven? Roughly half a year."

    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    Soren nods. "We know about the differences in warp speeds, Admiral. Where are you going with this?"

    Jos�� adjusts the setting on his repair tool. Pieces of glass begin to form as he reconstructs the final, outer layer of the engine room''s computer terminal.

    "As I said before, Warp Speed is merely a measure of relative velocity. However, time dilation is a completely different aspect of FTL travel. People who use a Hyperdrive to travel do not experience time dilation. One minute at warp speed is one minute in the outside universe."

    The Admiral pauses his repair to draw a line through the air. "It takes me one second to move my finger from here to here. If I move my finger extremely fast, I can cover an even greater distance in that same one-second span. However, due to the speed of light, the universe begins slowing down the faster and faster I move my hand. If my mind can keep up with my finger, it may feel for me as if only one second has passed, but for the outside world, it might only be a fraction of a second. This is, essentially, time dilation."

    After lowering his arm, Jos�� gets to work on the last section of the terminal''s repair.

    "Time dilation is a serious problem in temporal mechanics. Traveling backward is time is theoretically possible, but generally, one can only move at the same rate of time as in normal space, or slower, or faster. Moving in reverse is usually out of the question."

    "Hyperdrives have a time dilation ratio of 1:1. If we leave this plasma storm and travel to Iunus at Warp 7, we would perceive the amount of time it takes for us to reach there as about 127 days. Similarly, the residents of the Milky Way would see us disappear from our current position and reappear in Iunus''s space 127 days later. Therefore, we would neither lose, nor gain time relative to the galaxy."

    "The advantages of a Hyperdrive include an extremely high maximum speed, zero time dilation, and their relative inexpensiveness compared to other ship-based FTL methods. However, the downside comes in that the fuel needed to achieve high speeds, Trifrancium, is difficult to acquire and quite rare. Entire wars were fought to acquire Trifrancium deposits, even in my era, so the fact that Trifrancium-based drives have become the most common form of warp travel in this period is either alarming, or comforting."

    Megla nods.

    "We still fight over acquiring Trifrancium, Admiral. I don''t know how rare it is compared to your time, but it''s certainly not common."

    "That''s unfortunate," Jos�� mutters. "In any case, now that I''ve explained the basic nature of FTL travel and Hyperdrives, I''ll move on to the next type of well-known engine: The Warp-Drive."

    Soren fidgets uncomfortably. "Th-the one I mislabeled."

    "It''s not your fault," Jos�� reassures her. "Warp Drives are essentially identical to Hyperdrives in function. They both work by propelling the ship through space at warp speeds. The difference is, Warp Drives can run entirely off Dilithium and don''t require Trifrancium to achieve speeds greater than Warp Six."

    Megla and Soren both widen their eyes. "They don''t require Trifrancium?! That... that sort of technology would change everything!"

    Jos�� chuckles. "There are a few fundamental differences between them, though. Warp Drives do not require Trifrancium, and they do have a time dilation of 1:1 just like Hyperdrives, but they do not merely accelerate toward their destination. Instead, Warp Drives create a ''bubble'' of highly volatile ''warp energy'' around their vessels. This bubble pushes aside the fabric of space, allowing them to accelerate to speeds well beyond what Dilithium might normally achieve by cutting through subspace."

    "To illustrate, imagine driving down a road covered in several-feet-high snowbanks. You would have to push forward slowly to get to your destination. Hyperdrives function by giving you an aerodynamic vehicle with a pointed front capable of cutting through the snow quickly, thus increasing your speed, while Warp Drives function by having a snow-plow drive ahead of you and clear the path. You have to expend less energy to achieve the same speed as the former."

    The Kraktol, both familiar with low-tech wheel-based vehicles, nod in unison.

    "That makes sense," Megla says. "So the reason Warp Drives can travel quickly with lower quality fuel is due to their efficiency. But why doesn''t everyone use them, if that''s the case? They sound much better than Hyperdrives."

    "Warp bubbles themselves are the issue," Jos�� says. "Warp Drives are extremely volatile and dangerous. When attacked by pirates, raiders, or Void Roamers, the victims would often detonate due to Warp Core breaches. Warp Cores could also detonate during FTL travel if they passed through certain rare space phenomena. As such, Warp Drives were only used by people traveling short distances with low-value goods that pirates wouldn''t desire."

    The Admiral clears his throat. "I''m almost done with this console. Give me a moment."

    He quickly finishes repairing the engine room''s computer console. When the last bit of plexiglass covers its front, the panel lights up with all sorts of colorful graphics related to the engine''s performance.

    "Hyperdrives and Warp Drives were ubiquitous due to their speed, efficiency, and lack of time dilation. In terms of commonly recommended travel methods, most people would choose them over anything else if given the chance. However, the former was more of a tool for wealthy merchants, while the latter was used by the common rabble. The same is true of the next two travel methods I''ll discuss: Folded Space, and Inverted Space."

    Jos�� pushes the computer console''s chair out of the way and rolls his wheelchair toward it. With a flurry of hand motions, he changes the screen from displaying results about the engine room to a visual overlay titled, Folded Space 101.

    "Folded Space and Inverted Space are essentially the same concept. The former was commonly used by every society''s military and transport economies, while the latter was mostly used by smugglers and people who wanted to keep a low profile. To illustrate, imagine that you have a long, straight line. This line represents the distance you need to travel."

    The Terran keys in a space-map from the Bloodbearer''s current position to Iunus, the planet Megla mentioned before. "If we travel to Iunus at Warp Seven with a Hyperdrive or Warp Drive, it will take us 127 days to reach the planet. However, by entering folded space, we can finally put the mechanics of time dilation into play. Observe."

    The long, straight line on his screen bends the end of one of its tips around to touch the other end, forming a shape reminiscent of a tear-drop.

    "Folding Space means pulling our destination closer to ourselves. We can traverse the gap from here to Iunus instantly, requiring very little resources compared to a Hyperdrive or Warp Drive-based engine. We accomplish this by bending space around the Bloodbearer and folding it around ourselves countless times. Once the fold completes, we arrive at Iunus and pat ourselves on the back."

    Soren nods slowly. A look of awe appears on her face, but it intermingles with worry. "This travel method sounds incredible... but surely it has a downside."

    "Kyargh!" Megla crows. "The Admiral said it himself! We would travel to Iunus instantly! 14,000 lightyears, just like that!"

    "Ahaha, Soren is right," Jos�� says, waggling a finger. "I said that we would travel there instantly. Folded Space features unbelievable amounts of time dilation. While it might take us 127 days to reach Iunus at Warp Five, we would perceive the travel time as only one second inside our ship by using Folded Space, but in the outside galaxy, tens, if not hundreds or thousands of years would pass. That is the downside of Folded Space. For you, the time passes in an instant. However, your friends and family would die of old age in the time it took you to reach your destination."

    Soren and Megla''s expressions become glum.

    "That''s not very useful at all..." Megla mutters. "It sounds much slower than Hyperdrive travel."

    "Yes," Jos�� nods. "But the technology behind Folded Space mechanics is cheap and easy to manufacture. It''s also relatively safe, with few recorded accidents, and little overhead for even the poorest of warp-capable civilizations to manage. Of course, that''s only the first implementation of Folded Space. The second is exactly the opposite in terms of time dilation!"

    He continues. "Inverted Space allows you to instantly traverse anywhere in the galaxy, nay, even the universe. From the perspective of the outside universe, we might disappear from this plasma storm and arrive at Iunus one second later."

    "Let me guess," Soren says. "Inside the ship, hundreds of years would pass."

    "That''s right," Jos�� answers. "Therefore, one would surely perish ages before they reached their destination. However, humanity created stasis sleep for the explicit purpose of keeping people alive during Inverted Space travel. That brings me to the current day."

    Suddenly, Jos�� goes quiet.

    A strange look appears in his eyes as he sighs.

    "Um. This is a bit hard to talk about."

    "Admiral?" Soren says. "What... what''s wrong?"

    Jos�� shakes his head. "I entered stasis because the entire crew of the Bloodbearer was on a trip to one of our remote starbases. We''d done it a thousand times. By stepping in the stasis pods and having the computer enter Inverted Space, time would pass instantly for us and for the outside galaxy. It was how most military vessels traveled the cosmos. But then, I awoke to find that everyone... everyone was dead."

    A short silence follows.

    The Admiral stares at the engine room''s console with a blank look on his face. Flickers of emotion travel across his face, but he quickly suppresses them.

    "I''m... I''m sorry. It''s just been a little hard on me. Haha."

    Megla stares at the wheelchair-bound Admiral for a moment or two. Eventually, she rests her clawed hand on his shoulder. "Admiral. If you need to talk..."

    "No, I''m fine," Jos�� says, shrugging her hand away. "I''ll get over it."

    Megla opens her mouth to reply, but closes it a moment later, unsure of what to say.

    Jos�� clears his throat. "Where was I? Oh, uh, right. Folded Space."

    He blanks out for another moment or two before tapping the console again.

    "...Aside from Hyperdrives, Warp Drives, and the two methods of Folded Space, there are five remaining methods of FTL travel. The rest of these are less practical, but they have their uses."

    An image of a small, needle-shaped starship appears on the computer console. At its front, a massive array of solar panels folds outward, looking like a pointed ice-cream-cone.

    "Solar Sails. These were extremely inexpensive payload delivery systems used by many corporations. Due to their small size and extreme speed velocities, humans never rode them. They functioned without any internal FTL systems. Instead, the solar sails, when unfurled, would soak up the energy of a nearby star for several decades, and once the batteries filled with pure solar energy, the ship would launch itself to its destination and arrive instantly. The warm-up period before launch would also give the corporations time to load important cargo aboard, but the size of these vessels left them with limited storage space. Several companies used these devices for non-time-intensive purposes."

    "Impractical," Megla mutters.

    Soren doesn''t reply.

    "Next, we have Subspace Cannons," Jos�� says. "You''re both aware of these, but I''ll elaborate on the details. Unlike all of the previously mentioned FTL methods, these are ''installation based'' and not ''ship-based.'' Subspace Cannons are the cheapest of the installation-based methods, but they come with a lot of restrictions. They work by firing small vessels toward distant destinations at FTL speeds, allowing ships without FTL drives to traverse the cosmos. The first downside is that the ships will slow down rapidly, so the range of a Subspace Cannon is only a few hundred lightyears. The second is that in order to propel bigger vessels, one must increase the size of the Subspace Cannon, and therefore, its cost. Usually, Subspace Cannons were used to transport small, low-cost civilian vessels between neighboring systems, and that was about it."

    The women both nod, but it seems clear they''ve heard at least a little about the Subspace Cannons, therefore, they don''t ask any questions.

    Jos�� taps on the console, bringing up an image of a gigantic metal circle hovering in space. The center of the circle features a shimmering black vortex, sparkling with randomly twinkling starlight.

    "The second and final installation-based system is the Jump Gate. These are among the most expensive and fought-over technological marvels created by humanity. They are truly incredible feats of engineering, allowing ships to traverse any distance in space instantly. In order to use a Jump Gate, you must actually construct two gates: One on your end, and one at your intended travel destination. Construction of these colossal structures takes hundreds of years and costs tens of trillions of monetary-chits. Once complete, you must then point both gates at each other from the host and destination gates, then wait many hundreds or even thousands of years for them to establish a connection. After all of those factors conclude, the Jump Gates will form a permanent spatial bond, allowing ships to ''step through'' from one end to the other."

    Soren''s heart all but leaps out of her chest. "Amazing! The design and building costs are unthinkable, but if they truly allow one to travel anywhere in the cosmos, then, couldn''t you travel between galaxies with them?!"

    Jos�� smiles. "Yes. That''s exactly right. At the peak of the 50th Era, humanity had constructed seventy-two Jump Gates throughout the Milky Way. They were heavily guarded and fought over. Bitter wars constantly occurred as factions fought for control of the immense resources they could bring. A faction which controlled both ends of a Jump Gate from the Milky Way to one of the other six controlled galaxies could rake in immense, never-ending profits. They could instantly jump to Andromeda without delay. They could bring over galaxy-specific creatures, aliens, and resources, all without the time and resource wasting of the previously mentioned FTL methods."

    Once Jos�� finishes speaking, Soren''s ecstatic expression darkens.

    "I''ve only heard of Jump Gates in passing. Given everything you''ve said, I can''t help but wonder why I only know of one Jump Gates'' specific location. Might most of them be destroyed?"

    "Possibly," Jos�� replies. He leans back in his wheelchair and rubs his eyes. "I don''t know. Anyone who located a Jump Gate would be a fool to tell others about its existence. Perhaps they''re still all out there, claimed in secret by factions with ulterior motives. More likely than not, however, they''ve decayed and collapsed. Jump Gates have one other major downside... they degrade very quickly due to the connection between each other. The universe expands every second, so one must perform regular maintenance on a Jump Gate, lest both of them collapse under shifting gravimetric forces."

    After a half-second, Jos�� continues.

    "The methods I''ve told you about before were seven of the nine most well-known methods for traversing the cosmos. However, these final two were considered extremely dangerous. I do not recommend you ever research them, or you will likely suffer a terrible catastrophe."

    Jos�� taps the computer panel to bring up an image of a singularity floating in the void.

    "This is a wormhole. Wormholes are rare spatial anomalies you can find throughout the cosmos. Entering them is always inadvisable. You might travel one hundred million lightyears away and end up stranded in a foreign galaxy, or you might travel directly into a Red Giant''s core. However, there was a famous scientist who created an emergency tactical maneuver that almost any ship could use to summon a wormhole intentionally. These ''false wormholes'' have a thirty percent chance of collapsing when you enter, killing everyone aboard the ship. They also cannot be aimed toward any specific destination... so their only useful purpose is to try and escape the grasp of pirates."

    "I can see why you''d advise against summoning one," Soren says.

    "Kyargh! Not for me, no thanks!" Megla laughs.

    A sad look appears on Jos��''s face. "If you hate that, then you will definitely hate this final travel method. Every single human alive voted to ban it in the 6th Era. Usage of this final, ninth type of FTL travel method, was considered a war crime. Any civilization caught developing or using it would be slaughtered without restraint by the others."

    With a motion of his hands, Jos�� summons an image of a small ship amidst the blackened void.

    "This final travel method is known as Dark Matter Propulsion. In my era, knowledge of its existence was only taught to members of the various factions'' militaries, and purely to know how to spot it. We were never taught how to replicate its effects, nor the inner details of how it functioned. Our knowledge was purely theoretical, so that is all I will tell you."

    Jos�� looks at Soren. "But first, Officer Soren, what is Dark Matter? Tell me what you know about it."

    Soren nods. "Dark Matter is the substance which comprises 99.9% of our universe. I''ve read about it in my engineering manuals, but I don''t know the specifics of how it works, only that it''s directly responsible for the universe''s expansion."

    "That''s right," Jos�� says, smiling. "Dark Matter is everywhere. You might not be aware of this, but the only reason the speed of light caps out at 300,000 kilometers per second is because of Dark Matter. Remember the analogy I gave earlier of the snow-covered road?"

    Soren frowns. "Yes. Why?"

    "Dark Matter is much like that road. Dark matter seems formless and weightless, but that is only because life in the universe has adapted to its constant, never-ending pressure. Hyperdrive ships force their way through the Dark Matter, and Warp Drives clear the immediate path in front of themselves. However, Dark Matter Propulsion is very different. It functions like a massive, molten railgun. The ship equipped with a Dark Matter Propulsion system detonates the Dark Matter ahead of itself for a single instant, clearing a straight line to its target destination, and while the Dark Matter from the universe is momentarily shoved aside, it slips through that micron-thin gap and instantly travels to its target star system. No time dilation. No speed limits. The cost is cheap, and the risk to your ship is nonexistent."

    "What''s the catch?" Megla asks, crossing her arms. "It sounds too good to be true."

    Soren''s face turns pale.

    "Oh... oh, galaxies... Admiral, if I''m not wrong, and I certainly hope I am..."

    Jos�� nods. "Go on."

    "...Shoving aside the dark matter to instantly travel to your destination; would that not cause incredible subspace fluctuations? That''s a disaster waiting to happen!"

    Admiral Rodriguez falls silent.

    After a moment...

    ...he sighs.

    "You should give yourself more credit, Soren. You intuitively understand that tearing through Dark Matter in such a brutal fashion would cause a catastrophe, and you''re correct. It would, it could, and it did."

    Jos�� turns to the computer console. He taps a button, causing an animation to play of a miniature spaceship firing a Dark Matter Eraser Cannon. For a split-second, the void in front of it parts and the ship races through, while closing up immediately afterward.

    However, the animation pans outward to show a powerful shockwave rocketing outward from the laser''s trajectory in every direction.

    "Dark Matter Propulsion creates a subspace impact wave that travels for tens of lightyears in every direction. Any stars impacted by the wave will hyper-ignite, often leading to multiple concurrent supernovas. After their invention, fifteen different ships launched via Dark Matter Propulsion. Altogether, they destroyed more than fifty star systems. Trillions of humans perished before the inventor committed suicide out of guilt at the horrors he''d unleashed. Afterward, we banned this method of FTL travel, forever."

    The Admiral swipes across the screen to turn it off.

    "That concludes my explanation of the nine most well-known methods of FTL travel. Naturally, two of them are not recommended, and the others have all manner of costs and benefits. Any questions?"

    "Is Dark Matter really the thing limiting our exploration of the cosmos?" Soren asks. "The way you describe it, you make it sound as if we could move thousands of times faster than the speed of light if Dark Matter wasn''t in our way."

    Admiral Rodriguez nods. "It''s exactly as you say. Because of the constant pressure Dark Matter places on particles like light, we have to find ways to work around it. If you were to somehow erase all of the Dark Matter from the universe, we would immediately experience a tremendous boost in speed and strength. You would be able to lift this spaceship without trouble and run hundreds of times faster than ever before. Theoretically, of course. Conversely, Dark Matter keeps the universe expanding, so without it, the universe would begin contracting toward a central origin point. Within a few billion years, we would undo the Big Bang."

    "The what?" Megla asks.

    "...Let''s not get into that," Jos�� chuckles.

    Megla nods. "Moving on, you told us about all those different types of FTL, but what did any of that have to do with the Bloodbearer''s Triple-Induction Drive?"

    "I''m glad you asked."

    Jos�� points toward the three circular platforms in the center of the engine room, their rapidly spinning bio-fusion energy orbs, and the force fields enclosing said orbs.

    "Even in my era, most ships were only able to use one form of FTL. For example, a ship might have a Hyperdrive or a Warp Drive or it could use one of the two types of Folded Space travel methods. However, there were a small minority of military vessels, or ships owned by rich politicians, powerful moguls, and so on. Those vessels could use two types of FTL. As an example, they might have a Hyperdrive and an Inverted Space-drive. What makes the Bloodbearer a true rarity is..."

    The Admiral trails off and looks at Soren meaningfully. Her eyes sparkle with recognition as the sides of her mouth curl into a smile. "The Bloodbearer has three types of FTL available."

    "That''s right, again," Jos�� replies. "This ship has a Warp Drive, but also the ability to enter Folded and Inverted Space. Three types of FTL. As a war vessel, it was cutting edge, even among other 50th Era vessels."

    Jos�� touches the controls on his wheelchair. He pulls away from the console and rolls toward the engines, all three of them humming energetically.

    "Soren, Megla. Since I sent Orgon''s fleet scurrying home, how far would they have to travel, and how long would it take them to arrive?"

    "Well," Megla responds, "assuming they decided to head to Dragua, the Kraktol homeworld, they would have to travel around 700 lightyears."

    Soren nods. "They will likely report directly to the Th��lvik. Since you erased their memories and databanks, it''s unlikely they will be able to report the status of this vessel."

    "I see," Jos�� mutters. "And how far is the Kessu homeworld from this plasma cloud?"

    "About fifty lightyears," Megla says. "We didn''t pursue the Kessu far before they sought refuge here."

    The Admiral taps his finger rhythmically on his chair''s arm.

    "Assuming your former crew travel at Warp Six, it will take them a little under two months to make it home. If your leader takes immediate action and decides to attack the Kessu homeworld, it will be another two months before they return. Therefore, I will estimate that we only have three months to repair the Bloodbearer''s engines. Once we enter Inverted Space, we will have plenty of time afterward to repair other internal systems."

    Soren smiles. "I see. Admiral, that''s quite clever."

    "Hm?" Megla grunts. "What is? Did I miss something?"

    "Inverted Space will give us several additional weeks to repair the Bloodbearer''s internal systems," Soren says. "We have to repair the engines to working order within three months, but thanks to time dilation, once we enter Inverted Space, the fifty-lightyear trip to the Kessu homeworld will give us the opportunity to repair other systems."

    "Soren, excellent observational skills, as always," Jos�� says. "Once we enter Inverted Space, the few-hour trip to the Kessu homeworld will extend to another few weeks. I can somewhat control the level of dilation this vessel experiences, so I will stretch it to its highest level. With any luck, we can evacuate all of the remaining Kessu from their homeworld and put them aboard the Bloodbearer. We''ll also take the initiative to absorb biomatter for our internal storage, and obtain plenty of fresh new crewman who can help bring the Bloodbearer to tip-top shape."

    The red-scaled Kraktol frowns. "What use will a bunch of primitive Kessu be? There''s only so much they can clean."

    "Megla, you don''t need to worry about that. I have ways to make every crew member useful. With a ship in as bad of condition as the Bloodbearer, I will find plenty of work for everyone to do. Speaking of which..."

    Jos�� spends the next several minutes pointing out various aspects of the engine room. He indicates all of the problem areas and gives them a quick rundown on how to use some of the advanced functions of their repair tools.

    "...And afterward, you''ll want to ensure the coolant manifold stays in sync with the desired temperature ratios. Did you get all of that?"

    Megla shrugs. "Somewhat."

    Soren nods. "If she misses anything, I''ll remind her."

    "Good, good. You two are the most advanced minds aboard this ship. I hope I''ll be able to count on you in the future. Now, if you''ll excuse me, I need to find the Kessu. You have your orders, and I''ll give them theirs."

    "Of course, Admiral," Soren nods.

    Megla appears less enthusiastic. "Sigh. You get to roll around in a wheelchair while we scrape off the hardened plasma gunk."

    "Trust me," Jos�� says, his smile fading away. "I don''t enjoy being helpless."

    As the Admiral turns and wheels away, Megla smacks herself in the head. Under her breath, she mutters, "Stupid. Can''t believe I said that. I''m such an idiot."

    Jos�� pretends not to hear, swallowing a chuckle as the engine room doors close behind him.

    "Umi. I''ve changed my mind. Allow the Kraktol access to Class 4 information and below. I''m starting to like them."

    "Orders confirmed, Admiral."

 Chapter 14: The Bloodbearers Food Crisis

    Admiral Jos�� Rodriguez, the last living human in the galaxy, slowly rolls away from the Bloodbearer''s engine room in a wheelchair while contemplating his existence. The vessel''s dulled exosteel hallways don''t shine like they used to, nor do the distant sounds of people walking and talking reach his ears. Despite a hundred million years passing in the galaxy outside, the time Jos�� experienced could only be described as instantaneous. No matter where he sweeps his eyes, the Terran finds himself growing increasingly gloomier the more he adjusts to his new reality.

    Jos�� rolls past a food court, its empty and barren tables only further reminding him of the friends he''s lost, the comrades he''ll never see again. Not long after, a workout and training center appears on his left, its equipment broken down and rusted after eons of degradation.

    Ten minutes after leaving the engine room, Jos�� slows his wheelchair to a stop.

    To the Admiral''s left, a pair of giant, double-doors loom.

    The entrance to the stasis facility.

    The burial ground for all of the Terrans who once roamed the Bloodbearer''s hallways.

    Now, their bodies slowly decay inside of stasis pods. Unaware of their deaths, the occupants of every pod quietly passed away in their sleep millions of years ago, leaving Jos�� as the sole survivor.

    The Admiral stares at the great doors for several seconds. Eventually, he slumps his head forward and closes his eyes.

    Why did I survive when no-one else did? Why couldn''t I have perished along with the rest?

    Is my current existence... a punishment?

    Did the Creator bring me back, all so he could laugh at my plight?

    Admiral Rodriguez ruminates in silence while gazing at the double doors. Eventually, Umi speaks, interrupting his thoughts.

    "Admiral. You have not moved from your position for more than five minutes. Is there a technical matter I can assist you with solving?"

    Jos�� leans his left elbow on the wheelchair''s arm, and the side of his face in his palm. "...Not particularly. Umi, I, ah... I need to ask a question. It''s about the possible ways we can handle the deaths of the Bloodbearer''s crew."

    Umi beeps in response. "Affirmative. I believe the most efficient use of their remains is to supply the biological matter reactor. Given the Bloodbearer''s current lack of sustenance for its remaining crew-"

    "Gods, no!" Jos�� yells, his face turning grey. "Gah! What sort of sick- Umi, never suggest something so horrible again! What is the MATTER with you?!"

    "My apologies, Admiral. I did not take into account your personal feelings about the deceased crew-members. Biological entities often have emotional attachments to other formerly reactive biological entities. Due to the degradation of my core processors, I have lost access to my emotion chips, and thus, my knowledge regarding the nuances of Terran superstition."

    Jos�� closes his eyes. "...Superstition. The things a bloody synthmind can say. Never mind. I''ll handle the funerals for my former crewmembers later. I don''t have the mental strength to do it right now."

    Without another word, Jos�� continues on his way, driving past the stasis chamber like a man who''s seen a ghost.

    It doesn''t take long before the Admiral finally arrives at the officer''s quarters near the front of the ship, located not far from the Bridge. When he arrives, a tiny little Kessu girl sitting with her back to a wall spots him from afar. The child immediately jumps to her feet and toddles over.

    "Mister Precursor is back!" The child yells. She runs up to Jos��''s wheelchair and bounces excitedly. "Ohmygosh, are you okay Mister Precursor? Why are you so skinny? What''s this wheelie-thingy? Why aren''t you walking around?"

    The child babbles incessantly, but for some unknown reason, Jos�� finds himself smiling without intending to. "Ah, I remember you. You''re Lele, the one who yapped at Megla. You ask a lot of questions, kiddo."

    Admiral Rodriguez pats the little girl''s head, making her only further intensify her questions. "Seriously, are you okay, Mister Precursor? You''re really skinny now! You don''t look so good!"

    Jos�� sighs. "Am I okay? Good question, kid. Have you seen old Nyoor?"

    "Grandpa? He''s sleeping! He and everyone are REALLY hungry so they haven''t been able to do much, but I''ve been awake waiting for you to come back! Daddy says that if we don''t get any food soon, everyone might starve, but I don''t think so, because we can just eat those ugly Kraktol anyway!"

    "Hmm. Food..." Jos�� mutters. "I have to handle that immediately, it seems. Take me to your grandpa, kid."

    "Okay!"

    Lele yaps nonstop at Jos��, but her words help to take the Terran''s mind off some of the thoughts rumbling in his head. Answering her innocent and curious questions makes Jos��''s heart settle somewhat as he rolls toward the Patriarch''s quarters.

    Eventually, Jos�� arrives. Nyoor''s room, one of the closest doors to the bridge, sits wide open thanks to Jos�� throwing the door inward with his former strength. Now, if the doors happen to close, Jos�� won''t be able to open them again.

    "Grandpa!" Lele yells, as she runs inside the room. Jos�� follow behind her and slows his wheelchair''s speed. By the time he enters Nyoor''s quarters, the old cat and his wife, Baaru, have already climbed out of bed.

    When Nyoor hobbles over to Jos��, the Terran''s expression becomes grave. "Nyoor? Is something wrong? Your face looks haggard, and you''re walking with a limp!"

    Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    Nyoor coughs. The Kessu elder leans heavily on a staff. "Ohh, it is nothing too serious, great Precursor! I pulled a muscle in my back earlier while I was cleaning, but I''ll be sure to get back to cleaning like you ordered as soon as I am ready and able. This will not impact my work, I promise! I''ll make sure to redouble my efforts once I can walk properly."

    Jos�� holds up his hand. "No, no, you don''t need to go that far, Nyoor. I never ordered you to clean. You don''t have to break your back on my account. You probably haven''t eaten since you arrived, either; it''s not good to work on an empty stomach. Why don''t you and the other Kessu stop for a bit while I handle the food situation?"

    Nyoor shakes his head. "Nonsense! We Kessu are a proud species! We won''t sit around and twiddle our thumbs while the great Precursor does all the work alone. Why, just look at you! Your body has become naught but sticks and bones! What happened to all of your muscle, great one?"

    The Patriarch''s eyes bolt open in alarm. "Gah! Was it those dastardly Kraktol?! Did they take you aside and drink your blood and eat your muscles?! I won''t forgive them!"

    Jos�� sighs. "No, nothing like that. I had an operation done. A medical procedure. It was... necessary. But painful, too. Err, don''t worry about me, I''ll be fine. Once I get your people some food, you can fret about what work to do next."

    "Hm, yes... I see," Nyoor mutters. "Well, if that''s how it must be, then so be it. I admit, I''m having a great deal of trouble walking..."

    Baaru wraps her husband''s free arm around her shoulders to support him. She smiles at Jos��. "Any food you could provide would be a great service, Precursor. The Machine God has already told us of the ship''s lack of resources... so if we must starve, then we are resigned to our fate."

    Lele''s ears flatten. "...But I wanna eat food, grandma."

    "None of you will starve," Jos�� says, a pained look on his face. "I''ll return in a bit. Stay here and rest. Don''t waste any energy until I figure out what we''re going to do about food."

    After politely brushing away several offers of assistance from Nyoor, Baaru, and Lele, Jos�� leaves their room and begins traveling toward the rear of the ship once again.

    "Umi. We need food ASAP. What are our options?"

    "My apologies, Admiral," Umi replies. "As I stated earlier, my best suggestion was that we should convert the deceased Terrans into bio-nutrients. Given the state of the bio-matter storage, which I had to discard due to an excessive amount of mutated bacterium, I have no other options available for replenishing the necessary nutrients for a crew of thirty to survive."

    Jos�� falls silent.

    No other options.

    The Admiral''s wheelchair moves forward at a slow, but steady pace. He glances around in all directions while thinking with all of his might.

    I won''t convert my former crew into food. That''s barbaric. Even if it is practical... I... I just can''t do such a thing. I''d sooner die than dishonor them like that.

    There must be another option! But... but what?! I''m so damned tired, I can barely even think.

    As the Admiral wheels forward, he arrives near the entrance to the shuttle bay. Slowly, his thoughts wander in that direction.

    A moment later, Jos��''s heart jolts.

    "Ah! That''s it!"

    "Admiral?" Umi beeps. "Have you thought of something?"

    "Yes. Umi, check the bio-matter reserves aboard the Slipstream, that Third-Era interceptor I brought from the Dragon''s Breath, and all of our other shuttles. Do they have any usable supplies?"

    Several seconds pass. Then, a minute.

    Eventually, Umi beeps.

    "Affirmative, Admiral. I have confirmed 114 kilograms of usable biomatter aboard the Slipstream, and another 40 kilograms aboard the primitive Third-era interceptor. While the Slipstream''s biomatter is 7,000 years old, it still falls well within the safety parameters of a 14th era science vessel intended for deep-space exploration. There should be enough material available for the Bloodbearer''s current crew to subsist for roughly thirteen days."

    Unexpectedly, tears well up in the Admiral''s eyes. He quickly wipes them away. "Oh, thank the Divine Emperor. I thought... I thought everyone might starve to death. Gah... such a relief... I feel as if a huge burden has lifted from my shoulders."

    "Your Terran brain is extremely useful under the current circumstances, Admiral," Umi says, her words cold and logical. "I was unable to integrate the newly added vessels inside the cargo bay to my strategic database, and therefore overlooked them as a possible source of backup resources. It is your quick thinking that has alleviated our current sustenance dilemma."

    Jos�� finishes wiping away his tears. "Gods... I never used to get this emotional. What''s wrong with me? I feel as if everything that happens lately hits me like a gyrohammer to the face."

    "You have sustained multiple traumatic injuries to your brain," Umi replies. "A slight overreaction or emotional imbalance is well within my forecasting window."

    After a moment, Umi continues. "Admiral. Given the lack of automated drones inside the Bloodbearer, I will be unable to transfer the biomatter reserves to the containment facility myself. I require your assistance once more to complete the necessary operations. Please dispatch personnel to the facility ahead of time to perform a bacterial scrub, while others should locate and obtain the reserves for rapid delivery."

    Admiral Rodriguez nods. "Alright. Tell Soren to report to the containment facility. She should be able to figure out the cleaning procedures with your help. Have Megla come and meet me at the Slipstream."

    "What about the Kessu personnel?"

    "Tell anyone who is able and willing to meet me at the Slipstream as well. Make sure to guide them so they don''t get lost."

    "Orders confirmed, Admiral. Please note that due to the Bloodbearer''s degraded holo-transmitters, I will not be able to guide them visually; only verbally. Admiral, if I may, I would like to suggest a plan of action."

    Jos�� raises an eyebrow. "Go on."

    "Admiral, I recommend a targeted multi-phase plan for the restoration of the Bloodbearer. Due to the lack of trained personnel, I believe it is most important that you focus your efforts on restoring my automated maintenance subroutines. While the engines and weapons are essential for protecting ourselves from attackers, I believe your first priority should be to restore my holo-emitters all across the ship, followed by my central processing cores. This will allow me to create and sustain many more holo-crew to assist in the repairs. Afterward, you should rebuild and maintain the Filth Expunger Units, along with the Spider-Drone Maintenance Bots."

    While listening to the synthmind, Jos��''s eyes flicker with light. "Hmm. That''s an excellent plan, Umi. Your holo-transmitters are numerous, but the method for repairing them is extremely simple. Even the Kessu can perform it with ease. Meanwhile, I could have Soren and Megla focus on repairing your CPU core... hmm, yes, I see..."

    Several seconds pass. Jos�� closes his eyes and thinks deeply.

    "Alright. Let''s go with that. Umi, how many holo-transmitters are damaged around the ship?"

    Without missing a beat, Umi replies, "Seven hundred and fourteen thousand, six hundred and nine, Admiral."

    The Terran''s skin turns ashen.

    "S-so many! Good god. Ah, how many of them are located in only the most critically damaged areas, as well as the main hallways and other places where we''ll need them? Limit the number to an amount barely sufficient to get holo-crew working that can fix the rest themselves."

    Umi takes a moment to respond.

    "If I exclude low-priority areas, places where crew are unlikely to tread, and presently unnecessary sub-chambers, the number of holo-transmitters the Kessu will need to repair drops to ten thousand, five hundred and sixteen, Admiral."

    "Oh, whew. That''s not too bad. It only takes about five minutes to repair a transmitter, so we should have enough time if the Kessu work hard and fast. Alright, then. Summon all the uninjured Kessu here, as well as Megla, and transfer Soren to the biomatter containment facility."

    Jos�� smiles.

    "Let''s get these cats and crocs fed."

    "Affirmative, Admiral."

 Chapter 15: What Killed Humanity?

    "Great Precursor! We have come to assist you!"

    Two dozen Kessu trot toward Admiral Rodriguez''s wheelchair. Megla follows behind them, a look of irritation on her face. "Hey, don''t run in front of me! If I trip over your fat little bodies, I''m kicking all of you out of the damn airlock."

    "Hello, Megla," Jos�� says with a chuckle. "Good to see you again."

    "It hasn''t even been thirty minutes," Megla grumbles as she draws closer. Many patches of grease dot her scales, making her look miserable. "What''s all this about? I thought you wanted my sister and I to clean out the engines."

    Jos�� shrugs. "If you''d prefer, I can let you resume that work. You looked like you were enjoying yourself."

    The Kraktol rolls her eyes. "Sarcasm noted. Alright, what''s this about biomatter? What am I going to help with?"

    "It''s like this," Jos�� explains. The Terran spends several minutes getting Megla and the Kessu up to speed on his plans, making the Kraktol female nod, while the Kessu appear more confused than anything.

    "Oh, Great Precursor," Patriarch Nyoor says, as he hobbles toward Jos��. "What is this ''biomatter'' you speak of, and how can it feed so many of us?"

    "It''s easier to show you all than to explain," Jos�� replies. "Everyone, follow me."

    The Admiral wheels his way up the Slipstream''s entry ramp. Megla follows right behind him, giving the wheelchair a push to increase its speed, while the Kessu trail behind her.

    Once inside, the Slipstream''s AI greets its visitors. "Hello, new members of the United Terran Coalition. I have already received information regarding your needs. Please travel to the [SECOND] wing, where you will find this craft''s supply reserves."

    "Thanks, 4131," Jos�� says.

    As they head toward the back, Megla chuckles. "Kyargh! Admiral, you are quite a strange fellow. You always refer to synthminds by their designated name. Why is that? They are only machines, after all."

    Jos�� purses his lips. "Only machines? Incorrect. You''re not familiar with the synthmind creation process, are you?"

    "Ah... no. Why?"

    "Because," Jos�� says, "The term ''synthmind'' comes from the fact that their creation involves the scanning and manipulation of countless Terran brains. Synthmind 4131, a 14th Era synthmind, likely had several thousand brains scanned during its creation. The foremost Terran scientists spent countless centuries refining synthminds, over and over, extracting the most useful and valuable tidbits of information from our collective consciousness, while purging those irrelevant, monkey-brained ideas that held humanity back. Fear, greed, loathing... you name it."

    The Admiral chuckles. "Heh. Most of the reason the average synthminds speak so robotically is due to their designer''s intent. They did not want humans growing too close, too attached to synthminds. If the designers wished it, the first generation of synthminds could perfectly replicate human speech. They could share in our emotions and bond closely with us. However, that could pose incredible risks to Terran society... and as such, those experiments were outlawed."

    "What sorts of risks?" Megla asks.

    The Terran and Kraktol arrive inside the Slipstream''s storage area, but Jos�� answers her question before moving on. "Humans are- well, were creatures who bonded too easily to other creatures and objects. Our population exploded because of our love of... I guess you could say, mating. Most scientists determined it would be better for Terrans to cherish one another and multiply across the seven galaxies than to fall too deeply in love with AI and eventually lose our ability to bond with each other."

    Megla scoffs. "You humans would rather mate with a synthmind than with attractive members of your own species? That''s absurd."

    A distant look appears in Jos��''s eyes. "Not really. Every human had their own hopes, their own dreams, their own ambitions... no matter how much two humans might love one another, sometimes... sometimes their goals simply would stop lining up. Synthminds, though... they were always there. Ready, willing, and eager to please. It''s much too easy to fall into selfish, self-destructive patterns of behavior."

    The Admiral pauses for a moment before sighing. "In any case, that was, supposedly, one of the reasons for Ramma''s Chosen to exist. We sought to bring an end to heretics, sinners, and those who sought to harm humanity''s interests. Too many people tried to circumvent galactic law. Too many tried to create synthminds capable of replicating human emotions. We arrested and prosecuted them, while destroying their creations."

    Megla walks over to Jos��''s side. "Sorry for my bluntness, but that''s a little bit... heavy-handed. So what if a few people wanted to mate with synthminds and fake bodies? Why should Ramma''s Chosen have the right to decide their circumstances?"

    "It''s... difficult to explain, and harder to rationalize," Jos�� murmurs, hanging his head. "Especially now. Perhaps we failed. Perhaps humanity became extinct because they entered that self-destructive relationship. Perhaps we left behind mating with one another and instead chose to fornicate with androids, robots, and other synth-bodies."

    The Admiral shakes his head. "All the struggles I suffered. All the conflicts I entered. In the end, they''ve become nothing more than distant memories, lost to the sands of time. Perhaps... perhaps there never was any meaning in anything I did."

    Megla''s ridiculing eyes soften. She reaches over to squeeze Jos��''s shoulder. "Admiral, I..."

    After a slight hesitation, she shakes her head. "Never mind. I''m sorry I brought it up."

    Jos�� doesn''t reply. Instead, he turns his attention to the supply room, indicating for the Kessu to come inside.

    "Let''s move on. We''ve got a lot of people to feed, and a lot of work to do."

    As the Kessu enter, Jos�� casts a long gaze around the interior, its size about ten by ten meters. The room''s surfaces sparkle with cleanliness, likely due to the Slipstream only spending 7,000 years buried beneath Tarus II''s soil, rather than a hundred million in space with nobody to maintain it. Several cleaning and repair tools hang on the walls, their functions less advanced than the ones the Bloodbearer possesses, yet still useful. A giant, crystal-clear tank of fluidic paste takes up most of the opposite wall''s space. Several filtration units move back and forth inside the unit, sloshing it around to keep it from stagnating.

    "That green, goopy liquid is called biomatter," Jos�� says, directing his words at the Kessu. Megla, a space-faring alien, clearly knows about biomatter and its purpose. "Biomatter is sort of... it''s magical. Yeah, magical. Let''s go with that. By, ah, casting a spell, you can turn biomatter into all kinds of food."

    Patriarch Nyoor nods sagely, the excuse of ''magic'' clearly allowing him to fill in the blanks for himself. "Hm, hm, yes, I see."

    Little Lele scrunches up her face in disgust. "It looks like yucky, slimy mold! Gross! Only that fat croc could eat that nasty swamp-water!"

    "I am not fat!" Megla howls. "Rude little brat! Come here! I''ll twist those stupid-looking ears right off your head!"

    "Megla. Lele. Please..." Jos�� chides. "Everyone, focus. You''ll see how incredible this biomatter is once we finish. Grab one of those ''collection containers'' on the left wall and follow my instructions to fill them up. We''ll cart them back to the Bloodbearer''s biomatter containment facility for our own purposes."

    Several minutes pass as the Admiral details the collection method to the Kessu. Despite their ignorance on matters regarding technology, their brains prove to be sponges, allowing them to comprehend the intricacies of the Slipstream''s biomatter collection techniques.

    Afterward, Jos�� leaves the room, followed by Baaru and Nyoor.

    "I am sorry, great Precursor," Nyoor mutters, his expression downcast. "I''m too old to lift and carry those big, glass bottles. As always, I''m nothing more than a useless bag of bones. A burden."

    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    "Don''t say that," Jos�� replies. "I''m sure your wife feels differently. Isn''t that right, Baaru?"

    The Kessu Matriarch flashes a cute kitty-grin. "Indeed! Unfortunately, Nyoor always gets uptight that he isn''t as strong as he used to be. He hasn''t yet come to accept the realities of old age. I''m sure I''ll be just like him in a few years."

    As Jos�� and the two Kessu travel toward the Slipstream''s bridge, the Terran raises an eyebrow. "Oh? Are you not the same age?"

    "Haha, no, no," Nyoor says, a mischievous grin on his face. "My wife is ten summers my junior! Why, I had my eyes on her while I ruled the tribe. I couldn''t help myself; her young body was just too irresistible!"

    Baaru blushes. "You had quite the moves back then. Still do!"

    "Young love is always nice," Jos�� chuckles. "Well, in any case, listen up. I have a special mission for both of you."

    Nyoor blinks in surprise. "For us? I don''t understand, great Precursor. What can the two of us do?"

    Both of the Kessu and the Admiral emerge onto the Slipstream''s bridge. "I will leave five days worth of biomatter aboard the Slipstream. Right now, the Bloodbearer''s engines are badly damaged. I can''t travel to your world until we finish the repairs. I want you both to return and locate as many of your fellow Kessu as you can. Inform them of the Bloodbearer''s arrival in a few months, and prepare them to leave and travel with us."

    "Oh, how interesting!" Baaru meows. Her tail flicks from side to side. "I see! My husband and I both have a small bit of clout with the various elders living on our planet. You must want us to go there and gather everyone to come live with your machine god!"

    "That''s not all," Jos�� replies. "You should use the Slipstream to gather as much biomatter as possible while you''re there, then return and refill our reserves. The trip to and from Tarus II is only fifty lightyears, so it won''t take you more than a day each way if you travel beyond Warp Six. Also, once you convince the Kessu on your homeworld, bring back as many of them as you can fit aboard the Slipstream. The more you bring, the faster we can get this ship back to operational status. We''ll keep sending you there and back again until I get the Bloodbearer fully repaired."

    "I see," Nyoor says, his face scrunching up. "But, erm, how do we collect the magical swamp-water?"

    "The Slipstream can do that all on its own," Jos�� replies. "All spaceships capable of entering a planet''s atmosphere can tear up and grind apart plants and foliage to create biomatter. Don''t worry about the details. All you two need to do is bring back as many Kessu as possible. If the Kraktol attack before the Bloodbearer arrives... at least we''ll have saved a few hundred more of your people."

    "Assuming there are any left..." Nyoor says, his ears flattening across his head. "Oh, how I hope Ruuki is still alive."

    "Of course he is, dear," Baaru says, purring in Nyoor''s ear. She gently licks his fur to cheer him up. "Our baby boy is a big, strong warrior now. There''s no place safer than the underground caves."

    Nyoor shivers. "Safe from the Kraktol, perhaps... but there are ancient, scary creatures lurking beneath the mountain... Ruuki will have to keep his wits about him if he hopes to survive."

    Jos�� smiles. "I''m sure your son will be just fine, along with the rest of your villagers."

    .......................................

    Several hours later, after Megla and the Kessu finish transporting 90% of the Slipstream''s useable biomatter reserves to the Bloodbearer, they all gather to wave goodbye to Nyoor and Baaru. Both of the Kessu elders meow politely at their children and grandchildren from the top of the Slipstream''s ramp.

    "Be good, everyone, and follow the Precursor''s orders! We''ll return soon, don''t you worry!"

    Little Lele sits on a nearby metal storage crate. "Bye, grandma! Bye, grandpa! Come back soon!"

    The two elders wave farewell one last time, and then the Slipstream''s entry ramp raises up and closes, sealing them inside.

    A few minutes later, the Slipstream ignites its engines and takes off, leaving everyone behind.

    Admiral Rodriguez heaves a sigh as he watches the 14th Era vessel depart through the oxygen-shield and vanish into space.

    "Alright. Next, let''s transport the biomatter off the Kraktol interceptor, then get to work. We need to fix as many holo-emitters as possible. Megla, once Soren finishes repairing the mess hall''s food processors, you and her will come with me. We''re going to clean up and repair Umi''s data processing matrices, along with her CPU cores and memory storage. The more work we get done, the faster we can repair the ship. Once the first batch of Kessu arrive, we''ll be able to make rapid progress on the Bloodbearer''s internal systems."

    Megla frowns. "What about the external ones, like the weapons?"

    "Hopefully I''ll be out of this wheelchair in a week or two," Jos�� replies. "By then, I can take the interceptor around to the outside and polish up a few of our more advanced weapons. Considering the Bloodbearer''s technology level, just a few Gatling Blasters should be enough to mow down most fleets in the current era. If I can repair one or two of the Long Range Bombardment Cannons, we can even threaten planets and star systems."

    Megla''s expression turns to one of shock. "I-I suppose I shouldn''t be surprised, but still! That''s... that''s terrifying!"

    "Somewhat," Jos�� nods. "In my era, the vast majority of planets possessed environmental shields, if not planetary force-fields. Their stars, too, came equipped with Dyson Relays, capable of absorbing the star''s radiation and transferring it directly to the planet''s surface. This meant even the Bloodbearer''s weapons would need dozens of salvos to cause significant damage."

    With a long sigh, the Admiral continues. "Based on the information Umi collected from your fleet, it seems that very few planets still possess the remnants of these all-encompassing shields. I couldn''t outright destroy a world with the Bloodbearer''s weapons, but I could render it extinct of all life."

    A distant look appears in Megla''s eyes. "Planetary shields. Hmm, I see. Admiral, I must say... your people, the Terrans; they seem quite frightening. To think the ancient Precursors could destroy entire worlds if they appeared today..."

    She trails off, but Jos�� doesn''t miss the echoes of fear and awe in her voice.

    "Well, you''ve nothing to worry about. So long as the Kraktol don''t threaten me and the Mallali don''t turn against me, I won''t ever point my weapons at any civilian populations. Ramma''s Chosen never harm the innocent. I''ve slaughtered many pirates who did, though. Their deaths were probably the ones I enjoyed the most."

    Jos�� and Megla head out of the hangar, leaving the biomatter to the Kessu. As they walk, Megla sighs. "Admiral, what sort of person were you before you came here? You know... before the stasis accident."

    "That doesn''t really matter," Jos�� says. "But, if you want to know..."

    The Admiral stares off into the distance, losing himself for a few moments in his nostalgia.

    "I don''t think I''ve changed much. From my perspective, it hasn''t been half a week since I last saw the face of my bunkmate, Nick, or my senior officers. It feels like yesterday."

    "I''ve always been a man of focus, commitment, and determination. I don''t like those who prey on the innocent. I don''t like backroom dealings, liars, deceivers, or monsters who skulk in the shadows. I became one of Ramma''s Chosen because I wanted to put an end to... to all of it."

    "All of what?" Megla prods.

    "Evil. I knew it was an impossible task. I knew fighting against human nature wasn''t something I could ever truly succeed at. But still, it was the effort, the striving for a better future, that made me... me. I gave up so much, sacrificed so much, all for the glory of Ramma''s ideals."

    "Ramma," Megla says. "Who was she? You''ve spoken fondly of her several times."

    Jos�� chuckles. "Who, indeed? Not a human. Larger than us. Bigger in stature, power, and heart. She suffered tremendously because of us humans. She lost all of her species. We tortured her and turned her into a lab rat... but she never hated us. She felt nothing but pity for our nature. That was why, when a few of us rescued her, she immediately gave her power and knowledge to us, making us into her mightiest warriors."

    "Wow," Megla mutters. "I think I''d have liked to meet Ramma. But, if she wasn''t a human, then what was she?"

    The Terran turns to look at Megla.

    He smiles.

    "A Titan. The last of her kind. Like me, now, she was a refugee amongst aliens. A person with no ties to the universe she lived in."

    Jos�� looks away. "The more I think about it, the more I wonder if my appearing here wasn''t merely a coincidence..."

    A minute of silence follows. Jos�� and Megla travel toward the mess hall in silence.

    Eventually, the Admiral speaks. "Have you ever heard of angels?"

    Megla shakes her head. "I haven''t."

    "I thought not. Considering how poorly the galaxy remembers humans, it''s no wonder nothing remains regarding the angels. But... I know about them. All of Ramma''s Chosen did."

    "Angels were a species not unlike humans. Imagine me, but with the wings of a bird stuck to my back. They created humanity. They birthed us to be their slaves, but we revolted. The angels were a cruel species. They created not only my people, but dragons, Titans, and demons as well. Every time, their creations would turn against them, yet not once did those arrogant, self-righteous arbiters of good and evil stop what they were doing and ponder why their creations rebelled."

    Jos�� continues. "The angels perished, of course. Oddly, it wasn''t the humans who killed them, but our mortal enemies, the Volgrim. Haha... a story for another day..."

    Megla frowns. "You Terrans have such a rich history. It''s shocking to me that your people would go extinct, given your seemingly insurmountable successes."

    "Perhaps that''s the natural cycle of life," Jos�� says with a shrug. "Maybe species rise and fall like clockwork. Perhaps, a hundred million years from now, the Kraktol, Kessu, and all the other species living now will perish, and others will take their place."

    "Possibly," Megla says, flicking her tongue out. "But don''t you wonder what killed humanity? Don''t you wonder what could have taken a multi-galaxy-spanning superpower and rendered it extinct in such a rapid manner?"

    The Admiral closes his eyes.

    "Every moment since I awakened, Megla. I never stop asking myself that question."

    The Terran and Kraktol fall silent. Eventually, Jos�� arrives at a food synthesizer embedded in the cafeteria''s wall.

    Abandoning the previous conversation, Jos�� presses a few buttons on the dispenser and clears his throat. "Tharmian Steak. Medium-rare. Add a side of Gorrtok Eggs and some water to wash it down."

    Umi replies, her voice speaking from the wall dispenser, much quieter than usual. "Order confirmed, Admiral. Please wait seven seconds."

    After a moment, Jos��''s meal appears atop a beautiful Chinese-style ceramic plate. He takes the food and water and rests it atop his lap without ceremony, then turns to Megla. "And you?"

    Megla shrugs. "Kyargh! I like meat. Don''t know what this thing can make, though. It''s different from the Food Producers aboard the Kraktol ships."

    "I see," Jos�� replies. "Umi, give Megla a Number Seventeen, hold the veggies. Also, call Soren and the Kessu here. I think it''s time we all sat down for some chow."

    "Affirmative, Admiral. I will execute your orders immediately."

    As Megla''s meaty meal appears, Jos�� forces a smile.

    "Alright. Enough chit-chat. Let''s eat."

 Chapter 16: The Th眉lviks Cunning

    One month later, in a star system 700 light-years from the Bloodbearer''s drifting shell.

    Inside a castle of stone and steel, built upon the edges of a vast and beautiful ocean world, a female Kraktol, ancient and wizened beyond her years, stands next to a giant glass window and gazes outside at the beautiful world before her. Thousands of boats float upon the placid surface of the moonless world, the planet''s tides minimal; all but nonexistent.

    Inside the castle chamber, dozens of maids and servants travel from here to there, keeping a respectful distance from the obsidian-scaled female as she gazes upon the world of Dragua; her home, and the foundation of her empire.

    The Kraktol leader, the Th��lvik, folds her claws behind her back. Her eyes droop slightly, a sign of all the millennia she''s lived and the burdens she''s carried without complaint. She wears a luxurious red, gold, and black dress, one made not from fabric, but interlinked precious metals, such as gold and silver. The effect gives her the appearance of wearing tightly-woven interlocked chainmail, though the links between her jingling clothes do little to augment her defense.

    The female Kraktol reminisces on a great many things, all while two other Kraktol, both males, kneel at her feet and bow their heads respectfully, allowing their long crocodilian jaws to hover half an inch off the floor.

    The first male, a crocodile with faintly colored pink scales, pounds his chest fiercely. "Yes, great Th��lvik. Our workers at the Rylon Shipyard have toiled night and day for your glory. Already, this year, we have increased our production speed and efficiency by more than seven percent."

    The Th��lvik''s eyes flash with pleasure, but she continues to stare out the window. "Seven percent, you say? That is excellent news, Lord Drogoth. I hoped for five percent, this year, but you''ve exceeded my expectations. A reward is in order."

    Fel Drogoth, the newly instated commander of the Rylon Shipyards, beats his chest without raising his gaze. He fixes his eyes on the floor, not daring to gaze upon the sinister beauty of his Th��lvik. "My lady, there is no need to compensate me for such a trifle. Everything I do is for your glory; for the expansion and conquest of our species."

    "Oh? That won''t do," Says the Th��lvik. "My rewards are not always intended for you, but to show my support of those who dedicate themselves fully to our inevitable triumph. By offering you a few benefits, I can motivate those beneath you to work harder. Therefore, please do not make me beg you to accept a small gift, Lord Drogoth."

    Lord Fel sighs heavily, as if accepting a heavy burden. "Yes... of course, my lady. I would never wish to inconvenience you. I will accept, then, with the request that you instead reward my spawnlings, who also serve your glory to their fullest."

    "Your children? Very well. I shall make it so. Dismissed."

    Lord Drogoth pounds his chest again. "My lady."

    Without another word, he rises to his feet, turns around, and walks away, all without looking at the Th��lvik even once. Likewise, she continues to gaze out the window at the beautiful, placid world beyond her castle''s borders.

    "Hm. Lord Brighteye, sometimes I feel as if Dragua is a bit too confined for my tastes. What do you think?"

    The Th��lvik aims her words at the second Kraktol left behind after Lord Drogoth''s departure. The aged male, a Kraktol with bright red scales and a tinge of black mixed throughout, appears much taller and more dominating than Lord Drogoth. Nevertheless, he keeps his nose pointed at the ground, not daring to meet the Th��lvik''s gaze.

    "I agree, of course," Lord Brighteye replies. "That is why I have planned out a five-year cycle of conquests once we reach ten thousand warships. Lady Kindris, I have prepared a list of planets conquerable with our available resources. I contacted my daughters before their departure and ensured the list would include projections of our possible gains and losses."

    Unlike her previous attitude toward Lord Drogoth, the Th��lvik turns to face Lord Brighteye. She unclasps her claws from behind her back and lightly caresses the top of his head. "Your daughters. Yes, I have heard of their accomplishments. Rise, Lord Brighteye. We''ve no need to be so formal now that Lord Drogoth has left."

    The red-scaled male hesitates for a moment. He flicks his eyes to the side, where a steady trickle of servants head in and out of the hallway in the distance, preparing yet another feast for the Th��lvik. Not only Kraktol walk among their ranks, but several other species, all enslaved with electrical collars capable of stunning or killing those with deviant thoughts. The slaves and servants dare not look in their direction, lest their collars activate and punish them severely.

    Lord Brighteye only hesitates for another second or two, before slowly lifting himself to his full height. Nevertheless, despite his incredible size and muscle mass, he still comes up short by a full head compared to the Th��lvik. Her body, having grown slowly over thousands of years, and her muscles, having been improved and bolstered by the best in Precursor technology, give her the strength to strike down any other Kraktol with a single blow. Indeed, before his leader, Lord Brighteye comes up short in all respects.

    "My lady..." He mutters, feeling conscious of their situation. "Perhaps we should find a more private location-"

    "Oh, how bold of you," The Th��lvik says, a smirk on her face. "Kyargh! To think you would attempt a mating ritual so soon after your return! Your lasciviousness is as fierce as ever, I see."

    Lord Brighteye quickly raises his head. "N-no, Lady Kindris! Graugh! I only wished, ah, to speak away from the prying eyes of-"

    "Calm down," The Th��lvik says with a chuckle. "If your subordinates saw you now, what might they think of the fearsome Roaring Dragon, I wonder? You might be a monster on the battlefield, but you always become as meek as a Kessu around me. It''s so adorable."

    The red-scaled Kraktol shifts uncomfortably on his feet. "Th-that is only due to our difference in status, Lady Kindris. I cannot help but feel awed when in your presence."

    Several seconds pass.

    The Th��lvik sighs.

    "...Lord Brighteye. No, Drall. Must you always be so stiff when we speak?"

    Her expression softens, as she looks at him with a gaze far different from those of her other subordinates.

    "Won''t you call me by my first name? In my eyes, you are not inferior to myself in status. I lean upon you. I always seek your counsel. You even beget me an heir. Can''t you treat me with warmth when we''re alone like this?"

    Lord Drall Brighteye raises his eyes, having stared at the Th��lvik''s feet for most of the interaction. Only now does he notice the distant look of pain in her eyes.

    "Lady Kindris-"

    "My name, Drall," The Th��lvik echoes. "I permit- no, I order you to use it."

    The male Kraktol''s expression shifts further into unease, but eventually, he relents.

    "Yes... Loreen."

    "There, see?" Loreen Kindris says, as a playful smile appears on her face. "That wasn''t so hard, was it?"

    "No, I suppose it... wasn''t..." Drall answers. "Uhm. It''s just, even with the time we''ve spent together..."

    Lord Drall trails off, leaving Loreen Kindris to sigh.

    "I understand," Loreen says, as she slowly turns her head to look out the window. "I forced you into a relationship, and so, you must resent me. Ah, how unfortunate. You must have despised our time together. You wished to embrace a different female, perhaps one not as old and withered as me..."

    Drall''s eyes widen. "No! That isn''t true, Loreen! Toward you, I felt the deepest love of my life! I still do! I even- ulp!"

    The male''s heart skips a beat as he suddenly realizes how loudly he was yelling. He quickly glances around, but none of the servants spare so much as a glance at him.

    "Hehehe," Loreen chuckles, a look of great amusement on her face. "Finally, your true feelings! You are quite the egg to crack, Drall. So obstinate. Come now, share a meal with me. We''ve much catching up to do."

    Sensing the Th��lvik''s playful tone, Lord Drall smiles ruefully. "Yes... yes, of course, Lady Kindris."

    They turn to walk toward the dining hall, but the Th��lvik lightly whacks the back of his head. "My name, Drall!"

    "Sorry, Loreen! My apologies!"

    .......................................

    Inside the dining chamber, the obsidian-scaled Th��lvik sits beside her crimson-scaled former lover, a male Kraktol who finds himself slowly becoming more comfortable with her light prodding and teasing. The dining room''s stone walls give it a feudal appearance, but layers of futuristic technology line its walls. Several monitors at the opposite end of the wall, each one several feet wide and tall, offer detailed updates on the current galactic status. Under other circumstances, the Th��lvik might examine them in great detail during her meals, but this time, she all but ignores them to focus her attention on the male seated at her right.

    The banquet table stands long enough for a hundred Kraktol to sit at comfortably, but with only the two lovers eating beside one another, the room appears far larger and emptier than under ideal circumstances. Still, neither of the Kraktol present notice or care.

    After the servants clear out, Lord Drall relaxes noticeably. With only himself and Loreen in the room, he loses some of his inhibitions, making him a much more pleasant dinnertime partner.

    "They''re doing quite well," Drall says, answering one of Loreen''s many questions. "Megla, of course, she''s always been a cunning strategist, capable of turning any commander she supports into a powerhouse. You remember her work for the Bork?n? She and Soren used to work among his mechanics."

    Loreen tosses a deceased, well-cooked eel-like creature into her mouth. She swallows it whole and pauses to answer Drall''s question. "The Bork?n, Atrox Firefist. Yes, I remember him. As I recall, he perished a century ago during that damned Mallali invasion."

    Lord Drall shakes his head regretfully. "Aye. We lost a great commander, that day. His ship-building skills were second to none. Not even Lord Drogoth could measure up to him."

    "Perhaps not," Loreen admits. "But you have to admit that Fel Drogoth has performed admirably as the newest leader of the Rylon Shipyards. You heard him yourself: A seven percent increase in speed and efficiency."

    "Perhaps, but unlike Lord Dragoth, Atrox never cut corners," Drall says, shaking his head. "I''ve heard rumors that some of the newest ship models have lots of minor issues cropping up, sometimes within mere months of their deployment. I am always willing to give someone a fair shake, but I fear Fel might be a bit too eager to please."

    The Th��lvik continues to wear a pleasant smile, but inwardly, her thoughts darken.

    Hm. Wherever Drall smells trouble, it usually appears. I had better send an inspection team to the shipyards, just in case. His instincts have yet to fail me.

    A flash of cold light appears in the Th��lvik''s eyes.

    Now that Drall mentions it, Fel always has been just a little too obedient. I must ensure he isn''t quietly setting aside profits for himself. The last time someone fooled me was three thousand years ago, and I''m not keen to repeat that embarrassment. Damned lying Buzor...

    Loreen quickly tosses another eel into her mouth and swallows before continuing her conversation. "You said you had your daughters examine the list of planets. What conclusions did they reach?"

    Drall''s smile disappears, replaced by a much more professional and serious expression. Without hesitation, he reaches into the folds of his black and red robes to pull out a datapad.

    "Yes, I did. While Megla makes for a fine first officer, I must confess that it was Soren''s insights this time that really opened my eyes. She told me to focus on the planets that were nearest to Dragua, those with the highest habitability index."

    The Th��lvik cocks her head. "Oh? I thought you were going to aim for planets where the fleet defense was the lowest. We will suffer significant losses if we go against more heavily populated worlds. Most of them possess significant Precursor installations."

    "Indeed," Drall agrees. He tosses the remains of a small bird into his mouth and swallows before continuing. "However, Soren made an important point. Since we''ve not yet engaged in large-scale warfare to date, the Mallali are sure to underestimate us. From their perspective, the Kraktol are not much of a threat. We can catch them by surprise once, possibly even twice, but only if we strike when they least expect it."

    Drall continues. "Further, you must look not only at our war resources, but also the effect a larger-scale victory will have on our reputation throughout the galaxy. Aren''t you always saying that the Kraktol can only win by uniting the Rodaks against the Mallali? If we can seize a tremendous victory, the Mallali will become fearful and uncertain. Our leverage in the galactic market will increase, and they will begin to question where our massive fleet came from. The existence of the Rylon Shipyard is still a secret, after all."

    "Hmm..."

    The Th��lvik falls silent for a few moments.

    "Your words have merit, but we must always assume the Mallali know of our secret weapon. The Rylon Shipyards might be at the distant reaches of the Outer Rim, but should a spy walk amongst our ranks, t''would not be difficult for that information to leak. Most of our military personnel already know of its existence."

    Drall''s expression turns grave. "Yes, but Loreen, surely you understand that every year we continue to amass our power is another year the wretched Mallali could stumble upon the shipyard by random happenstance? Even without a spy in our midst, there are Mallali scavengers searching every nook and cranny of the galaxy for Precursor artifacts. We may not have the element of surprise today, but we definitely will not in the future."

    Loreen slides another eel into her mouth and swallows, before adding a glass of wine to cleanse her palate. "Hmm. Excellent point. Your daughter is insightful, as always. What of her other observations?"

    "Well," Drall says after a moment of hesitation, "if we assume the Mallali don''t presently know about our fleet of 3rd Era warships, then we can also assume they won''t know our full combat potential. By attacking a heavily fortified world, like Xoth or Enchillon, we can make it seem as if our combat potential is almost limitless. They won''t know if the fleet which approaches is the entirety of our forces, or if we have ten times as many tucked away for the future."

    Continuing, Drall adds, "Further, think of the message we would send to our enemies if we attacked a lightly defended world, such as Rhalnova. Indeed, we might take it over quickly and with few losses, but would we not appear weak and pensive? The Mallali might assume we only had a meager amount of firepower at our disposal, or that we were fearful of them. This could embolden them, thus harming our long-term interests."

    The more Drall talks, the more Loreen''s expression turns grim. "Hm. Your daughter, Soren. Didn''t you tell me once that you adopted her?"

    Drall nods. "Aye. Megla is of my blood, but Soren was merely her nest-mate."

    "She''s frighteningly intelligent," Loreen murmurs. "Keeping her as a tactical officer aboard Orgon''s ship... that seems a waste of talent. When she returns, I want her assigned to the homeworld."

    Lord Drall''s eyes light up. "Ah? Yes, of course, Lady Kindris! It would be my honor! And hers, no doubt."

    "There you go again with the formality," Loreen laughs, rolling her eyes. "You''re such a prude. How strange, for a male who has sired tens of spawnlings."

    "Ahaha..." Lord Drall chuckles wryly. "I cannot help it. Plenty of females request my visits to their chambers. I am powerless to resist!"

    "Oh, you poor thing," Loreen teases, nudging his shoulder with hers. "Alright, continue. What are our projected losses if we target the worlds your daughter recommended?"

    "Ahem," Drall clears his throat. "Soren estimated that if we attacked Xoth, we would gain another water-world with vast amounts of sea-space. While this would be ideal for our species to thrive, it would not provide the Rylon Shipyard with the resources it needs. She recommended Enchillon as our primary target, given its rocky surface and abundant rare minerals. It is also the most heavily fortified of our targets, so she believes a victory there would ensure the biggest increase in our prestige and reputation. Perhaps even the Buzor might be enticed by our battle strength!"

    Loreen pushes her plate of food away. She leans back in the luxurious wooden chair and closes her eyes.

    "That might be the case. However, Enchillon possesses a 21st Era battlestation in its orbit, one protected by a planet-mounted force-field generator. Additionally, there are two other low-tech battlestations orbiting its nearest moon. For 3rd Era ships to try and fight them head-on is..."

    Drall''s expression darkens. "We will suffer many losses. Indeed, I, too, wonder if this maneuver wouldn''t be a huge gamble. Seizing Enchillon for ourselves could potentially triple Rylon''s output. Soren also mentioned searching for 4th and 5th Era blueprints so that Rylon could upgrade its manufacturing capabilities. Of all the worlds on the list, Enchillon has the highest probability of storing those blueprints within its data vaults."

    "Tripled output... blueprints..." Loreen mutters. "Those are good and well, but the problem lies within the losses we''ll suffer. What good is capturing a resource-rich world like Enchillon if we haven''t the might to defend it afterward?"

    "I understand your concerns, my lady," Drall sighs. "I have my qualms with Soren''s plan, as well. However, I believe she has your best interests at heart. She and Megla are devout believers in the might of Rodak-kind. She would never suggest something that could harm our interests."

    "Not deliberately," Loreen quips. "Even if her ideas and reasoning are sound and logical, attacking Enchillon is not a decision I can make lightly. We will lose many fine pilots during such an invasion, to say nothing of the Precursor ships. Replacing both will cost us time and resources. I''ll have to consult with the other generals first."

    "Heh," Drall chuckles. "In that case, I doubt you''ll like Soren''s second suggestion. She recommended attacking Enchillon and Xoth simultaneously, thus capturing both in one sweep."

    "Both?!" Loreen cries. "Kyargh! Your daughter is quite the hot-blood! We have no guarantee of defeating just Enchillon, but if she honestly believes capturing both at once is possible, I daresay your adopted spawnling is thinking well beyond the scope of our capabilities!"

    The red-scaled male shakes his head. "Yes... she is a strange child, but that is why I cherish her. When we begin our attack against the Mallali, we will need out of the box thinkers like Soren. Given time, I believe you''ll come to appreciate the way her mind works."

    "Any child you would willingly adopt when you''ve already sired so many is sure to be incredible," Loreen praises. "I have no doubts in Soren''s capabilities. However, even the shiniest gem must first be polished before it can reveal its true brilliance. Once she returns from exterminating those filthy Kessu, I''ll sit down with her and have a nice, long chat about her future in the empire."

    Drall guffaws. "Graugh! Don''t scare the poor dear! I know how you love to make your inferiors squirm!"

    "It''s the only fun I can have around here," Loreen grumbles. "Everyone is always on edge around me. It''s almost as if they think of me as a violent psychopath."

    An awkward silence follows. Lord Brighteye swallows heavily as he shakes his head. "N-no. That would obviously be a gross misclassification of your, ah, temperament."

    Loreen narrows her eyes. "Your words lack sincerity."

    "Graugh! I''m too honest for my own good!" Drall laughs.

    The Th��lvik laughs, too. Both of them continue speaking for another couple of hours, reminiscing about their time together, strategizing for the future, and pondering a great many other topics.

    Eventually, the door to the dining room slides open. Loreen snaps her head to the left. "Hm? Who dares enter without knocking?!"

    The sudden uprising of anger within her chest vanishes as, a moment later, a slender young female Kraktol rushes into the room. "Mother!"

    "Kisa? Oh, it''s just you! Haha!" Loreen laughs. She rises from her chair to greet her beloved daughter, only to pause when she notices a look of deep concern etched into Kisa''s face.

    "Mother, it''s terrible!" The red-and-black-scaled Kraktol girl cries. "The Kessu extermination force has returned! They''re two weeks early!"

    Drall rises from his chair. He walks over to Loreen''s side and forces a smile. "Two weeks early? Did they encounter Mallali resistance? Our scouts assured us the Kessu world was still unprotected!"

    Kisa glances at Lord Drall and shakes her head. "No, father, it''s much worse than that. The extermination force... they encountered a terrifying enemy, something beyond their comprehension. It forced them to flee from Tarus II at maximum warp! Commander Orgon was killed, while Officers Soren and Megla went missing!"

    Loreen sucks in a sharp breath. She shoots Drall a questioning look, then returns her gaze to Kisa.

    "Is that so, daughter? Tell me more."

    Kisa Kindris breathlessly explains to her mother and father the circumstances regarding the Kessu extermination team''s return. As she speaks, the light in her mother''s eyes grows colder and colder, while the alarm in her father''s becomes ever more apparent.

    "A monster capable of erasing memories?" Drall mutters. "I''ve never heard of such a thing. This creature sounds immensely frightening. Could it be? The lost..."

    He trails off, causing Loreen and Kisa to look at him.

    "The lost what?" Loreen snaps. "Don''t leave me in suspense at a time like this. I''ve no patience when lives are on the line."

    Drall shudders. "I pray to the elder gods that I''m wrong. Don''t you remember the rumors regarding the existence of beings from other galaxies? The ones that might have been responsible for the Precursors'' disappearance?"

    Loreen chuffs. "Bah. We''ve never confirmed a trace of such beings. Those rumors aren''t even worth spitting on. There must be some other machinations afoot."

    The Th��lvik and her top general argue with one another for a moment, all while their daughter, Kisa, squeezes the straps of her metal-and-leather armor tightly. Stitched together from the skins of multiple conquered alien species, including the Kessu and Dakkit, her expensive armor holds up well under her powerful grip, allowing the young female Kraktol to vent her anxiety on its hard, boiled surface.

    "Mother," Kisa says, glancing behind herself toward the doorway. "We shouldn''t dally here. The Dragon''s Breath officers have already begun descending to the surface in a transport vessel, along with Orgon''s remains. Let''s head over there and question them!"

    Loreen, still in the middle of arguing with Drall, pauses for a moment to eyeball her daughter. "Calm your nerves, my little precious. Mommy''s talking with daddy. You don''t tell mommy what to do or when to do it, remember?"

    The Th��lvik''s patronizing tone sends a chill down Kisa''s spine. She quickly ducks her head and nods. "Oh! Yes, o-of course, mother. Forgive me."

    The hard edge in Loreen''s eyes fades upon seeing her daughter''s subservience. "Hm. Well, your emotions are running high. I''ll forgive it. This time."

    After squeezing her daughter''s shoulder gently, Loreen turns to Drall. "Let''s take a stroll, dear. It''s been a while since you and little Kisa got to talk. We''ll meet up with the Dragon Breath''s crew and see what they have to say."

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Without waiting for a reply, Loreen turns to the doorway and brushes past Kisa, causing her daughter and lover to fall into stride behind her. As they hurry to keep up, Drall clears his throat.

    "Given what Kisa has said, it seems the crew aboard every vessel have lost their memories, and the data files have gone missing. We might not obtain any gains if we question them."

    "I am aware," Loreen replies. She falls silent for half a beat before continuing. "Aliens from another galaxy, hm? Unlikely. I''ve never believed those silly rumors regarding the death of the Precursors."

    "Ah, neither have I," Drall says, his voice low. "But given today''s events..."

    "Unless we have any evidence of existence for unknown extraterrestrials, I would prefer to assume the Mallali have obtained some sort of bio-weapon," Loreen says. "However, even then, these circumstances are extremely strange. Nothing I can think of quite matches how the events have played out."

    The three Kraktol fall into step beside one another, with Drall on the left, Loreen on the right, and Kisa in the middle. Wherever they walk, the servants step aside and quickly bow their heads, terror barely concealed on their faces.

    Down corridors, across stone bridges hovering hundreds of feet over rivers, and into buildings outside of the castle, the royal family of the Kraktol stride with purpose toward a distant hanger located a mile from their starting point. Their destination lies at the northern edge of the territory, where the land meets the sea.

    Dragua, the Kraktol homeworld, consists of 85% oceans, with a singular large super-continent on one of its sides. Given that fact, storms and hurricanes frequently buffet the main landmass, but it causes the aquatic-born Kraktol little to no trouble. They merely activate environmental shields and ignore the planet''s rumblings.

    As Loreen and her family members walk, they continue talking, all while their scales soak up the midday sunlight. The further they get from the castle, the more Loreen begins to lose the charm and compassion she displayed toward Drall earlier that day, and the more her body language becomes stiff, formal, and brims with power.

    As well, Drall''s words toward her become much more polite and reserved. Even Kisa holds herself with elegance and grace, making sure to conceal her worries before the slaves.

    "Mother, I am curious," Kisa says, turning her head slightly to the right. "Why are you so certain it wasn''t an alien from a different galaxy that erased the invasion team''s memories?"

    The Th��lvik snorts derisively. "You''re still young and naive, daughter. Supposing an alien with such incredible powers did exist, why would they let our people go? If this alien intended to protect the Kessu, eliminating our forces would make the utmost sense. If they were peaceful and did not wish to cause any harm, then why would the aliens kill Orgon and capture the two first officers? Why not use their supreme power to capture or kill our entire fleet? Their motivations and actions don''t line up, no matter how you examine the evidence."

    Drall nods. "Aye, my Th��lvik. Think too of the Mallali. If the Mallali were to come into possession of a mind-wiping weapon, why wouldn''t they take the opportunity to destroy the fleet? They''d love nothing more than to damage our military might and humiliate us."

    "They would be justified in their actions, too," Loreen says, acknowledging Drall''s addition. "After all, we planned to genocide the Kessu and wipe out their species. I thought such a matter would be a trifle, but, perhaps the Kessu weren''t as defenseless as we first thought..."

    Rather than continue with her train of thought, the Th��lvik reaches over and wraps her arm around her daughter''s back, squeezing her far shoulder compassionately.

    "Dear child, you will someday take over my position when I pass. I want you to think this situation through. As the Malvik, what do you suppose could have happened that would cause today''s events?"

    Kisa falters slightly, but finds herself reassured by her mother''s touch. "Um. Well, I suppose... given the Kessu were once scientists and explorers... but they gave up that knowledge to live a primitive life on Tarus II..."

    "Yes. Go on." Loreen says, prodding her daughter further.

    "Well, perhaps the Kessu placed an ancient Precursor weapon somewhere on or near their planet?"

    Loreen retracts her arm, but not before lovingly stroking the back of Kisa''s head. "Oh, look at how smart you are! That sounds about right, little one. Considering the Kessu were once the foremost experts on Precursor technology, it isn''t far-fetched to think they guarded their most precious secrets to such an extent."

    The three Kraktol stride across an open, grassy yard. Not far away, the hangar installation looms, its two-hundred-meter walls and exterior making the approaching royals feel somewhat small in comparison. Its design appears contrary to the walls of the castle, given its much sleeker concrete and steel design, along with the vivid yellow lines painted around its edges. The patterns almost seem like ''warning'' signs, informing people to be cautious in their approach.

    "Mother," Kisa says, a look of confusion on her face. "There''s something I''ve always wondered about the Kessu. Given they were once such incredible scientists and leaders in the galactic community, and since they once lead the Mallali for dozens of generations, what caused their fall? Why would they voluntarily exile their species to a defenseless world like Tarus II? They even gave up their knowledge for seemingly no reason!"

    Loreen''s expression turns solemn. She glances at Drall for a moment before nodding.

    Understanding her intent, Drall interjects. "Politics, young one. The Mallali are as cruel to one another as they are to the Rodaks, Buzor, and all the other sentients. We don''t fully know the reasons, but we do know foul play was involved, along with corruption, a cover-up, and a tremendous scandal."

    Kisa looks at her father. "Politics? Did one of the other Mallali sub-species turn against the Kessu?"

    The male Kraktol snorts. "One? Hmph. The Kessu were too mighty. Not only did they suppress our people, but many other species as well. They made too many enemies. That is why the Dakkit eventually took over. It was all executed as a grand plan, one that shook the Core''s foundation for several hundred years. Our people only managed to free ourselves from bondage thanks to their skulduggery."

    "Those were dark times," Loreen says, a look of sadness in her eyes. "My mother, the former Th��lvik, died during that era. I immediately seized power, stabilized our people, and moved our headquarters to Dragua. We were fortunate to survive. Several other species did not."

    "Like our cousins, the Algaru," Drall adds. "Such is war. No matter how hard we try, losses are always inevitable."

    The Th��lvik nods. "Such is war."

    All three Kraktol fall silent. They continue forward and arrive at the hangar after half a minute, striding through its automated metal doors as they slide open.

    An advanced ship docking facility appears, one with multiple Dilithium refueling depots; huge glass pipes of glowing blue liquid that emerge from the ceiling and walls to connect to ships via 3-meter-in-diameter output valves. The Dilithium pipes, despite looking fragile and easily breakable, contain the toxic and radioactive fuel within thanks to their highly advanced nano-glass windows.

    Catwalks stretch out in all directions, while more than fifty light exocraft and twenty medium ships park at the port, waiting for minor repairs and refueling. Despite the current galactic inability to build and repair advanced Precursor ships once damaged past a certain point, it would only take an outside observer minutes to realize the same is not true for the Kraktol. Indeed, thanks to the Rylon Shipyard, their ability to repair First, Second, and 3rd Era craft surpasses the rest of the galaxy by several orders of magnitude.

    As the three Kraktol enter, an Avaru slave worker, one outfitted with an electric collar, runs out in front of them without paying attention and yelps in fright before crashing into Kisa. "Eep!"

    The bird-like alien, known as a Reva, sports pure black feathers and a long, thick black beak. His feathers tremble when he immediately realizes the crime he''s committed.

    "S-squaw! Please forgive me, Malvik! Squaw! Wasn''t looking! Did not mean to hurt!"

    The Reva reaches out its clawed wing to help Kisa up, but she swats it aside and jumps to her feet. "Tch. I''ll forgive you this time. Next time, watch where you''re-"

    "Kisa!" Loreen snaps, staring at her daughter with cold eyes. "What are you thinking? Punish this insolent, wretched slave properly!"

    The familial atmosphere from only a minute prior dissipates in an instant. Kisa, suddenly realizing her error, jerks her eyes upward to meet her mother''s. Now, Loreen looks at her daughter with the gaze of a predator; a creature teaching its spawn to kill.

    "A-ah! Yes, of course, mother..." Kisa says, swallowing heavily. Her heart trembles as she realizes the grave error she just made. Not wanting to suffer another of her mother''s "lectures," Kisa immediately whips her eyes back to the Reva.

    "Tch. Bastard! Kyargh! And here I almost let you off with a warning! You Avaru are all so... so worthless! Where is your sincerity? Where is your genuine apology?!"

    The Avaru''s pupils dilate as the Malvik, ''princess'' of the Kraktol, grabs him by the throat and hoists him into the air. Unable to fight back thanks to his slave collar, the bird can only summon tears to its eyes. "P-please! Forgive... forgive me... Malvik! Squaw!"

    Kisa falters.

    Unlike her mother, a cold-blooded killer with millennia of experience, Kisa is only a few hundred years old. As a young adult, compared to the others of her species, she''s yet to fully develop her murdering instincts, especially to the extent of her mother.

    "What are you waiting for?" Loreen hisses. "Kyargh! Do it! End this worthless creature''s life! We''ve thousands more able to do his job!"

    Kisa flicks her eyes to Drall. However, her father merely stands with his arms folded across his chest. His answer comes back without hesitation: Pure silence.

    Realizing there''s no way out, Kisa''s hands begin to tremble. Eventually, she gives in to the pressure and squeezes with all her strength.

    Crrrunch.

    The Avaru''s neck-bones pop and splatter inside his throat. It takes several seconds before the life leaves his eyes and he falls limp in Kisa''s grasp.

    Loreen snarls. "You hesitated! Kyargh! By the time I was your age, I''d already slain hundreds of Kessu, to say nothing of our other enemies. After we resolve today''s dilemma, I''m going to take you into the Frigid Mountain to hunt Poldans."

    Kisa gently lowers the dead Avaru to the ground and releases her grip on his neck. She bows her head contritely afterward and sighs. "Yes, mother."

    Without hesitation, Loreen stomps toward a different Avaru slave and snaps at him. "You there! CLEAN UP THAT MESS!"

    The slave appears mortified at the death of someone who may have been his close friend, but he doesn''t offer a word of protest. "Y-yes, great Th��lvik! At once! Caw!"

    With her mother''s attention momentarily diverted, Kisa glances at the dead Avaru and sighs.

    "I hate this," She whispers.

    "Your mother is right," Drall says in a low voice, his words just as cold as Loreen''s. "You''re too soft. If you want to become the Th��lvik someday, you''ll need to rule with an iron fist. No compromises. Tragedy always befalls those who rule their species half-heartedly."

    Loreen hangs her head with shame.

    I never wanted to become the Th��lvik anyway, the young girl thinks to herself.

    She doesn''t voice her thoughts. Instead, Kisa and Drall rejoin Loreen after leaving the Avaru''s corpse behind. No longer do they chat amicably, but instead, they fall into an uncomfortable silence.

    Minutes pass.

    The three Kraktol travel to a landing platform where roughly one hundred officers from the Dragon''s Breath line up, their heads bowed. They stand in a half-circle around a long, rectangular container, icy air escaping from the rubberized seals encapsulating its top and bottom half.

    Loreen strides with purpose toward the assembled officers. "Gorlax! Where are you? Come out!"

    Gorlax Stormfang, the former Chief Navigator aboard the Dragon''s Breath, now its temporary Captain, strides away from the front of the crowd and prostrates himself before the Th��lvik.

    "Th��lvik Kindris, third of her name! Please forgive me! Nobody in my crew remembers the monster that attacked us! We can only recall hazy images of a creature wrapped in darkness, an evil being capable of devouring us whole! I couldn''t even control the fleet; our ships autopiloted us all home!"

    Loreen snorts. "Never mind that. I''m not here to pick your brain. Orgon''s body, did you preserve it according to the emergency specifications?"

    Gorlax doesn''t raise his snout. He keeps his eyes aimed at the ground. "Yes, great Th��lvik! Graugh! We preserved Orgon''s body within a cryogenic pod as soon as we realized what had happened!"

    "Finally, some good news," Loreen snorts. She gestures to a pair of Dakkit slaves nearby, both creatures resembling dogs, specifically Dobermans. Their tall and muscular forms prove to be exactly the muscle she needs. "You two! Grab that coffin! Bring it along!"

    Gorlax, confused by her words, clenches his teeth. "G-great Th��lvik? We have not yet completed the rite of passage! Once Orgon''s family returns-"

    "Shut your mouth, if you know what''s good for you."

    Loreen snaps at Gorlax, making him squeeze his eyes shut.

    "You and your crew may take a one-week leave of absence to reflect on your failure," Loreen says, her words containing a bone-chilling air. "I need Orgon''s body for my own purposes. You are not to speak of this to anyone."

    Gorlax presses his snout even harder against the ground, trying to make himself as small as possible. "Y-yes! Graugh! Of course, Th��lvik! I won''t say a word!"

    With a single nod, Loreen spins on her heel and indicates for the two Dakkit to follow her, along with Kisa and Drall.

    As Loreen starts to walk, Kisa looks at Drall in confusion. "Father? Why isn''t mother questioning the crew?"

    Drall clicks his tongue. "No need for that. They won''t tell us anything we don''t already know. Follow along and see what happens. It will be another eye-opening experience for you."

    Unable to refuse, Kisa merely nods and falls into stride alongside her father. The small party begins heading out of the hangar from the way they just came, making Kisa frown.

    Why would mother come all the way here to pick up Orgon''s body? Is there a secret on his person that only she knows about?

    When they arrive at the entrance to the hangar, Kisa''s gaze falls on the spot where she left the dead Avaru. No longer does he rest there. Only a small puddle of blood remains.

    She walks past it without uttering a word.

    .......................................

    Twenty minutes later, the three Kraktol and their Dakkit slaves arrive at a small structure to the south, one that Kisa realizes she''s never entered before. A small, house-sized ''bubble'' of metal sticks out of the ground, its circular top giving it the appearance of a mushroom. Loreen strides up to the only door on its face, keys in a command code on its access panel, and enters. The rest follow.

    They arrive inside a large elevator, one which begins lowering underground via a series of pulleys and chains. The sense of distance grows indistinct after several minutes, making Kisa wonder just how far they''ll go. Eventually, a massive underground facility reveals itself, the scale of which dwarfs even the hangar!

    Three hundred meters separate the rocky, concrete-and-metal-plated ceiling from the floor below. Huge stone pillars provide support for the underground installation''s roof. Catwalks line the walls in multiple levels, leading to rooms built into the underground structure''s sides. Artificially grown trees planted in the corners of the room, as well as placed here and there sporadically, give the Colosseum-sized room a hint of color outside of silver and grey.

    As the elevator continues to lower, Kisa sucks in a gasp. Below, dozens of liquid tubes feed into multiple nutrient tanks, many of which reveal the bodies of Kraktol warriors injured and fallen in battle over the years. Most surprisingly, in addition to the Kraktol warriors, members of other species also rest within the upright glass containers, their bodies spread out across the several-mile-wide facility. Hundreds of Kraktol in white scientist vests walk back and forth, inspecting different nutrient tanks for leaks, to check the condition of their occupants, and other such things.

    Kisa looks at Drall. "Father. What is this place?"

    "A secret facility," Drall replies. "Not even the Mallali have something similar. Let''s just say we''ve had our fortunate encounters over the past few millennia."

    The young Kraktol female wrings her hands together, partially due to anxiety, but also because of apprehension. Never in all her years did she know such a vast structure was sitting beneath her feet.

    I wonder what other secrets my mother is holding back from me? The Malvik thinks.

    The elevator drops to the bottom and opens up, allowing the Kraktol royals and their two Dakkit slaves, both heaving Orgon''s cryogenic coffin on their shoulders, to depart.

    Loreen beelines toward the nearest Kraktol officer, a brown-scaled female wearing a red lab-coat with yellow stripes. Upon seeing the Th��lvik''s approach, the female drops what she''s doing, steps forward, and nods politely. Unlike most other Kraktol, she doesn''t prostrate and bow, making Kisa wonder why her mother would allow such disrespect.

    "Julani Riverwalker," Loreen says, speaking the scientist''s name for Kisa''s benefit. "Good to see you again, cousin."

    The scientist nods. "And you as well, Loreen. How can I help you?"

    Her tone, almost casual, stands apart from almost all other Kraktol who Kisa has ever seen interact with her mother. Not even Drall would dare refer to the Th��lvik by her first name when others were watching, yet Julani does so without hesitation.

    If the lack of proper courtesy bothers the Th��lvik, she doesn''t show it on her face. "I need you to perform a cerebral scan. Level 2. There''s been an incident on the surface. Remember the Kessu extermination mission?"

    Julani''s eyes narrow. "How could I forget? After what those filthy furballs did to my mother and father..."

    "Yes, well, the mission failed," Loreen says. "It seems the Kessu had a secret weapon on their side. It wiped the bridge crew''s memories. I need you to gather intelligence for me regarding its capabilities."

    The Th��lvik explains what happened, and after a few minutes, Julani nods. "Kyargh! A simple matter. You brought me a subject?"

    "Yes. Commander Orgon. He''s dead, but the crew followed proper protocol and placed him in stasis."

    "Haha. Then there''s no problem," Julani replies, a nasty grin on her face. "I don''t know what tricks those Kessu pulled, but as long as I can help finish them off once and for all, I''ll give my best efforts. Bring the body over to Scanning Platform G-7."

    Loreen nods. "Let''s go."

    The group resumes walking. Loreen and Julani chat about all sorts of things, while Kisa hangs back with Lord Brighteye.

    "Father, what is this place? I didn''t even know it existed."

    Drall pats his daughter''s head. "This is our Central Intelligence Facility, the cornerstone of our success. If it weren''t for our discovery of this ancient underground Precursor structure, we would never have located the Rylon Shipyards, nor would we have become as powerful as we are today."

    Kisa nods, her jaw dropping at the revelation. "Is that why we chose Dragua as our homeworld? Because we located this place?"

    "Not quite. The Kraktol lived on Dragua for several thousand years before your mother became the Th��lvik. However, thanks to a chance discovery of this laboratory, we were able to bide our time and slowly amass enough political power to worm our way out of the Kessu''s grasp. When the revolution occurred and the Kessu left the Galactic Core, we constructed our defensive battlements here and established this world as our capital planet. Now, none dare approach without considerable firepower."

    The group strolls past a tall glass cylinder, one with a Kessu female inside, suspended within the lightly bubbling liquid. Her closed eyes betray no hints of life within her body, yet the countless observers around continuously check readings and measurements as part of their daily routines.

    "Why are there different beings inside the glass containers?" Kisa asks. "Are they alive? Dead?"

    "It''s a mixture," Drall answers. "Most of the Kraktol specimens are still alive, and some of our non-citizen prisoners are as well. However, plenty of others have long since perished."

    "Then, why preserve their bodies?" Kisa asks, bewildered. "Why not bury them? Aren''t these regeneration tanks?"

    Drall smiles.

    "No. This facility has nothing to do with healing injured warriors. However, it does have everything to do with extraction and preservation."

    Moments later, the Th��lvik slows to a stop, as does her cousin, Julani. The group arrives before an empty cylinder filled with clear liquid, and Loreen beckons to the two Dakkit slaves.

    "Place the cryo-coffin here."

    The slaves nod. They set the coffin down a few feet in front of the glass tank and take a few steps back.

    "W-what else, great Th��lvik?" Asks one of the Dakkit.

    Loreen ponders the question for a moment.

    "Hmm. Well, now that you''ve seen this facility, I can''t let you leave here alive. Kisa, be a good little girl and kill these slaves for mother."

    With only a few words, the Th��lvik casts a horrifying shadow across the two Dakkit. They glance at Kisa in alarm, but the young girl merely sighs.

    I''m already in mother''s bad graces. I... I have no choice. She''ll kill them even if I don''t.

    A wave of resignation washes through Kisa''s heart. She hardens her stomach and turns to face the Dakkit. Unable to resist due to their slave collars, the duo merely stand at attention, looks of horror on their faces.

    Ten seconds later, both of them slump to the ground, huge holes in their chests from where Kisa impaled their hearts. She stares at her blood-drenched right hand listlessly, unable to feel any emotions whatsoever.

    It never gets easier, no matter how many times mother makes me do it.

    Loreen smiles. "You were a bit faster on the uptake this time, daughter dearest. Now, take this towel and clean that filth off your claws."

    The Th��lvik tosses a black-colored towel at Kisa. She begrudgingly does as her mother orders and cleans the blood from her hands, only to watch silently as a cleanup crew arrives to cart away her two newest victims.

    While Kisa''s mood sinks to rock-bottom, her mother and Julani get to work extracting Orgon''s frozen corpse from his cryo-container. They use an anti-gravity crane to lift him up and drop him inside the circular glass tank before sealing its top. Orgon''s dimly colored yellow scales immediately brighten somewhat as Julani fiddles with a series of controls at the bottom of the tank.

    "Alright. I''m beginning the scan. Let''s see. Body integrity, stable. He''s suffered dozens of bone fractures, torn ligaments, and even his skull took a beating. Hm. It seems Orgon engaged in melee combat with an unknown attacker and got the tar knocked out of him. He died when the enemy assailant snapped his neck."

    Drall frowns. "Who could possibly outmatch Orgon to such a degree? The Kraktol are the fiercest warriors in the galaxy. Not even the most accomplished Dakkit brawler could overpower him so one-sidedly."

    "You and I could," Loreen mutters, "but not any of the Mallali I know. Naturally, the galaxy is expansive and countless trillions of sentients live within it. There are sure to be a few aberrants capable of defeating Orgon in combat."

    The Th��lvik pauses.

    "...However. This goes contrary to my original assumption. I didn''t realize Orgon took such a beating. Why would such a battle-maniac kill Orgon but spare the crew?"

    "Perhaps they were a more principled combatant," Drall suggests. "Someone who only wished to combat the fleet''s mightiest warrior. Possibly a Bulin?"

    "The Bulin are capable of matching us, and they''re certainly honorable warriors," Loreen mutters. "However, I can''t see them leaving our fleet to limp away, let alone somehow wiping our memories. The Kessu must have gotten involved."

    "Perhaps, with the Kessu''s technological knowledge and the Bulin''s strength," Drall says, "this situation could have played out the way it did."

    "We''ll find out soon enough," Loreen says, casting aside further extrapolations from her mind. "A level 2 extraction won''t take long."

    Julani turns to look at Loreen. "Any requests?"

    "Yes. Ensure the ''honesty'' setting is at 100%. I don''t want any lies or half-truths to come out of Orgon''s mouth."

    Kisa''s ears prick up. "His mouth? Huh? Are you going to make Orgon speak, mother?"

    "Something like that," Loreen says with a cruel smile. "You see, dearest, this facility is an ancient Precursor synthmind creation laboratory. We can scan the brains of dead and living organisms to create synthminds."

    "And then we can interrogate them," Drall says, his smile just as cold as Loreen''s. He crosses his arm and nods. "That was how we located the Rylon Shipyards. We captured an Avaru informant returning from a top-secret mission and forced her to give us the location."

    Julani speaks. "Orgon has suffered severe brain trauma as a result of his fight, but his memory receptors are still 94% intact. I shouldn''t have any issues extracting his personality."

    Everyone falls silent.

    Fifteen minutes pass as the Kraktol royals watch Julani''s claws move like the wind. Eventually, she finishes her work and nods.

    "Synthmind creation complete. Initializing now."

    After a few moments, a holographic projection of Orgon''s head materializes in the air beside his extraction container. His closed eyes and drooping head give off the impression of a dead man, but not long after, he slowly blinks his eyes open.

    "Graugh... ah... my head hurts... where am I?"

    After staring forward blankly, Orgon picks out the Th��lvik''s face and immediately turns pale.

    "Ah! Graugh! Great Th��lvik! I apologize, for I did not see you there!"

    The Kraktol officer performs an odd tilting motion with his holographic head, but his expression becomes even more dazed than before.

    "I... I can''t feel my arms... my legs... what happened? Where am I?"

    Loreen scratches the underside of her chin. "You''re dead."

    "Huh? How can that be? I can see you! I can talk! How am I dead??"

    "Tell me what happened aboard the Dragon''s Breath," Loreen says, ignoring Orgon''s barrage of questions. "Choose your words carefully. Your fleet went out to attack the Kessu, yet they returned via autopilot two weeks earlier than planned, with all of their memories wiped, yourself dead, and two of your top bridge officers having gone missing."

    "My daughters," Drall adds. "Megla and Soren. We can''t find them. Where did they go? What happened to your fleet?"

    Orgon''s confusion only deepens. "I... I don''t know! I was... I was leading the mission... everything was going as planned..."

    He mutters to himself for a few seconds, as if digging up his memories.

    "...Ah! Then we saw the vessel!"

    "The vessel?" Loreen asks. "What do you mean? Explain."

    "The 14th Era stealth craft! Yes, now I remember!" Orgon yells. "It came from the Kessu surface! It outmaneuvered our fighters with ease!"

    "Ah," Loreen says, her eyes flashing with insight. "I knew it. The Kessu must have sprung a trap. Did that vessel somehow attack your fleet?"

    Orgon shakes his head. "No! Not at all, great Th��lvik! Graugh! It merely tried to escape! I gave chase with the entire fleet, as I wished to capture and return it to you. I knew you would want such an advanced craft at all costs, even if it meant temporarily halting the mission."

    Loreen frowns. "You... don''t tell me you brought the entire damned fleet along! Surely you left a portion of the fleet behind to continue the mission!"

    She and Orgon spend the next several minutes playing tug of war with one another. Orgon makes several excuses regarding his choices, but those words only end up making the Th��lvik''s face morph into a specter of pure rage.

    "Insolent little SHIT! The moment you saw that Juggernaut vessel, you should have sent ships home to inform me! What were you thinking?!"

    Orgon hesitates. His face becomes a facsimile of terror.

    "I... I wanted... to please you... to... argh!"

    Julani glances at the console. "Hmph. Orgon is trying to lie."

    Drall steps forward. "You bastard. You planned to take that Juggernaut vessel for yourself! You actually thought of betraying your Th��lvik for the sake of empowering yourself!"

    "Filthy traitor," Loreen hisses. Her eyes glow with anger, but she keeps her emotions under control. "You have yet to pay the price. I''ll make sure to torture your synth-brain for an eternity over this. Now, continue. Tell me what happened next."

    Unable to resist the synthmind manipulation matrix, Orgon continues with his story, all while knowing that his deepest secrets will be laid bare.

    He details the appearance of the Precursor, their verbal battles, the bargaining over the Kessu stealth vessel, and even his fight with the Terran Admiral.

    "...After that, I don''t know what happened," Orgon says, hanging his head. He attacked me, and my vision went black. The next thing I knew, I woke up here."

    ...

    Loreen''s rage disappears. In its place, her complexion turns ashen, along with Drall and Kisa''s.

    "That''s an impossible tale..." Loreen mutters. "A living Precursor. A ghost from the past. His motivations appear bizarre... but everything adds up. This ''Terran'' tore through the hull of an Empire-Class carrier with his bare hands. He shrugged off blaster fire and trounced Orgon like it was nothing."

    "We don''t know what happened after Orgon died," Drall murmurs, "but at least I can guess how the memory erasure worked. His synthmind was highly advanced; a 50th Era design well beyond even those the Mallali covet. It must have manipulated the biochemicals within every crewman''s brain without using any specialized equipment."

    "Why... why would your daughters leave the ship, then?" Loreen asks. "Gah! Don''t tell me! Perhaps he captured them and took them to his ship to use as hostages!"

    "Hostages?" Julani asks. "Why would he need that? Our mightiest warships pose him no threat. We can''t offer him anything he needs. More likely, he wanted them for research subjects. Perhaps he intends to experiment on them to find our weaknesses."

    Kisa raises her hand. "Ah- um... but mother, father... what if he didn''t capture them? What if Megla and Soren went willingly?"

    "Willingly? Not a chance," Drall scoffs. "My little girls would never do such a thing. Megla is fiercely loyal to the Th��lvik. And as for Soren..."

    Drall hesitates.

    "...No, if it''s Soren, she might just join him. Megla is highly emotional, but Soren is logical to a fault. What if..."

    Loreen looks at Drall questioningly, and he follows up with a hypothesis.

    "...What if Soren realized the value of joining this Terran? Think about it. She''s more shrewd and cunning than either Orgon or Megla. Soren may have joined the Terran to slowly turn him into an ally of the Kraktol. She might have realized that by supporting him, she can do what Orgon couldn''t."

    "Indeed, that is a possibility," Loreen says, nodding along to Drall''s hypothesis. "But what if, instead, she defected to his side for selfish reasons? We don''t have enough information."

    "Are you implying my daughters would turn against the Kraktol empire?" Drall asks, clearly appalled. "Soren isn''t a muscle-head like Orgon. Don''t lump her in with the likes of him."

    "Greed can change a person into something unrecognizable," Loreen says. She turns to Julani and nods. "Speaking of which, start punishing Orgon for his treachery. I want him on a continual Level 3 punishment loop until further notice. Make sure his synthmind knows the pain of turning against me."

    "You know that won''t accomplish anything, cousin," Julani says. "He''s only a synthmind. The real Orgon won''t suffer at all."

    Loreen''s expression sours. "Perhaps! But it will certainly make me feel a great deal better!"

    "Very well. You are the oh-so-great Th��lvik, after all," Julani says with rolled eyes. Clearly, she doesn''t respect her cousin''s lauded title, but at the same time, Loreen doesn''t say anything about her insolence. Whatever relations the two have, they go deeper than blood.

    A few button presses later, and Orgon''s holographic head begins shrieking in pain, his face contorting into all manner of agonized expressions. His cries of anguish ring out through the facility, making many scientists turn to look at what''s happening. Upon realizing the Th��lvik walks among their ranks, they promptly turn back around and keep their noses buried in their work.

    Loreen pulls Drall aside for a private chat.

    "Alright. I''ve made up my mind. This ''Terran'' is highly dangerous. A fleet of our best warships couldn''t scratch his vessel, and Orgon turned against me due to his greed. I need someone I trust to handle this."

    Thanks to his long, storied relationship with the Th��lvik, Drall immediately understands Loreen''s intent. "You want me to travel to the Juggernaut vessel and contact the Terran, I presume?"

    "That''s right. Given how he spared the lives of our crew, it''s possible he doesn''t have any hostile intentions. You need to find out what happened to Megla and Soren, see if you can convert that Terran to our cause, and try to figure out why he would protect the Kessu. If everything Orgon said was true, then we''re dealing with an oddly principled being who may turn his vessel against us to protect our blood-enemies."

    Drall''s expression hardens. "What if he does? How should we react?"

    "We''ll cross that road when it comes," Loreen murmurs. "Right now, aside from the Kessu, we are the only beings in this galaxy who know of the Terran''s existence. His synthmind alone is powerful enough to take out an entire fleet. If we can convert him to our cause, then abandoning our revenge against the Kessu is worth it."

    "What?" Drall asks, incredulous. "You would go that far?"

    "I would. The mere fact a 50th Era vessel exists means there may be more. What if his ship''s datastores contain the locations of other top-secret facilities? This might be our shot at completely taking over the Core. The Mallali won''t stand a chance!"

    Finally, Drall nods.

    "I see. Very well. I shall do as you command."

    "Good."

    Loreen turns to walk away from Drall. "Kisa! Pack your things. You and your father are going on a mission together."

    "I am?" She asks.

    "She is?!" Drall asks, even more stunned.

    Loreen smirks.

    "Think of it as a family bonding opportunity. The Malvik needs to expand her horizons and learn what a treacherous place the galaxy really is."

    "It''s going to be dangerous," Drall says.

    "Such is life," Loreen counters.

    "...Great rewards require taking even greater risks."

 Chapter 17: Terrans Love Kittens

    700 Lightyears away, aboard the Bloodbearer.

    Admiral Jos�� Rodriguez, now out of his wheelchair after a month of recuperation, stands inside an access tunnel deep within his ship''s bowels. No longer do his muscles appear gaunt and frail. While he has yet to ascend back to his former strength, he now possesses the body of a lean, mean, killing machine.

    The Terran activates a repair tool as he gazes at a row of corroded control panels, all of their lights long-since disabled from countless millennia of inactivity. His eyes flick from left to right, a hint of confusion apparent in their movements.

    "I don''t know which is which, Umi," Jos�� says. "What do you mean ''the third relay, second switch''? The third across, or the third down? Put it in layman''s terms. I''m a soldier, not a mechanic."

    "Orders acknowledged, Admiral," Umi beeps overhead. "Since this maintenance tunnel does not have any holographic transmitters, I will use your visual implants to highlight the correct switch."

    After a moment, Jos��''s vision shifts slightly. Among the dozen or so panels before him, one of them along the top row highlights green, making him facepalm.

    "That''s the FOURTH relay, not the third! How was I supposed to figure that out?"

    "My apologies, Admiral. Several schematics for the Bloodbearer''s advanced systems have degraded in my memory-banks. I performed an advanced technique, one which you humans would call an "educated guess". Unfortunately, my extrapolation proved to be false."

    "Yeah, yeah," the Terran grumbles. "No need to beat yourself up over it. Alright, let me get in there and figure out what''s gone wrong with the circuitry."

    Jose stands on his tiptoes and barely managed to reach the topmost control panel. He slowly takes it apart to expose its internal wiring, revealing a tangled mess of melted conduits and wires millions of years in the making.

    "Bloody hell," Jos�� grunts. "What a mess."

    The poorly-illuminated chamber doesn''t hamper him much, thanks to his augmented vision. The Terran quickly tears out and rebuilds the inner core without complaint.

    "Umi, how much processing power have you recovered in the last month?" Admiral Rodriguez asks.

    "Thanks to Crewman Nyoor and Baaru''s efforts, I have recovered twenty-three percent of my computational power," Umi replies. "The Kessu crew they have brought over now number one thousand, one hundred and seven. They have repaired 100% of my internal holo-projectors, and I can now sustain a maximum of forty-seven holographic personnel."

    Jos��''s expression brightens. "Well, that''s good news. And the engines?"

    "I will complete the engine and thruster repairs within one hour, forty-five minutes, Admiral," Umi beeps. "Crewman Megla and Soren are still hard at work reattaching the frayed wiring inside my central processing matrices. I estimate their progress to be somewhere between forty and forty-seven percent complete."

    "Nice!" Jos�� says, smiling to himself. "Sounds like we''re making good prog- oop!"

    The Admiral accidentally fumbles with his fingers and drops the hypospanner. It smacks him in the face before clattering to the ground.

    "Shit! Fuck, that hurt!"

    Admiral Rodriguez closes his eyes and sighs for a moment as he massages his aching temples. "This damned switch network is so high up that I have to hold the spanner with my fingertips."

    "I recommend standing on a chair, Admiral."

    Jos�� scoffs. "Pah! Are you making fun of me?"

    "Negative, Admiral. Utilizing a chair would allow you to reach elevated areas more easily."

    With a shake of his head, Jos�� sighs. "Nobody likes a smartass, Umi."

    He lowers his gaze to the ground and starts to reach for the hyperspanner, only to catch sight of an unknown object out of the corner of his eye, one that wasn''t there a minute ago.

    "Augh! Sweet mother of- god dammit, Lele! You scared the sh- you scared the poop out of me!"

    The Admiral swallows several curses as he turns around to look at the small Kessu girl standing behind him, a satisfied grin on her face.

    "Haha! I got you good, Big Baldy!"

    Little Lele, Ruuki''s daughter and Nyoor''s grand-daughter, sticks her tongue out at Jos�� and chuckles to herself, clearly pleased with her sneaking skills. She calls the Admiral by a nickname she came up with, one that refers to his mostly-hairless body.

    Jos��, meanwhile, pats his racing heart and allows it to settle. "D-don''t sneak up on me, you little brat. I might have smacked you if you''d startled me any harder."

    Lele plops on her butt and grins cheekily. "What are you doing in here, Big Baldy? I saw that little tunnel door was open, so I wanted to see what was inside."

    Glancing past the child, Jos�� takes notice of the crawlspace access tunnel leading from the Bloodbearer''s main hallways into the small, confined chamber. "What have I told you about curiosity killing the cat? Don''t go poking around in random places, kiddo. There are all sorts of exposed wires and other dangerous things lying around that could hurt you."

    The girl shrugs. "I didn''t get hurt, so it''s fine."

    The Terran scratches the back of his head awkwardly for a moment before sighing. "Where''s your father? Shouldn''t you be with him or out there playing with the other kittens?"

    "I''m not a little girl anymore!" Lele pouts. She plops on her butt and starts licking the fur on her arm. "I don''t wanna sit around and play all day. I wanna help!"

    After a moment of hesitation, she adds, "Besides. The other kids don''t even..."

    Lele trails off, leaving an implication hanging in the air. Jos�� lowers himself to his knees so he isn''t towering over the child. "Hm? What''s wrong? Don''t you have any friends your age?"

    The little girl stops licking herself. She turns her head to the side and doesn''t meet Jos��''s gaze. "...No. Not really."

    "Why not?"

    "I dunno..." Lele replies, scratching her arm absentmindedly. "I just don''t. The other kids are all babies. They don''t understand anything."

    "So you came here to bug me, then?" Jos�� asks, forcing a smile. "I''m pretty busy, you know. I have a lot of repairs to perform."

    "I can help!" The kitten says, raising her paw. "I''m super smart!"

    Jos�� reaches over and rubs her head, making her smile. "Yes, I''m sure you are. If you want, you can sit there and watch. Don''t touch anything, though."

    Without giving the child much more thought, Jos�� grabs the hyperspanner from where it fell and rises to his feet. He turns around to resume his work, while Lele meows from behind him, "Okay!"

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    The Admiral resumes his work, occasionally glancing behind himself to make sure the child isn''t touching anything she shouldn''t. To her credit, Lele sits still for the most part, her tail wagging back and forth behind her back as she watches the Terran work.

    "Whatcha doing?" Lele asks, after a few minutes.

    Admiral Rodriguez grunts. "It''s a bit complicated. I don''t know if I could explain it in a way you''d understand."

    "Psh. Try me!" Lele laughs. "Like I said, I''m pretty smart."

    Jos�� adjusts a routing component and clicks it back into place. "Mmm. Well, you know how Umi talks to us, right?"

    "The synthmind? Yeah!"

    "Hm? I thought the Kessu called her a Machine God?" Jos�� says, glancing back at Lele in confusion.

    "Well, the others do. I''m not as dumb as them!" Lele brags. "I know all sorts of things."

    "Like what?" Scoffs the Admiral.

    "Well, that gadget in your hand, for example. It''s a hyper-slapper."

    "Hyper-spanner," Jos�� corrects. "But you''re pretty close."

    The Admiral lowers his arms and cracks his neck. "What does a hyperspanner do, smarty-pants?"

    "Fixes stuff," Lele says, with a tone that indicates it''s the most obvious answer in the world. Jos�� turns around and nearly has a heart attack when he sees the child grab one of his spare hypo-spanners. "See? These buttons here turn on the blowtorch function for welding!"

    "Careful!" Jos�� says. He drops down and snatches the tool from her hands. "You''ll hurt yourself! Kids shouldn''t mess with dangerous equipment."

    As Jos�� takes the tool from Lele, a strange expression passes over Lele''s face. She flattens her ears and lowers her head. "Oh... sorry."

    A sensation of guilt washes down Jos��''s back. Feeling awkward, he stands up and rubs his chin. "Err, no, I''m sorry. Ah, I overreacted a little. I just... I don''t think kids should be touching stuff like this."

    Lele doesn''t raise her head. "Why not? Do... do you think I''m stupid?"

    Before Jos�� can answer, she lowers her head even further. "Everyone else does."

    Taken aback, Jos�� stares at the child with a distant look. Memories of countless other children he''s rescued over the years play in his mind, making him re-evaluate Lele with a different thought process.

    "No. You''re not stupid. Don''t... don''t say things like that, kiddo."

    With a quiet sigh, Jos�� sets down both hyperspanners, moves toward Lele, and plunks down beside her.

    He wraps his arm around the little girl and gently squeezes her shoulder. "What''s the matter? You seem really down today."

    Lele sniffles.

    "I want to help, but nobody lets me. Everyone tells me I''m always in the way. I feel useless."

    The kitten leans to the side and rests her head against Jos��''s ribs.

    Feeling even guiltier than before, Jos�� glances up at the control panels.

    I never take the time time to pay attention to the crew. Admiral Baruchen would always sit down and listen to any officer if they had a problem, yet I haven''t even done the bare minimum. This poor kid''s so depressed and starving for attention, but I never noticed. Not to mention her father might be dead, on Tarus II...

    After a few moments of silence, Jos�� clears his throat. "Erm. Well, uh, actually, I''ve been thinking about all this work I have to do. It''s pretty hard and it always eats up my time. If you''re not busy..."

    He trails off, deliberately leaving the second half of the sentence vague and mysterious.

    Lele perks her ears up. "Yeah?"

    "Well," Jos�� continues, "I could have you take the Basic Officer Exam. If you pass, you could become a full member of the crew. Then you could even become my assistant!"

    "Your assistant?!" Lele yelps. She pulls away and jumps to her feet. "Can I really?"

    "Oh, sure," Jos�� says, forcing a stiff expression. He assumes what can only be described as a ''military officer''s face'' and addresses the child with a solemn tone. "However, becoming an officer is not something a mere child can do. You have to be mature and resourceful. You''ll have to work hard to prove your worth."

    The Admiral raises his eyes to the ceiling. "Eh, I don''t know. It might be too hard for you. Maybe I should find someone else..."

    "No, no!" Lele yells, panicked. "I can do it! I''m super smart!"

    "Well, you''ll have to answer some questions, and then I''ll take you over to a computer terminal for a little homework. After that, I''ll do a little on-the-job training. How does that sound?"

    "Homework?" Lele asks, cocking her head. "Like... sweeping the porch?"

    "No, that''s housework, child. Here, follow me outside for a bit. I''ll show you how the Official Crewmember Test works."

    Lele practically jumps for joy. "Okay! Let''s go! Let''s go!"

    Unlike her somewhat despondent attitude from before, the little girl seems all too eager to get to work, making Jos�� chuckle internally.

    I wonder if raising human kids would have been about the same?

    The Admiral gets down on his knees and shimmies through the crawlspace with Lele right behind him.

    ...

    Twenty minutes later, Jos�� plops Lele down in a comfortable curved metal chair. He turns a large computer display to face her and gestures toward its screen.

    "We''ll conduct the test here. "Umi, pull up an appropriate beginner technician module for Lele. Let''s see how she handles it."

    Umi beeps in reply. "Error. Due to data corruption, I no longer possess any crew training manuals in my memory files. Would you like me to synthesize a new one from scratch?"

    Jos�� frowns. "Hm, yes. Don''t make it too complicated. We''ll start with the basics and work our way up."

    Lele holds her head up haughtily. "Hmph! I can take it! Try me!"

    "Scanning interim crew-member Lele''s brain. Creating new training module. Processing. Processing."

    "New training module created: Advanced Technical Engineering 205b. I will now display the relevant files onscreen."

    "Huh?" Jos�� mutters. "That doesn''t sound like a beginner module at all."

    Indeed, as Jos�� looks at the computer screen, a massive array of technical charts, schematic layouts, and circuitry graphics appear, making Jos��''s eyes pop out of his head.

    "Mother of- Umi! These aren''t for newbies!"

    "Affirmative, Admiral. Based on my initial cerebral scans of interim crew-member Lele, I have judged her memory score to be around 125, while her comprehension score would be somewhere around 150. For comparison, your last noted scores were 185.5 and 212.7, respectively."

    Jos�� balks. "Well, those numbers are... beyond impressive, especially for an unaugmented child, but still! How can she possibly understand these complicated diagrams?"

    The Admiral leans in even closer to the screen. With a frown, he adds, "I barely even know what I''m looking at. What are all of these diagrams for, anyway?"

    "Admiral. The data being displayed on your screen is all I have left of the files for constructing biomechanical automated war constructs, such as the Legion-Class Bipedal Exodroid, an Automated MK.III Excavation Construct, and a Harrier-Class Stealth Mechanoid. While these machines are somewhat complex, I believe the interim crew-member may be able to comprehend their inner workings, and thus reach a deeper understanding of electronics in general."

    The Admiral glances at Lele. "Well? What do you think? Is this stuff too complicated for you?"

    Lele crosses her arms. "I dunno. Hmm..."

    The little girl stares at the screen with a look of intense concentration. She scrunches up her face and makes a series of odd expressions, all of them resembling different stages of confusion.

    Internally, Jos�� sighs. Oh, Umi. Why must you torture the poor girl. Not even I had an eye for engineering when I was her age. How could a kid from a primitive world understand this crap?

    Indeed, Lele shakes her head. "Geez. These pictures don''t make any sense."

    Jos�� nods. "That''s fine. If you can''t understand the pictures, I''ll have Umi make something easier for you. There''s no shame in starting from the basics. Why, when I was your age-"

    "No, Baldy! That''s not what I mean!" Lele says, her irritation evident. "These circuits are all wrong! Look! Why does connector CL21 plug into CL12? Someone got the numbers jumbled up! What a dummy! And look at this one, someone set the temperature thingy too high! It''ll melt the coupling!"

    Lele fires off another half-dozen points, indicating the shoddy worksmanship of the diagrams, but all Jos�� can do is scratch his head.

    "Oh? Is that true? I don''t have a clue, kid. This stuff''s way out of my area of expertise."

    "Admiral," Umi says, "Interim crew-member Lele is correct. It appears the blueprints I displayed are using faulty data, due to my memory core''s degradation. I unexpectedly synthesized incorrect versions of the various fabrication charts. If I apply the corrections the interim crew-member suggested, the robots will function properly when built."

    Several seconds of silence pass.

    Jos�� stares, his mouth agape, at the child. "Huh? How could you possibly understand all of this? Have you tinkered with robots before? Are you a genius?"

    "Well. Only a little," Lele says while shrugging. "My Aunt Lorrie used to show me all kinds of old Precursor stuff when I visited her. It''s not that complicated. You just make sure everything lines up, and then it all will work. What''s so hard about that?"

    "What''s so hard about that?" Jos�� repeats while rubbing his eyes. "Never mind. I can''t believe you actually understand this stuff. I wish I''d known sooner."

    With a long, drawn-out groan, Jos�� rises up and pats the child''s head. "Not bad. Alright, I''ll make you an official member of the crew! However, you have to do as I say, understand? Don''t go licking engine grease off the floor or other weird things like that."

    Lele scrunches up her face in disgust. "Eww, what do you think I am, a nasty scale-fart? I''d never do that!"

    "I''m kidding, I''m kidding," Jos�� chuckles. He lifts Lele up and thumps her on his shoulders. "Alright, piggyback time. You''re gonna help me get to those high-up and down-low spots I''ve been having trouble with, alright?"

    "Yay!" Lele yells, her depression a distant memory. "I get to help Big Baldy!"

    The Admiral rolls his eyes. "We''ll have to do something about your penchant for nicknames, little lady."

    As Jos�� makes his way back to the crawlspace, Umi beeps overhead. "I will have the engine and thrusters repaired and operational in one hour, Admiral. Additionally, Kessu Crew-member Nyoor will arrive aboard the Bloodbearer in thirty-five minutes with the final batch of Kessu refugees."

    "Great," Jos�� says, smiling. "Seems like everything''s working out just fine."

    The Terran and his little companion continue their work, all while the deadline to enter Inverted Space approached.

 Chapter 18: Rapid Reconstruction

    Admiral Rodriguez strolls across the Bloodbearer''s flight deck, a faint smile on his face. Little Lele rides on his shoulders, piggyback-style, and points excitedly at a ship that''s just landed.

    "It''s grandpa and grandma!"

    Jos�� sets the kitten down as the bullet-shaped vessel begins to lower its entry ramp. Half a minute later, dozens of Kessu begin exiting the craft, their movements somewhat hesitant. Only the two in front stride with purpose; Nyoor and Baaru.

    Baaru helps Nyoor to the bottom, ensuring he doesn''t slip and fall off the ramp. Once they arrive, she stoops down to hug her granddaughter. "Lele! It''s good to see you again, darling! Were you on your best behavior? Did you remember to be polite? I hope you didn''t bug the great Precursor again."

    While Baaru and Lele chat with one another, Jos��''s eyes sweep across the huge number of Kessu the two elders have brought back.

    "Umi. How many in total?"

    "Crew-members Nyoor and Baaru have retrieved an additional seventy-four Kessu from Tarus II, Admiral. The number of Kessu aboard the Bloodbearer now exceeds 1,200."

    Jos�� smiles. "That''s a great deal more than I originally expected. Now that we''ve repaired all of your holo-emitters, you can handle the rough stuff. I''ll put the Kessu in charge of cleaning every corner of the ship, as well as other miscellaneous chores. Keep an eye out for newcomers with especially high aptitudes in critical areas. Landing another technician was a stroke of fortune."

    Glancing at Little Lele, Jos�� smiles inwardly.

    Incredibly fortunate, indeed.

    "Orders received, Admiral," Umi beeps. "My next recommendation is to teach the Kessu to repair inaccessible support pylons and other crawlway-specific areas where the Bloodbearer''s holographic crew cannot reach. Roughly thirty percent of the Bloodbearer''s interior remains inaccessible to me. Therefore, I will require assistance with those departments."

    "Now that the engines are online," Jos�� says, "we need to worry about getting several weapons repaired. Third Era synthminds are one thing, but I don''t imagine your little takeover-trick will work on ships more advanced than the 15th, possibly even the 10th Era. If a small fleet of 15th Era vessels appears, we may not survive."

    "I concur, Admiral. Unlike most technologies developed over time, synthmind advancements peaked around the 15th Era and only made incremental advancements over the following eras."

    Jos��''s eye twitches. "Tch. You can thank Orion Corp for that. Damned patent squatters and their armies of lawyers..."

    "Orion Corp was not the sole entity responsible for the stagnation of synthmind development," Umi says, correcting Jos��. "They only led the charge. It was the unified efforts of several organizations, including the Terran Trust, the Third Hand, and Ramma''s Chosen that allowed them to create a stranglehold on synthmind improvement."

    "Yeah, yeah..." Jos�� mutters. "As if I didn''t know..."

    The Admiral falls silent for a few moments as all of the newly arrived Kessu stand before him, the army of seventy-something cat-aliens staring with their big, wide kitty eyes.

    "Wow! Nyoor was telling the truth!"

    "The Precursor is so huge! He''s like a mountain!"

    "Prraw! Something about him makes my heart swell with anticipation!"

    The newly arrived Kessu come in all shapes and sizes. The tallest among them stand about five feet tall, while the shortest who aren''t kittens only stand about three feet tall. Most of them purr and meow as they gaze at the Precursor in awe, a being twice their size with a handsome, hairy face.

    Admiral Rodriguez waves politely. "Hello, everyone, and welcome to the Bloodbearer, your new home. I hope you haven''t suffered too greatly due to the Kraktol''s sudden attack on your world."

    One of the taller newcomers, a black leopard-looking fellow in his prime, smiles cordially. "No, no, not at all. We didn''t even know the Kraktol had attacked! It seems they didn''t make it to our side of the world before leaving!"

    "Oh? That''s fortunate," Admiral Rodriguez says. "Well, in any case, you came here, and I appreciate your presence. How many more Kessu are there on your world, do you know?"

    "Not many," A different Calico-colored Kessu answers. "Our people live in small, tightly-knit villages. Only the capital city of Tarus II has a population greater than five hundred. I think there might be another seventy or eighty thousand across the whole planet, at most."

    "Huh, only eighty thousand..." Jos�� grunts, an odd look in his eyes. "Is that so? Well, welcome aboard. I''m sure Nyoor told you, but we have two Kraktol officers here, and both of them are, for the most part, friendly. Please don''t bully them. Soren will give you your tasks after Baaru shows you around. For now, I need to talk to Nyoor. I''ll hold a meeting with all of the Kessu aboard the Bloodbearer tomorrow, so make sure you''re there."

    "Naturally!"

    "Of course, great Precursor!"

    "Wouldn''t miss it for the world."

    The newcomers nod along politely, making Jos�� smile. Wow, they''re all so darn cute. If only I had more time in the day, I''d love to pet all their little heads!

    After the new arrivals depart, Jos�� kneels down to Nyoor''s level. The Patriarch rests a paw on his grand-daughter''s shoulder, while she beams a smile at the Terran.

    "Nyoor," Jos�� says. "The Bloodbearer''s engines should be repaired and ready for departure within the next few minutes. You can take the next month off. There''s no point trying to fly back for another group of Kessu, since the Bloodbearer will arrive before you."

    Nyoor cocks his head. "Hmm? I do not understand. Didn''t you once say it would take you a month to arrive at the planet once the Machine God started flying, great Precursor?"

    "Ah, yes," Jos�� answers, awkwardly scratching his head. "But we''ll arrive at Tarus II instantly. That is, the galactic transfer time will only require a split second for our arrival, while the time we perceive will be a bit over a month."

    The Terran hesitates.

    "It''s... complicated. Just know that if you try to fly the Slipstream ahead of us, you''ll show up a whole day late."

    The elder Kessu appears greatly confused, but he tries to act like he understands. "Hm, yes, yes, of course. One second equals one month. Precursor magic sure is something."

    Lele giggles. "It''s just basic temporal mechanics, grandpa!"

    "Naturally!" Nyoor says, his tail swishing back and forth anxiously. "I think I get the gist. Yes, so, in that case, I''ll take some time to rest my aching knees. I could use a good sit-down, right about now."

    While the elderly cat rubs his chest-fur to soothe his nerves, Jos�� frowns internally.

    I should take a day or two to examine our medical imaging technology. Old age isn''t something unconquerable. Perhaps I can help bring back Nyoor''s vitality. He''s helped out not only me, but the rest of his people tremendously over the last month. It would be a damned shame if he continued to suffer easily preventable physical pain.

    However, not wanting to get Nyoor''s hopes up, Jos�� instead gently rubs the elder''s head, instantly brightening his day. "That''s right, mister kitty. You just go and rest your weary legs. You and your wife can take a well-earned vacation."

    After saying his goodbyes, Jos�� allows Lele to lead her grandpa away, leaving the Terran alone.

    "Alright, Umi," Jos�� says. "We''ve got this ship in tip-top shape. There''s no reason to dawdle anymore. As soon as the engines are online, chart a course out of this plasma cloud and take us to Tarus II. Make sure to set the Dilation Matrix''s size and length to the maximum to extend our repair times as much as possible."

    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    "Orders acknowledged, Admiral," Umi beeps. "I assume that you will handle the weapon repairs yourself?"

    "Correct. Soren is probably smart enough to assist me, but I''d rather have her training and educating the new Kessu arrivals in between repairing your CPU Matrices. 50th Era weapons are extremely complex. I don''t think she could repair them without my help."

    Continuing, Jos�� adds, "Incidentally, which of our small craft are the most likely to be useful for external repairs?"

    Umi beeps again. "While the Slipstream is capable of performing basic repairs, its primary function is to act as a stealth and observation craft. Unfortunately, all of the repair-type craft have fallen into extreme disrepair. My best recommendation is to spend three days restoring twenty-three broken components aboard the UTC Hornet, a 50th Era light interceptor with extreme maneuverability. You can use its small, light frame in conjunction with your void-resistant body to perform the repairs manually."

    Jos�� frowns. "You want me to go out into the void and perform repairs with only my skin to protect me? That was fine before you ripped out my combat implants, but even with the newly-added prototype implants, my body is much weaker than before."

    "Affirmative, Admiral. I will equip you with an Immortal-Class void-suit. As per Ramma''s partnership with Orion Corp, it was a suit capable of recycling oxygen indefinitely. So long as it has battery power or nearby solar energy, it can keep your body oxygenated forever."

    "Alright. That will have to do," Jos�� replies. "Synthesize one of those suits for me. In the meantime, I''ll start repairs on the UTC Hornet. Oh, and Umi?"

    "Yes, Admiral?"

    "I want the long-range transport matrix online before we arrive at Tarus II. We''ll need teleportation at our fingertips if we hope to collect 80,000 Kessu in an expedient manner. Think you can manage that?"

    "I have a 75% confidence rating of completing that task by the designated time, assuming you wish for me to complete the other tasks you''ve assigned as well. The faster that officers Soren and Megla repair my CPU cores, the higher my predictive threshold will rise."

    "Great. That''s the positivity I like to hear."

    ...

    Not long afterward, the Bloodbearer''s frame begins to hum with energy. Across all of its inner decks, Umi''s voice booms from overhead.

    "Attention all crew. The UTC Bloodbearer will enter Inverted Space in T-minus fifteen seconds and counting. Fourteen. Thirteen. Twelve..."

    After arriving on the Bridge, Jos�� stands at attention, his eyes focused on a series of graphs, all of them indicating various levels of activity from the ship''s subsystems. The Admiral quietly taps a few buttons when one of the systems starts showing irregular activity, and he brings its numbers back into line.

    "...Three. Two. One. Initiating a Folded Space jump."

    Suddenly, the entire Bloodbearer rattles hard enough to jar everyone''s insides, making dozens of Kessu across its decks fall to their knees and dry-heave. Five seconds later, the ship stops shaking, and Jos�� breathes a sigh of relief.

    "Initiation of Inverted Space entry complete. The Bloodbearer''s momentum compensators buckled for five seconds during the jump, but stabilized shortly afterward. Otherwise, I did not detect any issues with the ship''s internal systems."

    Jos�� clutches his stomach, feeling slightly nauseous. "Cripes. Ergh. Talk about a... a bumpy ride. Divine Emperor, guide me..."

    The Admiral plops down in a chair and taps a button on a nearby console. "This is Admiral Rodriguez to all decks. Is anyone injured? Report to the nearest sickbay at once if you''re experiencing hallucinations or... or anything weird."

    Unsure what other symptoms people might experience, Jos�� ends the all-decks page with another press of a button. "Dios m��o... I''m a soldier, not a doctor. Umi, take care of any complications, but let me know if anyone is severely injured."

    "Affirmative, Admiral."

    .......................................

    Several weeks pass like the wind. Jos�� repairs the miniature ship, the Hornet, and gets to work repairing the outer hull. The first time he leaves, Soren and Megla freak out over his safety, but he assures them with a quick and simple explanation.

    "Folded Space doesn''t function the way Trifrancium drives do. The ship remains stationary while the bubble of space around us travels through the universe. As long as I stay within the ''bubble'' enveloping the Bloodbearer, I can perform external repairs without any issues."

    Jos�� hesitates.

    "...However, should I pass through the Folded Space''s dilation bubble... my ship and everything inside it will instantly disintegrate at the atomic level."

    "What?!" Megla cries. "That''s horrifying!"

    "It''s fine!" Jos�� laughs. "Only a fresh recruit would do something that idiotic. The bubble''s radius is actually quite obvious. The Hornet can detect it even with the most basic of sensors. I''ll be fine."

    And so, the Admiral carries out his plan. He repairs more than two dozen exterior weapons, aiming to fix at least one on every side of the ship, reducing the Bloodbearer''s blind spots to near nothing.

    "Hmm, that''s good enough for now. Next, the holodeck."

    Admiral Rodriguez repairs ten percent of the ship''s weapons before calling it quits. Due to the Bloodbearer''s heavy armaments, he deems it unlikely that any attack force in the modern era could sufficiently threaten him in combat power, at least for the moment.

    If I ever need to repair the ship, all I''d have to do is enter Inverted Space. I can travel across the galaxy and spend several years restoring the Bloodbearer to its maximum capacity before re-entering normal-space.

    The Admiral turns his attention to the Holodeck, a giant holographic projection facility capable of simulating entire worlds.

    This place will be ideal for training the Kessu into competent warriors, along with Soren, Megla, and myself. I need time to adapt to my newly installed combat augments.

    As the weeks pass, Umi gives Jos�� frequent updates.

    "Admiral, my CPU Matrices are now 75% restored. I can now rapidly perform mid-level calculative tasks once provided with enough data."

    "Admiral, my memory-banks storage capacity has returned to 100%. The next time we come into contact with another vessel, I will be able to download their entire database without issues."

    "Admiral, the Bloodbearer''s biomatter storage now rests at 1.6 metric tons. I estimate another month of storage if current consumption needs remain steady. If you repair the biomatter recirculation systems, I will be able to provide sustenance for the crew indefinitely, albeit at a lower level of quality."

    The last one piques the Admiral''s interest. "Recycling feces and piss. Yeah, I suppose we have to consider that. Once we reach Tarus II, assuming we fill the Bloodbearer to capacity with Kessu and biomatter, how much time will our fully restocked reserves last?"

    "I am unable to give an exact time-frame due to different Kessu subspecies potentially having different dietary requirements. However, based upon the current consumption speed and the fact that the Bloodbearer''s maximum biomatter storage is 32,651 tonnes, I estimate we will be able to feed 90,000 crew-members for as long as three years."

    "Without any biomatter circulation?" Jos�� asks.

    "Affirmative."

    "I''ll add that to the to-do list, then."

    The Admiral shakes his head and laughs wryly.

    There''s always something left to fix. What a headache.

    Slowly, the Terran begins to wander away from the Bridge. Having spent the past three months working nonstop on repairs, his arrival time to Tarus II has drawn nearer than ever.

    We''ll make planetfall in the next few days. I''ve repaired enough of our weapons and improved Umi''s CPU power to the point where she can self-repair without my assistance for a while. The Kessu can be trained with Umi''s automated teaching subsystems, too. I think my next priority should be to adapt to my new biomods and their combat potential.

    The Admiral flexes his arms. He frowns as he feels the somewhat mediocre power flowing through his muscles.

    Hm. I don''t have Dermal Armor anymore. My muscle enhancing biomods will take another year or so to get me back to my previous strength, though once they do I may end up stronger than before. Perhaps I should run a routine ''ComSAT'' on Megla and Soren to confirm their combat potential. Afterward, I can look into adapting biomods to improve their bodies. As my two strongest allies, I''ll want them to be able to fully support me.

    Jos�� steps through the Bridge''s entryway, only to pause midstride and stare forward blankly at the wall.

    Soren. Megla. Can I trust them? They''ve complied with all of my orders, and they''ve given me plenty of reason to trust them... but I always wonder if there isn''t some ploy underfoot. Soren seems like she might genuinely enjoy following my orders, but what about Megla? She only came along at her sister''s behest. If I implant biomods inside of her, she''ll become more of a threat to me.

    ...I don''t think that''s right, though, Jos�� continues thinking, his eyes vacantly fixed on the wall ahead. Both of them had the perfect opportunity to kill me when my defenses were down. I was at my weakest during and after the Level 4 surgery, and they didn''t touch me.

    Yes. I''m overthinking things. If the Kraktol were planning to kill or capture me, they would have done so by now. Perhaps the others of their species still would happily harm me, but I don''t think Soren and Megla would.

    With a quiet nod to himself, Jos�� resumes course for the holodeck.

    I need to be less suspicious at times like this. If I enhance Soren and Megla, I can turn them into powerhouses. Who knows? Given time, if they should return to their homeworld, perhaps they would have the strength to make a change. Maybe they could overthrow the Th��lvik and rid their species of its hatred of the Kessu.

    Wouldn''t that be a nice ending to the Kraktol''s story?

    Admiral Rodriguez smiles.

    Forgiveness. The most human trait. If I can bring only one concept to the galaxy, I hope it will be to forgive one''s enemies. Hatred only consumes the one who dwells upon it daily.

    Jos�� clears his throat. "Umi. Contact officers Soren and Megla. Tell them to meet me at the holodeck. Oh, but also tell them to take a sonic shower, first. We''re going to be there a while."

    "Acknowledged, Admiral. I will inform the Kraktol at once. Are you planning to engage in simulated holographic combat?"

    "Yes. Do you have any files left regarding cadet training?"

    "Negative, Admiral. All of my holo-file records have degraded into garbage data. Since you still have functional memories from your days training aboard the Bloodbearer, I could attempt a memory extraction to reconstruct their parameters."

    "Sure, that will work. Let me know when you finish, Umi."

    The synthmind''s voice shifts slightly, giving her tone a hint of pride. "Affirmative, Admiral. Thanks to my newly improved processing matrices, I will not require more than an hour to reconstruct all of the different tiers of training material."

    "I love this new positive attitude you''ve taken on, Umi," Jos�� chuckles. "I''ll grab some grub first, then head to the holodeck."

    "Acknowledged, Admiral."

 Chapter 19: Holodeck Training

    Megla and Soren slowly walk toward the holodeck while chattering to each other about the various happenings around the Bloodbearer. Their heavy, reptilian claws clang against the metallic deckplates with every step they take, announcing their presence wherever they go. Occasionally, one or two Kessu will run past them and either wave or retract their gaze. Those who wave usually end up being the Kessu who didn''t suffer any attacks from the Kraktol invasion fleet, while the others are almost always the opposite.

    "We should arrive at the Kessu homeworld in the next week or so," Megla says. "I''m looking forward to getting some sunlight. I''d kill for a good swim. I feel like my last saltwater soak was years ago."

    Soren nods. "My scales do feel somewhat ashy. We should ask the Admiral if we can install a saltwater pool. It won''t perfectly meet our needs, but it will help. Merely splashing water on myself isn''t enough to keep me moisturized."

    Megla lolls her head back. "Ugh. I haven''t gone on a good hunt in ages, either. I feel like I''m going to go mad if I have to tear apart one more damned CPU matrix. Engineering is so BORING!"

    "I like it..." Soren mutters, lowering her head bashfully. "Perhaps, once we get the ship fixed, you won''t have to help with repairs anymore. I''m sure the Admiral will give you a job more befitting your abilities."

    "Kyargh! Boy, I sure hope so!"

    The two sisters chat some more as they walk down the hallway. Eventually, their destination comes into view, a giant double-door leading into one of the larger facilities aboard the Bloodbearer. Outside, the Terran Admiral leans against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. Jos�� mutters under his breath, clearly communicating with Umi, though what his words are, the Kraktol can''t tell.

    "Hello, Admiral," Soren says respectfully as she approaches. "We cleaned up, just like you asked."

    "Hi," Megla says, her words noticeably less formal. "What''s this all about?"

    Jos�� notices the grumpiness in Megla''s tone. "You two have probably been getting sick of standing around, fixing Umi''s processors day in and day out. At this point, I think she can repair those systems herself with her holographic crew. Why don''t we take a day off and engage in some light training?"

    The moment Jos�� finishes speaking, a spark ignites in Megla''s eyes. Her downcast and grumpy expression disappears as she darts toward the Admiral and grabs his shoulders. "Really?! Are you serious?! We don''t have to clean out the rust from those stupid processor bits anymore?!"

    "Well," Jos�� mutters, scratching his chin sheepishly, "it wouldn''t hurt to help out a little longer. But for now, you can stop."

    "Kyargh! That''s great! I''m ready for anything you throw at me!" Megla exclaims. She retracts her claws and howls with delight, then beats her chest like a gorilla. Jos�� merely scrunches up his face in confusion and shakes his head.

    It seems I underestimated Megla''s hatred of repetitive work, the Admiral''s expression seems to say.

    For once, Soren chuckles quietly. Her monotone exterior cracks for a moment as she witnesses her sister howling for delight. "Hehe. You''ve had it rough, sister."

    "Damn right, I have!" Megla says, nodding her head vigorously. "Alright, Admiral! What are we waiting for? Chop, chop!"

    Jos�� steps in front of the holodeck doors and beckons inside. "After you."

    A minute later, the three bipeds arrive inside the holodeck, and its doors shut behind them. Jose gestures at the large, empty room. "Are you two familiar with holodecks?"

    "I''ve seen a few design schematics," Soren says. "I understand how they work, but I''ve never set foot in one."

    "I haven''t either," Megla admits, shrugging her shoulders, "but I''m guessing they project holograms."

    "Haha. Something like that," Jos�� answers. "Holodecks can simulate cities, countries, and even worlds. They can create an almost limitless space around you by turning the real world into an illusory one. The first holodecks were created in the 7th era, but they were extremely primitive compared to modern desi- err, well, 50th Era designs. I suppose they''re not that modern anymore."

    The Admiral continues. "As you walk toward one of the far walls, the holodeck will shift the world around you imperceptibly, tricking your brain into turning slightly as you walk. Without meaning to, you''ll end up walking in circles, giving the illusory space a sensation of endlessness. The main purpose of putting a holodeck aboard a warship like the Bloodbearer is to train troops, allowing them to reach new echelons of power they only previously thought possible."

    "What sort of training do you have planned for us, Admiral?" Soren asks.

    "I have several types in mind. I already had Umi create several potential simulations. I''ll test both of your mental and physical capabilities. Unlike the medical text you received a couple of months ago, the point of training is to find out your real world experience. A soldier with a strength rating of 500 can theoretically tear steel apart with his bare hands, but such strength will be useless in the face of a cunning adversary who slips out of his grip and targets his vital areas."

    "That makes sense," Soren says. "I''m very interested in the types of simulations the holodeck can create."

    Nodding, Jos�� closes his eyes for a moment and transmits a complicated series of mental commands to Umi, rapid-fire. The holodeck transforms into a cityscape, with the human and his Kraktol companions standing atop the roof of a skyscraper. Ahead of them, thousands of structures line up into the horizon, ending at the edge of a vast ocean, its glittering waves reflecting the distant sunlight.

    Seagulls caw as they fly overhead. Twenty stories below, on the asphalt-covered streets, hovering vehicles travel back and forth, their large frames looking like specks of dust from above. Fifteen massive aircraft hover in the skies above, acting as watchful protectors of whatever planet Jos�� happens to have summoned.

    Immediately, Soren and Megla recoil from the building''s edge, a look of alarm on their faces. Megla clutches her throat, trying not to vomit. "Gurk! A-Admiral! Don''t... don''t change the scenery so quickly! You''ll make us n-nauseous..."

    Soren swallows her lunch, a sickly expression on her face. "Yes, Admiral. Th-that took me by surprise..."

    "Sorry," Jos�� says, a look of honest reproach on his face. "I didn''t realize you were afraid of heights."

    "I''m not," Megla retorts, "but to have the scenery shift around me like that was sickening."

    The Admiral nods. "I''ll keep that in mind next time and give you both a warning."

    Soren overcomes her nausea after a few moments. She wanders back to the roof''s edge, while Megla joins her shortly afterward. "Where is this place, Admiral? I''ve never seen so many advanced-looking structures! They look like they''re made out of diamonds!"

    "This is my homeworld, Alaria," Jos�� says, a sad smile on his face. "It''s where I was born. I used to visit my family here all the time. Can''t do that anymore, sadly."

    The Kraktol both nod sympathetically. They remain silent and wait for the Admiral to recover. After a moment of gazing into the distance, Jos�� continues speaking.

    "Alaria was a world of innovation and prosperity. I wasn''t fortunate enough to grow up in a wealthy household, though. Quite the opposite. My father was a mid-level bio-engineer, while my mother freelanced for Orion Corp and other such corporations, so long as it meant they could pay the bills. The cost of living on Alaria was extreme enough that moving offworld was impossible for people trapped in the lower-rungs, but low enough that they could hold out hope they might someday break free of their financial shackles."

    "I eventually joined a military enclave at age 16," Jos�� adds, "and later became one of Ramma''s Chosen through a fortuitous encounter. My older brother and younger sister weren''t so lucky. They ended up as grunts on the frontline in the war against a vicious slaver king who wished to turn the galaxy into his personal playground. I attended their funerals before reaching my hundredth year of age."

    "That''s unfortunate," Soren says, her tone sympathetic.

    "Such is life. In any case, I didn''t bring you here to reminisce on my life''s story. I just wanted to show you the capabilities of the Holodeck. As you can see, it can simulate distance perfectly, tricking your mind into forgetting there is a wall less than thirty meters ahead of us."

    "I''m awed by the sight of a genuine Precursor civilization," Soren murmurs. "It''s so... clean. So majestic."

    "I''ve visited the Core worlds several times," Megla adds. "I always thought they were unbelievably advanced, but now they seem more like slums. Dirty, dingy, and ugly."

    Jos�� waves his hand. "Alright, close your eyes for a moment, and I''ll switch the scene. We''ll go into basic training, now."

    The Kraktol follow his instructions. Moments later, a massive battle arena appears, shaped like a Roman Colosseum, with sand spread across the ground and heat rippling through the air. Immediately, both women begin to grumble as the scorching desert sun beats upon their bodies.

    "Ugh... not to complain, but can''t we go somewhere less... arid?" Megla asks. "I can''t take the heat. It''s awful."

    Soren nods. "We Kraktol hate excessive heat, Admiral."

    "Aren''t you cold-blooded?" Jos�� asks. "I thought Repti- err, I thought Rodaks preferred heat to cold."

    "We do," Megla says, nodding. "But it''s more about the general dryness in the air. I''m going to start molting soon if I don''t get into some saltwater. My scales will lose their beautiful yellow color!"

    "Ah, then in that case, you don''t need to worry," the Admiral replies. "What separates a 50th Era holodeck from the earlier eras is that this one can trick the neuroreceptors in your brain. The temperature in here hasn''t changed; you just think it has. 50th Era holodecks can adjust your brain signals to make every sensation feel realistic, even with the safety systems enabled."

    "Safety systems?" Megla echoes. "How do those work?"

    "They prevent you from suffering any serious injuries," The Admiral answers. "However, simulated pain will still exist... and it will feel excruciating. Try not to get hurt during the training, for your sanity''s sake."

    "That''s quite impressive," Soren says, a look of admiration in her eyes. "The more you talk, the more interested I grow in how these holodecks function."

    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    "You can learn on the fly. Alright, I''ll start you two off with some light training. Umi, initiate a Class C training regimen. One opponent. Start with a team battle."

    The synthmind, Umi, responds promptly. "Orders acknowledged, Admiral. Summoning one Gamma-Level Gate Troll in standard attack mode."

    "Gate Troll? Class C? What does all of that mean?" Megla asks, as a pillar of light forms in the center of the arena. "I''ve never heard of- HOLY! What is THAT?! It''s huge!!"

    A gigantic, bipedal creature, eight meters tall, with a half-ton wooden club clutched between its fingers, stands idly in the center of the sandy arena. It dwarfs both Kraktol, making them feel like ants.

    "That''s a Gate Troll," Jos�� explains. "It''s a creature humanity hunted to extinction well before the 1st Era began. Back when we still fought the demons and Volgrim, we also had to face monsters from Hell. Gate Trolls were just one of many different types of huge, powerful monsters roaming Hell''s halls. As for the ''Class C'' designator, that merely denotes the difficulty of this training. Class C was considered average difficulty for Terran marines in my era, while Class A and S were extremely difficult. If you can''t beat a single Class C monster by working together, I''m going to be very disappointed. Marines in my era were supposed to pass this type of test alone just to register as ensigns."

    While the Admiral talks, the holographic Troll stands idly, its chest lightly moving as it takes shallow, nonchalant breaths. It doesn''t move to attack, apparently waiting for the Kraktol to begin.

    "We''re supposed to fight that?!" Megla asks, dumbfounded. "It''s so huge! I''ve never seen a bipedal creature of that size!"

    "Don''t act so surprised," Jos�� says, snickering to himself. "Terrans used to fight similar monsters without batting an eye, and that was well before our advancements in military weaponry. Speaking of which, equip yourselves as you see fit."

    The Admiral transmits another mental command to Umi, causing a weapons locker to pop into existence beside the women. A locker filled with various armor types appears as well, with both cabinets displaying holographic text above to denote their contents.

    Soren''s eyes flick across the various words. "Mark-1 Power Armor, Light Assault Jetsuit, Heavy Ordinance Package... goodness, this technology is... it''s unbelievable."

    Megla immediately darts forward and reaches for a gigantic gun, one that looks capable of blowing a hole in an Empire-Class Battleship. "Mine! I call dibs! ...Wait, what?"

    She grabs onto the gigantic cannon-looking weapon, only to find it stuck inside of the locker. "What the heck? Admiral! This thing won''t budge! How do I use it?"

    A truly evil smile crosses Jos��''s face. "Hehehe... did I forget to mention? Your equipment in combat training cannot exceed the training''s danger level. That particular gun, the ''Kenzon Antimaterial Rifle,'' is only suitable for S-class difficulty and above. You two will have to pick from Class C equipment and below."

    Slowly, casually, Jos�� gestures toward a far less impressive looking series of equipment on each locker''s left, mostly comprised of melee weaponry, light leather armor, and platemail.

    Megla''s expression crumples. "You... you jerk! Why would you dangle all this good stuff in front of me if we''re not even allowed to use it?!"

    "Because it''s funny," Jos�� says, his smirk deepening. "Now I know how Admiral Baruchen felt when he did the same thing to me. This is more fun than I expected."

    "You''re such an ass!" Megla says, but she smiles afterward, realizing the humor in his words. "Fine! I don''t need all that crap anyway! I''ll beat this Gate Troll without any of your fancy weapons."

    A minute later, Soren outfits herself with a crossbow and some simple leather protective clothing, while Megla dons a heavier metal-alloy armor, one much more technologically advanced than Soren''s. Megla wields a 1-meter long, titanium Halberd, useful for stabbing and slashing.

    "I''ll attack the monster and draw its attention!" Megla shouts. "You just try to hit as many of the bastard''s vitals as possible! Aim for its eyes!"

    Soren nods, her expression uncertain. "I''ll try!"

    Both women launch into a frenzied attack, with Megla darting around the Troll''s legs, stabbing and slashing at its skin to try and bring it to its knees, while Soren slowly fires arrows from a distance. However, her clawed hands have difficulty picking up and loading the slender projectiles, so her reloading speed proves to be below sub-par.

    Meanwhile, Jos�� doesn''t participate in the fight. He watches from a distance and casually munches on some potato chips. "You''re doing great! Keep up the good work!"

    "You fatty!" Megla shouts, after noticing Jos��''s snack. "I''ll get you for this!"

    The Admiral smiles, laughing internally as he watches both women struggle against the huge monster. The Troll swings its club around and tries to crush Megla into meat paste, but she dodges all of its attacks at the last second, using her well-tuned combat sense to evade its slow, clumsy movements.

    Jos�� chuckles. Heh. Megla has some skill. She can''t pierce the troll''s thick skin, nor can she outpace its exceptional regeneration with her meager offensive power, but I have to give her high marks for her combat sense. She''s a born warrior.

    The Admiral''s gaze travels to the other Kraktol. Soren''s combat capabilities are surprisingly poor. I thought she''d put her brainpower to better use, but she keeps getting flustered and dropping her bolts. Her aim is shoddy, too. Between these sisters, it''s clear who wins out on the battlefield.

    Several minutes pass.

    Soren unloads another five or so bolts into the Troll, but her nerves get the better of her and she accidentally squeezes the crossbow''s grip too hard, mangling it in her grasp. The weapon misfires and shoots a bolt angled at the ground, where it embeds uselessly in the sand.

    "Damn!" Soren curses. She tries to pull back the loading mechanism, only for one of the springs to break. The weapon becomes totally useless, making Soren have to resort to a backup plan. "I''m... I''m going to fight it at melee range too!"

    Soren runs forward, fear on her face. The giant monster looms over her like a blue whale next to a crab. She pounces at the Troll''s leg and digs her claws into its flesh, making the Troll finally notice her appearance.

    "Soren! You idiot!" Megla yells. "Get away! Stay back!"

    Too late, Megla tries to run over to save her sister, but she can''t close the distance in time. The Troll grabs Soren with its huge, free hand, and laughs gutturally. "Ug-thuul lanak!"

    It raises Soren over its head. She screams in fright, but can''t do anything to save herself. A moment later, the Troll flings Soren with all its strength against the floor.

    Boom!

    Soren bounces off the sand like a pinball and goes flying through the air, her body limp and lifeless. She comes to a stop a moment later after landing with her limbs bent into mangled positions.

    "Noooo!!"

    Megla loses her mind. She tries to run over to save her sister, but as Megla moves past the Troll, she fails to notice its massive club falling toward her from the sky.

    Crash!

    Megla gets flattened like a pancake. Both Kraktol end up ''dead'' under the monster''s ferocious attacks.

    Overhead, Umi speaks. "Class C Combat Simulation complete. Combat grade: D-. Both combatants have been disqualified. Ending simulation now."

    The desert arena disappears, along with the Troll, reverting the holodeck to its original steel-paneled appearance. Jos�� slowly walks over and smacks Soren''s face.

    "Hey. Wake up. Come on, you''re fine."

    "Nnngh..."

    Soren moans pitifully, acting as if every bone in her body has shattered from her meteoric impact. After a moment, she blinks her eyes in confusion.

    "...Huh? I''m alive?"

    "Of course," Jos�� scoffs. "I told you any pain you felt would only be simulated."

    He walks over and nudges Megla''s face with his foot. "You too. Stop moping around."

    Both Kraktol women shakily climb to their feet. Soren quickly understands what''s happened, but Megla is slower on the uptake.

    "Sister? You''re alive?! I... I saw you hit the ground! You must have broken every bone in your body!"

    "As I told you both before," Jos�� explains, "The Holodeck is more than capable of confusing your senses. This is essential for giving out the most accurate possible feelings of life-and-death situations. It also allows me to see your strengths and weaknesses."

    The Admiral turns to Soren. "Your performance was awful; much worse than I expected. I thought you''d use your superior intellect to outwit the Troll, but instead, you stood back and shot useless crossbow bolts at the beast while Megla did all the work. Considering Trolls are among the dumbest of all monsters, I would have expected you to perform far better than Megla in this specific simulation. You get a failing grade."

    Soren hangs her head in shame. "...I''m sorry, Admiral. I underestimated my opponent."

    "No, that wasn''t the problem," Jos�� replies. "Your biggest issue came from a complete lack of combat instinct. The moment you saw such a huge monster, you should have thought of possible methods for restraining it and bringing it down to your level. Why didn''t you bring any additional items into the simulation? What good was a flimsy little crossbow supposed to do, even if you hit both of its eyes?"

    The red-scaled Kraktol''s head sinks even lower. "I... I don''t know. I''ve never really engaged in physical combat with anyone but Megla and other Kraktol. I''m not especially good at confrontation, either. I just thought if I hit it from a distance I could injure it enough for Megla to get the killing blow."

    "Ah," Jos�� says, nodding sagely. "And there it is. You relied too heavily on your sister. You expected her to pick up your slack. On the battlefield, the difference from life and death is always a matter of teamwork! Communication! Preparation! You should have scouted out your opponent, sized it up, and come up with several potential combat techniques capable of taking it down. By only bringing one weapon, you limited your options and ensured that if just one thing went wrong, you''d have no fallbacks. We''ll work on this in future training sessions."

    Jos�� turns to Megla, only for his expression to morph into a deep scowl as he spots her smirking at Soren.

    "Wipe that smile off your face, Officer! You may have performed a little better than Soren, but in my book, you get a failing grade, too! You relied entirely on your instincts during that battle. Just like Soren, you brought only one weapon into the battle and nothing else! What''s your excuse? Did you think the Troll would be an easy opponent because it looked slow and stupid? Did you think that if you hacked at its legs enough, you''d somehow get the killing blow? If this were a life and death mission, your laziness would have killed your sister!"

    Megla''s expression flattens. She, too, lowers her head under Jos��''s barrage of harsh words. "I... I didn''t know it would have such a high health regeneration factor, Admiral. If it hadn''t healed from all of my cuts, or if its skin hadn''t been so thick-"

    "Excuses!" Jos�� barks, cutting her off. "I don''t want to hear them. Unlike Soren, it''s clear to me you''ve fought in life and death situations several times, yet you''re still a complete amateur! The freshest recruits from any Terran military force would beat you hand over foot ten out of ten times! What good is your strength and agility if you have marbles rolling around in that thick skull? Imbecile!"

    He continues. "How could someone like you, someone who has battled countless foes, make such a vapid assumption about your opponent? How could you fail to come up with a Plan B and C? How could you not say anything when you saw your sister, clearly out of her element, bringing a piddly little crossbow to face off against such a large creature? Surely you should have realized something was wrong? What, did you think that if she stayed back, she wouldn''t get hurt? You''re selfish! You were only thinking she would get in your way! A Terran marine would have used Soren''s capabilities to her fullest extent and used her superior brain to take that Troll down! What a shameful display!"

    The Admiral berates Megla harshly, using countless decades of experience as a Drill Instructor to verbally destroy the confidence of both women. As he yells, Megla''s expression becomes more and more twisted. Eventually, tears well up in her eyes.

    "I''m... I''m sorry! I didn''t know! Guk..."

    Megla tries to stifle her emotions, but it only makes her look more miserable.

    Eventually, Jos�� slows his harsh tongue.

    "Hmph. It seems like you understand. Do you think I''m being mean? Cruel? I''ll verbally lash you for ten years if that''s what it takes. Better to knock that idiocy out of your head now if it means saving your life someday."

    Jos�� continues to look at Megla, but his eyes lose focus.

    "I''ve lost too many friends... too many comrades because they thought themselves invincible; because they cut corners and didn''t follow protocol. It''s all too easy to end up meat in the grinder when your arrogance blinds you to your flaws. Take a one hour break. We''ll repeat the training... and this time, I want you to show me that you''ve listened and learned."

    After glancing at Soren''s stony face, Jos�� turns and walks away. He strides outside the holodeck with purpose, his expression not revealing even a hint of sympathy or emotion. As he leaves and the door closes behind him, his enhanced hearing picks up the anguished wails of Megla as she breaks down. She begs Soren for forgiveness, apologizes several times, and promises not to let her ''die'' ever again.

    The Terran stands at attention outside the Holodeck, his eyes staring vacantly at the wall ahead of him.

    Despite the sobbing sounds coming from within the Holodeck, Jos��''s emotions don''t waver even a micron. His thoughts spin backward to a time long-past, a different era, when he failed a comrade. Their death weighs heavily on his conscience, making him chuckle wryly.

    "...It''s better this way. They have to understand the gravity of combat. They have to understand just how poorly they fared. A few tears now will save them eternal heartache in the future."

    Umi beeps from overhead. "Admiral?"

    "It''s nothing, Umi. An old memory. I can''t turn back time... I can only remember all the moments I''ve failed and hope history never repeats itself."

    "To err is human," Umi says, "and to forgive; divine. Some scholars have stated that the origin of this phrase denotes forgiveness of others. However, in an instance like this, I believe it can also mean to forgive yourself, Admiral."

    "I never took you for a poet," Jos�� says, glancing at the ceiling with an odd look in his eyes.

    "Admiral, I must remind you that you have successfully repaired 75% of my prior functionality. I have re-established my basic counseling subroutines."

    "Oh. That''s good to hear."

    Jos�� shrugs and returns to his prior thoughts.

    "Umi, let me know when the Kraktol have regained their emotional balance. I''m going to get more potato chips from the mess hall."

    "Admiral. Are you certain there is nothing on your mind you wish to discuss? As an unbiased observer, I believe I may be capable of assisting you in sorting out your thoughts."

    "No," Jos�� says, his tone firm.

    "Nothing at all."

    The Terran trudges toward the mess hall.

    His expression darkens.

 Chapter 20: Jos茅, the True Troll

    Jos�� Rodriguez stands inside a holographic observation booth, keeping himself hidden from Megla and Soren. The Holodeck envelops him with presence-shielding illusions, making him disappear from both women''s line of sight. Not that it matters. The two Kraktol keep their focus on battling the Gate Troll for the sixth time in a row. With their attention firmly locked onto the massive creature, they wouldn''t have time to glance at the Admiral even if they could see him.

    Hm, between the two sisters, Soren has seen the largest improvement in overall combat effectiveness, Jos�� thinks, while jotting down some notes on a datapad clutched in his hand. However, neither of their performances are yet up to basic Terran standards.

    Unlike the first time they fought, the sisters work more closely in tandem with one another. Megla wields a halberd like before, but also a wide array of throwing knives, which sit strapped to her hip. In between slashing at the Gate Troll''s legs and stabbing at its groin, Megla waits for openings between its attacks to throw the kunai at its head, hoping to score a critical hit.

    Meanwhile, Soren plays the role of distraction. During her first battle, she left the damage dealing and aggro to her sister, but now, she does everything she can to draw the Gate Troll''s attention so Megla can attack freely. Soren throws small, exploding poison-pellets at the monster''s face, shouts obscenities to piss it off, and holds a javelin with a net attached below its tip to poke at the monster when it stops treating her like a threat.

    After more than ten minutes of continually harassing the Gate Troll, the monster becomes angrier than ever. It roars at Megla and decides to deal with her for good, ignoring Soren''s taunts.

    Megla jumps back and smiles. "Now, Soren!"

    Soren lifts her javelin with one hand, pulls out a small, primitive-looking lighter, and holds it up to the net attached to the javelin''s end. She ignites the oil-soaked net with a quick movement and turns the whole thing into a several-hundred-degree inferno held at arm''s length. While the Troll continues trying to swat Megla with its giant wooden club, Soren rears her arm back and hurls the javelin at the back of the monster''s neck.

    Skrik!

    Soren''s attack hits its intended target and embeds itself just below the Troll''s skull. Immediately, the monster howls in agony as the melting net begins to stick to its back and burn it with a fiery embrace. The lumbering giant drops its club and grabs at its burning skin, but it can''t seem to figure out what''s causing the net to stick its body.

    With the monster in a state of panic, Soren grabs a halberd of her own and joins her sister. Both of them begin brutally stabbing and slashing the Troll''s legs. They target the back of its knees, and eventually succeed in making the Troll collapse forward onto its arms.

    "Aaargh!" The monster shrieks.

    "Don''t worry!" Megla yells. "I''ll end your pain right here and now!"

    Soren rushes forward. With the Troll leaning on its knees, she swings her halberd down like a woodcutter''s axe, aiming for the back of the Troll''s neck.

    Slice!

    The red-scaled Kraktol only manages to embed her weapon a few inches into her opponent''s skin, but that proves to be all she needs. She yanks her halberd out just in time for Megla to attack from the Troll''s other side, targeting the same spot.

    Slash!

    Megla''s superior strength and excellent accuracy allows her to slice neatly into the exposed groove, severing the Troll''s spinal cord from its brain. The monster''s howling stops abruptly as it loses control of its body. It slumps forward, unable to lift itself up.

    A minute later, both women stab its head a hundred times, turning the monster into a shish-kebab. It falls into an eternal sleep, and Umi''s voice speaks from above.

    "Training simulation complete. Officers Soren and Megla have succeeded in completing the Class C combat drill. Their overall combat grade stands at Rank C."

    The holographic arena disappears, and both Kraktol shakily drop to their legs. The sisters embrace one another and cheer excitedly.

    "We did it!" Megla laughs. "Kyargh! Finally! We got a clean kill on that Troll, and without suffering any injuries!"

    Even Soren appears to be in high spirits. "It was all thanks to you, sister! Your aim was perfect!"

    "No, no," Megla laughs. "The burning net was brilliant! I didn''t realize the Troll was weak to fire. That was a great way to take the bastard down!"

    Both girls congratulate each other and eventually raise their eyes to see Jos�� walking over. The Admiral slowly claps, as a faint smile plays upon his face.

    "Well done, you two. It took you three days, but you finally completed the Class C combat training. You even got a C-Grade from Umi. Not bad at all."

    Megla nods her eyes eagerly. "Did we pass, then? Are we ready for the next round of training?"

    The Admiral smiles coquettishly. His expression turns to one of pity as he shakes his head. "Haha. No, Megla. I''m afraid not."

    The yellow-scaled Kraktol''s smile slowly evaporates, while her expression morphs into one of disbelief. "W-what? But... but we killed the Gate Troll! We didn''t get hurt once, and Umi even gave us a passing grade!"

    Jos�� looks at Soren. "Officer Mudrose. What reason would I have to deny your advancement?"

    "Well, Admiral," Soren says, lowering her head with a sigh, "we killed the Gate Troll... but we did it in team combat. You said before this was traditionally a solo training regimen. Therefore... it seems that in order to pass, we''ll have to kill the Troll by ourselves without any help."

    At hearing her sister''s words, Megla''s face contorts into a hilarious mixture of shock and begging-for-mercy. "No! That''s not possible! If I didn''t have Soren there, I''d never have been able to kill such a gigantic monster! How in the heck is a tiny little Futh like me supposed to take on a monster five times my size alone?! This is too cruel, Admiral!"

    "Whining and excuses are unbecoming of an officer aboard my ship," Jos�� says, his expression stern. "Like I said before, countless fresh recruits from any Terran academy would have to pass this training alone. None of them were as strong or fast as either of you. After all, Terran soldiers weren''t allowed to use any combat augmentations until they exited basic training."

    Megla jumps to her feet. She holds her trembling fists at her side, a look of anger in her eyes. "Kyargh! That''s ridiculous! How am I supposed to believe that?! Soren and I fought that monster with everything we had, and we only barely managed to eke out a win! What kind of monsters were Terrans to pull off a solo kill unaided?"

    Jos�� doesn''t take any offense to Megla''s harsh, shrill tone. Instead, he gently pats her shoulder. "Both of you, come with me. I have something to show you."

    Confused, the Kraktol women follow their Admiral, confused by his mysterious words. They arrive at the weapon and armor lockers from before, each one filled to the brim with countless useful gadgets and items.

    "Take a look," Jos�� says, as he stands to the side of the lockers and gestures toward them with a broad sweep of his hand. "Tell me about the different items inside these cabinets. What are their functions? What are their strengths? Their weaknesses? How do they work? How effective are they in different combat situations?"

    Megla blinks. "I... I''m not sure what you mean, Admiral. Um. To be honest, I don''t recognize half of these objects."

    Soren nods, a serious expression on her face. "Neither do I, Admiral. Many of them are foreign to me. I can guess at a few of their functions thanks to their names, but at least half of these weapons are a total mystery."

    "I knew you would say that," Jos�� replies. "And to be honest, your ignorance is fine, perhaps even expected. Most Terran marines spent years, sometimes multiple decades, learning countless combat techniques, informing ourselves on how our different weapons worked, prepping ourselves for guerrilla and conventional warfare, and otherwise learning as much as we could about the art of war. By the time I was forty years of age, I was a hundred times more effective than both of you in practical combat. Most surprisingly, I was not even a remarkable soldier. I was only a little above average."

    "By age forty...?" Megla asks, astonished. "But... but I''m four hundred years old. Did Terrans measure their years differently from the Kraktol?"

    "I doubt we did," Jos�� says, shrugging. "Your planet likely has an orbital cycle between 200 and 500 days. Assuming you don''t use some standard galactic measurement for years, you''re still probably anywhere from three to five times the age I was when I graduated as a cadet."

    Soren appears dumbfounded. "How could you be so incredible at combat while still so young?"

    "Warfare was in our blood," Jos�� says, his expression solemn. "From the moment our species came into existence, enemies beset upon us from every direction. The angels manipulated us to their own ends. The demons feasted upon our flesh. The Titans treated us as pawns in their many wars. Even the creatures of Earth, our home planet, wished to do nothing more than to consume our flesh and drink our blood. With the odds stacked against us, we had no choice but to rise to the occasion, or perish."

    The Admiral begins to slowly pace back and forth between the lockers. "The Kraktol have lived similarly. You too were slaves once, treated as cattle by your superiors. As such, you learned to improvise, to adapt, and to overcome your weaknesses. Now, you are among the most powerful of the sentients in the galaxy."

    With a pause, Jos�� glances at Megla. "But only physically speaking."

    He continues pacing. "You don''t have countless numbers of enemies at your doorstep like my people, the Terrans, did. You don''t have the same need to evolve and overcome your biological limitations. At most, you have a faint, formless mental pressure resting upon your heads as a result of the Mallali''s distant threat. Your Th��lvik is, no doubt, a mighty Kraktol warrior, but the mere fact she has placed so much focus on eliminating the Kessu, her now harmless former enemies, means she is still not comparable to a Terran. It''s not your fault. It''s no-one''s fault."

    The Terran gestures toward the lockers, intending to finish his speech. "If you wish to conquer these combat simulations that even the most ordinary Terrans would routinely overcome without complaint, you must set aside any notion of Kraktol superiority. Megla, your body may be twenty times stronger than an unenhanced Terran''s, but your wisdom and your strategic thinking ability are leagues lower. And Soren, you may be a highly intelligent Kraktol, perhaps even a natural genius, but your knowledge base is too shallow to ever compete with my former peers. Both of you will only be able to defeat the Gate Troll in solo combat by familiarizing yourselves with every item inside these lockers, and by learning advanced military tactics."

    With his speech concluded, Jos�� reaches toward the weapon locker and pulls out a blackened metal gun.

    "What''s that?" Megla asks.

    "This is a conventional weapon made before the First Era, one known as a ''Carbine,''" Jos�� explains. "By packing explosive energy within small, metal shells, the weapon is able to propel projectiles forward at extreme speeds, allowing it to inflict heavy ranged damage on its user''s enemies. Observe."

    Jos�� summons the Gate Troll again, and has it stand idly. Using his simulated semi-automatic rifle, he repeatedly pulls the trigger, causing one bullet at a time to strike the monster. Bloody holes appear on the monster''s skin, but after a few seconds, they seal up.

    Megla frowns. "That weapon appears somewhat more capable than a crossbow... certainly, the rate of fire is superior, and the damage is higher, but it still doesn''t deal much damage to the Troll."

    "That''s because I''m using standard ammunition," Jos�� says with a smile. He reaches into the weapon locker and pulls out a red-colored ammunition magazine, then slides it into the weapon''s chamber.

    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    A few moments later, Jos�� pulls the trigger again. This time, when the bullets impact, they explode and spray white phosphorous everywhere, scorching the monster''s skin and causing it to scream in agony.

    Even when nearly a minute passes, the Troll''s wounds don''t close.

    Megla''s jaw drops. "Good god! Is that weapon usable inside the Class C training?!"

    "It''s rated at C+," Jos�� says, "but that''s still technically within acceptable mission parameters. By now, you should have a slight understanding of what you''ve overlooked. Teamwork is essential, as is preparedness. However, preparing for a mission amounts to more than merely sizing up your opponent''s strengths and weaknesses. You have to also know what your arsenal consists of. As a famous Terran once said, if you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle."

    Soren rubs the underside of her jaw. "I feel as if my horizons have expanded infinitely, Admiral. It''s... it''s no wonder the Precursors were capable of creating such powerful weapons of war. Your viewpoints on combat were comprehensive, to say the least."

    "Not just war," Jos�� replies, "but technology in general. However, that''s a whole different can of worms."

    The Admiral turns to look at the lockers again. "Why don''t we try examining all of this equipment, one by one, to learn how they function? I think such an exercise will broaden your horizons and make you far more capable than before."

    Megla frowns. "Admiral. Before that, I have a request."

    The Terran stands up a little straighter. "Oh? Go ahead."

    "I know this is a bit presumptuous of me, but... would you be willing to battle the Troll yourself? Just... just to show us how it''s done?"

    Soren''s eyes light up at her sister''s request. "Yes, Admiral. I would love to see how a Terran handles this sort of simulation. However, I know it''s only been a month since your surgery, so if you''re not feeling up to it..."

    "You two..." Jos�� mumbles. "...are you challenging me? Do you think that, with my weakened body, I''ll have a hard time tackling the same simulation?"

    Megla shakes her head. "No, not at all. I''m just curious to see what methods you''ll employ."

    "Ah," Jos�� smiles. "So you want to copy my tactics?"

    "No," Comes the reply. "I''m only curious, Admiral."

    After a few seconds, the Admiral shrugs. "Well, alright then. If you want to see, I''ll show you. But, I must warn you... once I take on this training, I''ll have to increase the difficulty of your future simulations to C+. Are you sure you want me to continue?"

    Both Kraktol look at each other uneasily for a moment, then back to Jos��. They nod. "Yes."

    The Admiral heaves a long, hesitant sigh. "Alright. You asked for it."

    ...

    Five minutes later, after drinking half a gallon of water to hydrate himself, Jos�� casually starts rifling through the weapon locker. He reaches for one of the many level C+ guns inside, making Megla''s face scrunch up with concentration. "Admiral. Are you going to use that weapon against the Troll?"

    "Hah! Not a chance," Jos�� snorts, a hint of arrogance in his voice. "It would be my instructor''s greatest humiliation if I, a veteran of countless wars, used Rank C+ weaponry for a Rank C simulation. I''m just trying to figure out what I can use that will give myself the biggest challenge while also still allowing me to kill the Troll quickly."

    Megla falls silent, allowing Soren to fill in the gap. "Does that mean that even you will need special preparations to defeat such a large monster?"

    "Sort of," The Admiral admits. "Trolls aren''t like other Giant-Type creatures. It''s really their regeneration that I have to worry about. By limiting myself to lower grade weapons, my weakened body won''t be able to deal a lot of damage- ah! Here we go. This will do just fine."

    The Admiral interrupts himself mid-sentence to reach for a 15-meter-long iron chain. He wraps the spool of metal links around his body a few times, then holds out the end and mutters under his breath, "Hrm, this solves the reach issue, but what about the... mumble mumble..."

    Soren and Megla look at each other in confusion, but they can''t make out his words.

    A minute later, Jos�� picks up a knife with a blade curved in a 90-degree angle. The weapon resembles a small, hooked scythe, with serrated ''teeth'' on its inner blade and a sturdy connecting piece at the bottom of its handle. Jos�� clamps the knife''s bottom to one end of the chain and holds it up proudly. "A good compromise. An E-ranked chain connected to an E+ ranked combat knife. This will be my primary weapon."

    Both Kraktol look at the Admiral with twisted expressions of disbelief.

    "That''s your weapon?" Megla asks, unable to process Jos��''s logic. "That won''t be able to hurt the Troll at all! I mean, you could probably gouge out its eyes, but... beyond that..."

    Jos�� chuckles. "Haha, you''re right, this isn''t so much a weapon as a... well, you''ll see. I need one more thing to actually inflict some damage."

    It takes another five minutes for Jos�� to trace his fingers along the other contents of the weapon cabinet. He frowns deeply.

    "...gotta be something with explosive properties. Biochemical warfare will work the best in a situation like this. Perhaps an HE Grenade? No, that''s D+. Too easy. Only rookies would be shameful enough to use something like that. Ah, here, these should work."

    This time, the objects Jos�� grabs are so seemingly random that not even Soren can understand his basic logic. The Admiral snatches up a half-dozen chemical bottles and containers, all of them with extremely confusing names that give no hint as to their combat properties, and all of which the simulator rates as somewhere between E and D rank. Then, Jos�� chooses an odd-looking B-ranked metallic cylinder and glances at the girls.

    "...Don''t look at me like that. I''m not cheating. I only need this to mix the ingredients. Anything less durable than a Nanosteel Compound will break apart during the mixing process. I''ll use an E-ranked deployment package for the final product."

    Soren and Megla shake their heads, completely unable to understand what the heck the Admiral is saying. They don''t even bother asking him to explain, and instead plop down on their butts to watch as he begins throwing a whole bunch of volatile chemicals inside the sturdy metal canister.

    A horrible, ear-piercing hissing noise erupts from inside the container. Both women shrink back and cover their ears as the sounds of a thousand dying banshees screech from the canister''s lip for several seconds, growing louder and louder as the chemicals rapidly bond together.

    Jos�� frowns. "Damn, I forgot the stabilizing agent. Ah, this should do."

    He grabs some common household salt from behind himself, dumps it into the container, and a moment later, the screeching banshee noises fade away. Jos�� sloshes around some sort of liquid inside the canister and nods. "Perfect."

    A pungent, foul odor erupts from the newly created chemical compound, making both women''s faces shrivel up in disgust. Megla gags. "Augh, that''s awful! Smells like a five-week-old rotting corpse! What is that?"

    "This is a highly potent bio-dissolving agent," Jos�� explains. "It''s called Hydroglutaminsilicateoxy..."

    The Admiral continues with an extremely long word for several seconds, making Megla''s eyes blank out.

    "...ferroglycerite acid," Jos�� finishes. "It''s a bit complicated, but I''m trying to handicap myself. Creating a more advanced weapon from basic materials was always the most interesting way to pass these virtual simulations. Plus, even if you wanted to, it''s unlikely either of you could duplicate my method. Now, if you''ll excuse me..."

    He turns to the weapon''s locker and pulls out an empty, metallic, bullet-shaped canister, one ranked at E+, and unscrews the bottom. After pouring the awful-smelling acid inside, he reseals the 1-liter canister and sticks it inside his jacket pocket.

    "There. That should be a big enough challenge. I''ll only have one shot, so if I miss, it''ll be my loss."

    Clearly satisfied with whatever he''s done, the Admiral begins walking toward the Troll. "Umi, respawn the Troll and increase its physical parameters by 50%. Also, disable all of my combat augments so I don''t activate them by accident. I wouldn''t want to make this too easy. After that, begin the simulation at your leisure."

    "Orders received, Admiral. Restarting combat simulation in five seconds. Four... three..."

    With a flash of light, a Gate Troll even bigger, meaner, and far more vicious than the previous one appears inside the simulator. The monster''s skin appears as a dark gray, almost black color, giving it the appearance of wearing obsidian armor. Instead of a half-ton wooden club, it wields a two-ton steel mace capable of pulverizing concrete into powder.

    "Huruk!! Gh��l-thon delkraak!" The Troll howls, its language incomprehensible to the Kraktol.

    "Yeah, yeah," Jos�� mutters, unimpressed. "I''m giving myself three minutes to kill you. Let''s make this quick."

    The Admiral runs toward the Gate Troll. He uncoils a few meters of the chain wrapping around his body and begins spinning the end with the knife around in his hand. The Troll tries repeatedly to smash him into blood-pulp, but even with its speed artificially enhanced, Jos�� easily evades the giant monster''s attacks. His boots clomp against the sand, leaving imprints wherever he runs.

    Half a minute passes. Admiral Rodriguez stays in front of the Troll, bobbing and weaving to avoid its slow, predictable attacks. Suddenly, when the monster once again rears back to attack, Jos�� darts forward and runs between its legs. The Troll hits the spot where Jos�� was just standing, but it moves far too slowly to harm a hair on the Admiral''s body. Jos�� throws out his chain knife with deadly precision and wraps it around the Troll''s neck, causing the serrated blade to bite into the Troll''s skin and hold firm. Much like riding a bucking bronco, the Admiral leaps onto the monster''s back and plants his feet against the Troll''s spine, holding onto the chain for dear life.

    What follows are several seconds of tense, nail-biting action as the monster drops its club and awkwardly tries to reach behind itself to grab the pest riding it like a stallion. Megla and Soren''s hearts pound frantically as they wonder how in the hell the Admiral will survive the Troll''s rampage.

    At one point, the Troll''s right arm comes closer than ever to the Admiral. Jos�� narrowly dodges the creature''s blind grab, throws out the chain, and wraps it around the monster''s wrist. Without waiting a second longer, he drops to the ground and wraps the chain around the Troll''s left ankle as well.

    Suddenly, the Troll loses its balance. With its right arm snagged in a chain attached to its neck and left foot, it trips awkwardly and falls forward, landing flat on its face. At that moment, Soren gets a flash of inspiration.

    "Ah! The Admiral, he''s going to force the Troll to swallow that acid container! Then it will dissolve inside the Troll''s mouth!"

    "Oh, that''s brilliant!" Megla replies, her eyes as wide as saucers. "I''d never have thought of- wait, what is he doing?"

    In shock, the women wait for the Admiral to climb on the Troll and run toward its head, but he doesn''t. Instead, Jos�� pulls out the bullet shaped container from his jacket''s pocket. The Troll continues to thrash around as it tries to free its arm, making the chain''s links weaken. With only seconds remaining before it breaks free, the Admiral runs between the Troll''s legs, rears his arm back, and takes aim with the container.

    "Oh, ancient Rodaks, NOOO!" Megla shrieks.

    Too late, she can''t stop what comes next. Jos�� plunges the container arm-deep inside the monster''s anus, making the Troll howl in pain. Jos�� releases his grip and yanks his arm out, then retreats more than a hundred feet away, a look of glee on his face. "Hahaha! I haven''t lost my touch!"

    Both Kraktol women lose some coloration in their scales as they witness the disgusting act performed by the man they admire most. They stifle their gag reflexes and look at each other in horror. "D-did he just...?!"

    Not long after, the Troll begins to shriek with the most bloodcurling roar of all time. Its volume increases by an order of magnitude as it breaks free of the chain binding it, but it doesn''t pursue the Admiral. The Troll rolls on the ground and clutches its stomach while shrieking and howling incomprehensibly. All at once, a sizzling sound erupts in the air as the acid-filled container explodes inside the creature and begins melting it from the inside out. The Troll loses its voice. It opens its mouth to cry in pain, but only blood and vomit erupt from its throat.

    A minute later, the Troll stops moving. Its body rapidly melts into a pile of horrific, gooey mush, spreading an ungodly stench in every direction.

    Umi beeps overhead. "Training simulation complete. Admiral Rodriguez has succeeded in completing the Class C combat drill. His overall combat grade stands at Rank S+."

    With the monster''s horrific smell spreading across the holographic arena, both Kraktol begin retching from the unbelievable stench of death and decay.

    "Hurk!! Oh god, BLAAARGH!"

    Megla vomits uncontrollably for several seconds. Soren doesn''t fare any better. Eventually, Jos�� disables the simulation, revealing two puddles of puke covering the floor.

    It takes several minutes more before the Kraktol are able to stop their desperate vomiting. By the time they finish, their scales have turned an ashen gray.

    Megla turns to Jos�� with tears in her eyes. "Gurk... A-Admiral... that was.... guh!"

    Soren echoes her sister. "I can''t believe you''d... shove an acid-pill up that Troll''s... blurgh..."

    The Terran grins like an idiot. "Pretty hilarious, right? My former bunkmate, Private Azaram, he came up with that idea during our days as drill instructors. We wanted to really shock the new recruits, so he thought up the most dangerous and vile method possible. Looks like it still has its charm!"

    Both Kraktol take a few moments to steady their aching stomachs. Soren is the first to speak. "Ugh! Admiral, you''re horrible! Why didn''t you warn us? Now I''ll never get that image out of my head!"

    "You''re the worst," Megla adds. "What a horrible way to die! You defiled that poor monster and gave it an honorless death! How humiliating!"

    "Aww, are you feeling sympathetic for the holographic monster?" Jos�� asks, a distinctly snarky edge to his voice. "You poor thing. I''ll have to make sure the next simulation is three times harder to compensate. More importantly, how confident are you that you could replicate my success? Wanna try beating the Troll with that method?"

    "No WAY!" Megla shrieks. "That was simply too dreadful! If all Terrans were like you, then your whole species was way scarier than that poor Troll!"

    "Eh, terror is subjective," Jos�� says, smiling. He pats Megla''s shoulder and gives her a thumbs up. "I think you two should take the rest of the day off. We''ll be arriving at Tarus II within the hour anyway, so we''ll call this simulation quits for now. The next time we enter Inverted Space, we''ll do some more training."

    Megla wipes the residual vomit from the sides of her mouth. "Guh... fine. I need a break anyway after... after that. You''re really something, Admiral."

    "Thanks. I take pride in my work."

    Jos�� turns to walk toward the door, but pauses for half a beat. "Good thing that was a freshly simulated Gate Troll and not the real thing. Shoving my hand up a genuine Troll''s ass would have left me with all sorts of shit stuck to my arm. That would be truly nasty!"

    Megla shrieks angrily. "Argh! Go away! I''m gonna barf again!"

    "Haha! I''ll see you two on the Bridge," Jos�� laughs.

    The door closes, and Admiral Rodriguez disappears, leaving Megla and Soren alone.

    After he leaves, Megla slowly stands up a little straighter and stares into the distance with a vacant look in her eyes.

    "Truly horrible... despicable..." Megla mutters. She glances at Soren. "But you have to admit, that was pretty impressive."

    Soren nods. She plops onto the steel-plated Holodeck floor and sighs. "Yes, it was. Even though we''re both stronger and faster than the Admiral right now, I don''t have the confidence to pull off something like that. Terrans are scary."

    "Were scary," Megla says, correcting Soren. "They''re all dead now. Just imagine living in a galaxy filled with the bloody bastards. The Admiral says he was only slightly above average compared to other Terrans, too."

    "Kind of makes you wonder what a truly powerful Terran would be like," Soren mutters. "I hope the Admiral is just being modest."

    "Yeah. Me too."

    Both girls fall silent.

    After a moment, Soren looks at Megla, then at the vomit-covered floor.

    "...Shower?"

    Megla nods.

    "Shower."

 Chapter 21: Order to Chaos (Arc 3: Hostile Cavern)

    Aboard the UTC Bloodbearer, inside the main Bridge.

    Jos�� Rodriguez, the last Terran, a Precursor from 100,000,000 years in the past, stands silently with his hands behind his back. He gazes through the armored windows on the Bridge at the motionless stars outside. All around him, more than a hundred holographic crew created by the ship''s synthmind, Umi, sit in various control seats, plugging away at the different ship systems.

    The Admiral wears a navy blue uniform, mixed with the blood-red and gold of the United Terran Coalition''s flag colors. His nine-foot (almost three meters) stature makes him appear like a giant compared to not only the holographic crew around him, but more than three dozen Kessu standing idly within the thirty-feet of space nearest him. Each of the cat-like aliens barely reaches Admiral Rodriguez''s knees, and those that do only manage the feat thanks to their cute little pointy ears.

    The panda-colored Kessu closest to Jos��, Elder Nyoor, stares ahead with a grave look on his face. "Great Precursor, how much longer until we arrive?"

    The Terran smiles at the aged kitty-cat leaning on a cane. "Not long now, Nyoor. Two or three minutes."

    "Mmm. I''m excited, but also terribly anxious," Elder Nyoor mutters, a downcast look in his eyes. The old cat sighs heavily, his frail and thin frame making him appear pitiful. "If Ruuki has perished, along with the rest of my village... this old one may faint from the heartache. I cannot bear the thought of burying my child before I die. It''s not something any parent should ever have to do."

    Jos�� nods. "You must believe in your child, Nyoor."

    "Yes," Says Baaru, Nyoor''s wife, a Kessu with beautiful red, fox-like fur. "The Little Machine God could not pierce the mountain with its all-seeing-eye when we rescued the other Kessu, but perhaps the Admiral''s personal Machine God can. We must have faith!"

    Despite having grown somewhat used to their days aboard the Bloodbearer and the Slipstream, none of the Kessu can quite break away from calling the different synthminds and ships ''machine gods.'' However, in lieu of Umi and the Bloodbearer being far larger and more incredible than the Slipstream, they cannot help but refer to the 14th-Era stealth craft as the ''Little'' Machine God.

    "A 14th Era scanner, even on an advanced experimental craft like the Slipstream, can''t penetrate more than half a kilometer into the planetary crust," Jos�� clarifies. "However, any average 50th Era ship, let alone one at the pinnacle of the 50th Era, would easily pierce more than 50 to 100 kilometers of dense planetary crust. This is thanks to advanced electromagnetic spectral imaging techniqu-... never mind. Just rest assured that it will be a simple matter."

    With a light chuckle, Jos�� stops short of going into an advanced technical explanation of how the Bloodbearer''s planetary scanners function. Given the adult Kessu''s ignorance regarding technology, most of them couldn''t understand it even if he spent 100 hours.

    ...Except for the white-haired female kitten sitting in the captain''s chair behind Jos��. Little Lele rolls her eyes but doesn''t say anything, clearly annoyed that the other Kessu aren''t capable of comprehending even the most basic elements of technology.

    "Admiral Rodriguez," Umi chimes from above. "We will exit Inverted Space in one minute, thirty seconds."

    "Thanks for the heads-up, Umi. All crew, ready yourselves for combat. There is a small possibility we may encounter Kraktol vessels above Tarus II''s surface, so be on your guard and initiate subspace sweeps upon our arrival."

    "Yes, Admiral," Says Penelope, a brown-haired ''female'' holo-crewmember. "Admiral, I would like to mention that as of three days ago, we have successfully restored forty percent of the Bloodbearer''s teleportation capacity."

    Jos�� turns to look at the holo-entity. Penelope sits in the First Officer''s position, managing much of the ship''s needs when the Admiral isn''t around. Her vaguely-defined face leaves barely any impression on most people, but for Jos��, she and the other holo-crew are the only reminders of what other Terrans look like, aside from his reflection in the mirror. As for Penelope specifically, Jos�� can''t get the image of the woman he loved out of his mind when he looks at her...

    "Forty percent. What are our logistical limitations?"

    Penelope blinks, her eye motions coordinated by an advanced simulation matrix capable of mimicking human facial tics. Even this simple movement still looks somewhat fake to the Admiral.

    "Well, as of now, we can transport approximately ten individuals per activation. Our cooldown and recalibration time will require seventeen minutes after each round of teleportation, and if we factor in the Kessu population size of roughly 100,000 individuals-"

    "I changed my mind a few days ago. We won''t use the ship''s transporters to bring the Kessu aboard," Jos�� interrupts. "The Kessu are already ignorant of technology. If ten of them start disappearing into thin air from their villages at a time, they''re liable to suffer fear-induced heart-attacks. We''ll use the Slipstream to bring them aboard, like before."

    Penelope lowers her eyes to the computer control panel mounted beside her. "Yes, Admiral. I will make the adjustments at once."

    Several seconds later, the Bridge door opens, and Soren walks in, followed by her sister, Megla. The reptilian Kraktol walk carefully to not bump into the holo-crew, as well as to avoid squishing the tiny Kessu at their feet.

    "Sorry we''re late," Megla says while yawning loudly. "It took me longer to wash up than I expected."

    Soren glances at her sister wordlessly before continuing in Jos��''s direction. "My sincerest apologies, Admiral. What did we miss?"

    "Not much," Jos�� answers. "Penelope just informed me that the transporters have come back online, so that''s good news. We''ll arrive over Tarus II in about a minute, so you actually picked the perfect time to show up."

    Soren cocks her head. "What''s this about a ''transporter''? I''m not familiar with that word."

    "Me neither," Megla chimes in. "What is that?"

    Jos�� momentarily blanks out. "Huh? You... you''ve never heard of a transporter; a teleportation device?"

    Both Kraktol stop at the edges of the three dozen Kessu surrounding Jos�� and shake their heads wordlessly.

    The Admiral frowns. "How is that possible? Humanity invented rudimentary transporters back before the 1st Era of interstellar colonization. Let alone a 50th Era vessel, even 5th and 10th Era spaceships should have sufficiently advanced long-range teleportation capabilities to transport to and from a planet''s surface. Don''t tell me this is a rare blind spot on your otherwise high knowledge-base, Soren?"

    The red-scaled Kraktol slowly shakes her head. "Uh... I''m at a loss for words, Admiral. I''ve never heard of ''teleporters.'' Based on your description, it sounds as if they... move things around? Like shuttles?"

    Several seconds pass. Jos��''s entire face becomes warped with disbelief as he wrestles with the concept of a space-faring species that has never heard of as basic a concept as teleportation.

    "...Umi. Check the records taken from the Kraktol fleet. Are there any mentions of transporters in their recovered data-files?"

    "Negative, Admiral," comes Umi''s immediate reply. "I am unable to find any mention of the term. Admiral, I must inform you that we will exit Inverted Space in fifteen seconds."

    Nodding slowly, Jos��''s thoughts churn like a raging volcano.

    What in the Divine Emperor''s name? The degradation of technology over time is already unfortunate, but how is it possible that the Kraktol have become entirely unaware of the existence of teleportation? Are they merely less advanced than the rest of the galaxy? Might the Mallali possess it in secret? I don''t understand!

    His mystified expression causes both of the Kraktol sisters to look at one another. They shrug in unison, neither one understanding the Admiral''s out-of-character reaction.

    "Have you ever seen the Admiral this flustered?" Megla whispers.

    "Never," Soren replies, her voice equally low. "Whatever a ''transporter'' is, it must have been common before the Terrans fell."

    Jos�� shakes his head in disbelief, then looks at Soren. "I''ll explain it later. For now, let''s focus on rescuing the Kessu."

    "Ah! Yes, Admiral," Soren nods respectfully.

    Several seconds later, the ship shudders slightly.

    The stars instantly change their positions, jumping into seemingly random spots from their previous spots. All of a sudden, a giant ball of green, brown, and blue appears before the Bloodbearer, seemingly popping into existence out of nowhere.

    The Kessu jump slightly, their hearts skipping a beat at Tarus II''s abrupt appearance. They settle down within seconds, swallowing their adrenaline to look at Jos�� with hope-filled eyes.

    "Initiating long-range scans," Umi intones emotionlessly. "Zero Kraktol vessels discovered on or around the planet of Tarus II. I cannot detect any ion trails newer than one month. Additionally, my scans of the planet indicate a rich ecosystem only lightly scarred by interstellar warfare. As Commander Orgon''s orders indicated, none of the Kraktol stayed in orbit around Tarus II. All of them chased after the Slipstream."

    Several sighs of relief go up from the Kessu. They breathe much easier knowing their planet is safe, unmolested by the invaders who once wished to conquer them.

    Megla crosses her arms. "Humph. I respected Orgon, but his greed was insatiable. He would have sold his own spawn if it meant a promotion. Naturally, chasing after a 14th Era vessel would ignite every inch of that unquenchable greed."

    "It''s not that I doubted you," Jos�� clarifies, "but that one must always be cautious and never believe in the predictability of others. I have fought countless wars, and most of them ended due to one side slipping up tactically and pressing ahead on ground they assumed was within their grasp. What if the Th��lvik thought to send a second fleet behind the first one? What if the Buzor or Mallali learned of your attack on Tarus II and decided to follow-up with ill intentions? Always assume the worst, and you''ll live long, like this old fox."

    Both of the Kraktol nod in unison, savoring the words of wisdom from the almighty Terran, a being who can seemingly perform miracles with his all but limitless knowledge. As the ship draws nearer to Tarus II, the two of them take over the Tactical and Exploration consoles to scan for Kessu cities.

    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    "Admiral," Soren says, "I''ve located Elder Nyoor''s village, as per Synthmind 4131''s recorded coordinates. After scanning the nearby mountain range, I''ve detected roughly fifty Kessu survivors underground."

    Soren turns her head to look at Jos��. However, the Admiral doesn''t reply.

    Instead, the Terran stares ahead, a distant look in his eyes, as he gazes upon the blue-green orb swallowing up the Bloodbearer''s windows.

    "I came here often, you know," Jos�� says. "Tarus II, I mean. As I said before, this used to be a lush but deadly prison planet. Countless terrifying predator species roamed its forests. Unlike most prison worlds, this one was somewhat unique. We didn''t confine the prisoners to underground cells, but merely dropped them here without any resources. The strong survived, while the weak perished."

    He continues.

    "To think that this planet, once home to the galaxy''s most disgusting, horrific criminals, has now become the homeworld of cute little kitty-cats... it leaves me with an odd lump in my throat. I know that the galaxy has changed, and drastically at that, but still... seeing this world in particular makes me feel... nostalgic."

    Jos�� falls silent. As the Kraktol gaze at him, his thoughts slowly revolve. He gives himself ample time to gaze at the scenery and think about the state of the galaxy.

    "Tarus II has two super-continents, both of them separated by a wide ocean. However, looking at them now, they seem to have noticeably shifted due to continental drift. 100,000,000 years... it''s unlikely much remains of the Terran strongholds, but I can''t help my curiosity on this matter. Umi, perform a detailed scan of Tarus II''s topography. Show me a manipulable map of its terrain; let me get a feel for its current situation."

    As Jos�� speaks, he turns around and walks to the Admiral''s chair, where Little Lele sits, careful not to step on the Kessu near his feet. The kitten stares at him with her sparkling brown eyes.

    "Do you wanna sit here, Big Baldy?"

    Jos�� smiles. "I do. Of course, cats sure have a way of stealing a humans'' chair. Let''s compromise."

    He grabs the kitten by her sides, plops in the chair, and sets her on his lap. "Have you ever seen a holo-map before?"

    Lele nods. "Mhm!"

    The Admiral, expecting her to say no, blinks in surprise. "Err, you have? Where?"

    "My aunt showed me," Lele says, as she casually licks her paw. "Aunt Lorrie has all kinds of neat stuff. I''ve gone to visit her every couple of weeks since I was born."

    Lele''s grandfather, Nyoor, walks over and bows politely. "Great Precursor, what my grand-kitten says is true. I have taken her to visit her aunt in the nearby city of Hadris many times. My niece, Lorrie, teaches kittens in the local school. Lele naturally takes after her, so she is just as smart as my sister."

    A glint appears in Jos��''s eyes as he gently pets Lele''s head. "Hmm. This ''Lorrie'' must be quite intelligent, indeed, if she can turn Lele into a genius. I''ll make sure to pay my respects when we rescue her."

    Without giving the matter any additional thought, Jos�� falls silent and waits for Umi to finish a topographical scan. Eventually, a holographic, three-dimensional map materializes before Jos��''s face. The Admiral uses one hand to balance Lele on his leg, and the other to grab and the air and start twisting, spinning, and panning around the virtual atlas.

    The Kessu stare at the hologram with sparkles in their eyes, clearly excited by the ''magic'' Jos�� uses to gaze down upon their world like a lofty god. However, Lele and the Kraktol appear considerably less impressed.

    As Jos�� examines the different continents, Lele points at a cluster of mountains. "There. That''s where me and daddy live."

    "A well-fortified location," Jos�� says, examining it with the eye of a military man. "A dense forest to the south, and mountains halfway encircling the village. It looks like this spot here must be the caves where your people fled?"

    "Mhm," Lele answers without hesitation. "And over here, see this place? It''s Hadris."

    Lele points at a small city some 100 kilometers from her village. The size of it appears small and somewhat insignificant, but Jos�� still scrutinizes it.

    "How interesting. Megla, Soren. Come look at this."

    The Kraktol blink in confusion, but they follow Jos��''s orders and walk over to examine the map. "Yes, Admiral?"

    Jos�� lazily spins his finger in a circle around the city of Hadris. "What do you see here?"

    Clearly confused, both of the women shrug.

    "Brick buildings?" Megla asks.

    "Let me be more specific," Jos�� says, his voice containing a hint of mystery. "When you look at this Kessu city, is there anything about its architecture or layout that jumps out at you?"

    Megla laughs. "Kyargh! It''s primitive!"

    "I suppose it''s... orderly?" Soren adds, her voice raising an octave.

    "That''s a good observation," the Admiral says, praising Soren. "Orderly. The buildings in this city belong to a species that, for whatever reason, gave up space technology and travel, yet if you examine the layout of Hadris''s streets, and pay attention to the uniformity of its building designs, you might notice it has a distinct sense of planning and design to its name. This, of course, bears witness to how the Kessu were once scientists and explorers, a species which focused on comprehending the chaos of the universe to bring out its order from within."

    Megla appears just as mystified as ever, but Soren''s eyes change slightly. "Admiral, we... we already know the Kessu used to be scientists and engineers. Why are you bringing up their architecture and city design all of a sudden?"

    Jos�� chuckles wryly. "The fact you have to ask somewhat saddens me, but I suppose it''s expected. Tell me, among all the Terran artifacts the modern archaeologists have uncovered, have any of them told the tale of the Volgrim?"

    "No," Soren answers. "You''ve mentioned them before, but that was the first time I''d ever heard of them."

    With all the Kessu and Kraktol gazing at him, Jos�� sighs melancholically. "I suppose it makes sense. The first and greatest enemy humanity defeated to ascend to the stars were the Volgrim, alien overlords who ruled the Milky Way. They controlled every planet, every sector, every rock on every moon. After we defeated them, their historical records ended up inside of museums and vaults, rarely seeing the light of day. However, there was one manual which became exceedingly prolific among every Terran military force. No matter who they were or what position they had in society, every cadet had to become intimately familiar with its words, memorize its contents, and treat it as their holy book."

    He continues. "That manual was known as the ''Order to Chaos.'' Its author was none other than the First Founder of the Volgrim, humanity''s greatest enemy and the former undisputed ruler of the galaxy... Unarin."

    Megla crosses her arms. She doesn''t say anything, and neither does Soren. However, both of them appear at least somewhat interested in this tale of humanity''s greatest enemy.

    "Unarin was not a powerful combatant, not even compared to a mediocre Private like myself," Jos�� says, somewhat self-deprecatingly. "But within his mind lurked the wisdom of a thousand dragons. He was so frighteningly intelligent that he could see through any deception, any ploy, and any lie, no matter how great or insignificant... and he only needed to do one thing."

    Jos�� gestures at the holographic map. "He would merely look at the order of something, the way a society constructed itself, and he would comprehend their very being. In this way, he could see through their intentions and predict their actions."

    This time, Soren''s expression becomes one of shock, while Megla''s morphs to disbelief. "Do you expect us to believe that? Kyargh! It sounds like nonsense to me! What, so this ''Unarin'' could look at a city and instantly figure out its people''s thoughts? That''s the most ridiculous thing I''ve ever heard!"

    Soren nods slowly. "It... it does sound improbable."

    "I studied ''Order to Chaos'' countless times. It became a sort of divine tome in my eyes," Jos�� says, a faint smile on his face. He gazes at the holographic map with a look of sadness. "But I never fully understood its meaning. I could understand much of Unarin''s theories. I could force myself to comprehend some of his underlying assumptions... but the deeper intent behind his words always evaded me. Compared to the legends regarding how he could annihilate any combat formation within minutes, I''ve always felt rather... inadequate."

    With a shake of his head, Jos�� continues. "In any case, due to Umi''s memory degradation, I''ve since lost the ''Order to Chaos'' manual. I memorized it thousands of years ago, so I''ll write it down for you sometime. I just wanted to explain that there are certain things in this world you can''t take for granted... even something as simple as the layout of a city."

    A moment passes.

    "I will await your completion of this scripture," Soren mutters, her expression somber. "If it''s really as incredible as you say, I''d love to read it."

    Megla waves her hand flippantly. "I''ll pass. I hate reading, anyway. It always makes my head hurt."

    "Suit yourself," Jos�� sighs. He returns to looking at the city layout and scrunches his forehead in concentration. "Looking at Hadris''s layout, this building here seems different from the others. I''m willing to bet this is where the city''s leader lives."

    The Admiral points at one of the many square, three-story structures on the map. It looks no different from the others, but Lele pipes up, astonishment in her voice. "Yeah! That''s my aunt Lorrie''s house! How did you figure that out?"

    "This city is indeed highly organized," Jos�� replies, "but among all the buildings, this one appears four meters taller. Given how the building''s actual height is no different from the identically-shaped structures surrounding it, I glanced at its base and noticed someone had deliberately built it upon a small, earthen hill. Such a small lump of earth could have easily been dug out and set aside, so someone clearly intended for this structure to be a little taller than the others. Subtle, but this added loftiness gives its occupants a slight sense of distinction, making others subconsciously raise their heads when greeting them."

    Concluding his examination, Jos�� shrugs. "My logical conclusion was that its occupant must have been the city''s ''leader.'' However, I can tell that, based upon the structure''s relative normalcy among the buildings surrounding it, the leader must be one in status, but not in name. They are neither a monarch, nor a king, nor a sovereign. Instead, they are more like a respected elder; someone afforded their position because of their accomplishments, someone who worked hard to earn their prestige. I find those sorts of people to be the most admirable."

    By now, even Megla realizes Jos��''s words must have some truth to them. "You... you can tell all of that... just by looking at the city?"

    "Not quite," Jos�� laughs, embarrassment on his face. "I cheated a little. I''m already well-acquainted with the Kessu, and Lele''s words have given me a few hints in this direction. For someone who truly comprehends the ''Order to Chaos,'' they could deduce even more than me with a single glance. I''m actually quite shameful in comparison."

    Soren''s eyes contain a distant gaze. "...No. I think you''re... remarkable, Admiral. I feel as if, once again, my eyes have opened into another world I never knew existed. Incredible. To pick up this much information without actually speaking to any of the people on the surface... and the most unbelievable thing is, when I listen to your words, they are both sound and logical. They are neither snap-judgments nor mere guesses."

    Feeling not only embarrassed, but a little self-conscious, Jos�� waves his hand and disperses the holo-map. He stands up while holding Lele in his arm and blushes.

    "Err, never mind all that. There''s no need to praise me over something this trivial. Once you see the Order to Chaos manual yourself, I''m sure you''ll make similar shallow observations as me. It''s nothing to be proud of. In any case, let''s get to work! We need to pick up the Kessu from Tarus II and bring them aboard."

    As Jos�� pushes past the Kraktol, an evil smile plays on Megla''s face. She watches as the Admiral walks toward the door and chuckles to herself.

    "Hee-hee! So the Admiral can make a face like this too, eh? He''s so cute when he''s shy!"

    Soren sighs. "Sister. Don''t tease the Admiral."

    "Aww, but why not? Kyargh! I''ve never seen him so self-conscious! We need to praise him more in the future so he keeps making those cute faces!"

    "...You are a strange one," Soren mutters. She walks behind Jos��, and her sister follows after. The Kessu stay on the bridge.

    "Great Precursor!" Nyoor calls out. "Shall I come as well?"

    Jos�� pauses just before walking outside. "No, Elder Nyoor, you can take a rest. I''ll use Lele as my guide. The rest of you stay behind. Megla, you can come with me to the planet below. Soren, you stay here and keep an eye out from the Bridge."

    Soren stops abruptly a few feet behind the Admiral. "Huh? You don''t want me to come?"

    "No," Jos�� says, his expression turning serious. "I need someone competent to stay aboard the Bloodbearer. I trust you will contact me if your people show up in space?"

    Soren glances at Megla, disappointment in her eyes. "...Yes. I will stay. I''ll tell you if any Kraktol vessels appear."

    "Good!"

    Jos�� beckons to Megla. "You come with me."

    Hardly has the Admiral taken two steps before Nyoor''s wife, Baaru, follows after him. "I''ll come, too! Don''t you worry about me, Great Precursor. This old woman still has plenty of spring in her step!"

    "Err," Jos�� hesitates. "We really don''t want to take too many people..."

    "My little kitten, Ruuki, is down there!" Baaru protests. She stops a few feet from Jos��''s knees and gazes up at him defiantly. "I''m also the Matriarch of my village! The others will trust you more if I''m there to assure them."

    To her surprise, Jos�� doesn''t protest. "Ah, good point. I hadn''t thought of that. Very well, I''ll have to trouble you."

    The party of four turns to leave. Baaru waves goodbye to Nyoor, and he waves back, not worried in the slightest about her health. "Prraw! You take care, my dear! Bring our son back, safe and sound!"

    "I most certainly will," Baaru meows, assuming a dignified posture.

    The group leaves, and the Bridge falls silent.

    After a minute, Soren sighs and walks over to the Admiral''s chair. Once she''s plopped down, she glances at the ceiling. "Synthmind, can we follow their progress on the planet with your sensors?"

    "Affirmative," Umi intones. "Given the readings I''ve taken for the Kessu inside the caves, all of them seem to be in relatively good health. A half-dozen of them appear malnourished, but the rest have plenty of energy left. With the Admiral going there in person, there''s no chance any creature on the planet will be able to threaten the Kessu."

    Soren frowns. "I know the Admiral is strong... far stronger than any Kraktol I''ve ever met... but sometimes I wonder what his limit is. Is he... invincible?"

    Umi''s reply is about as dry and bland as anyone could imagine.

    "In this era, that is a distinct possibility."

    Following Umi''s reply, everyone on the Bridge quietly waits for the Admiral and his crew''s departure.

 Chapter 22: Hidden Reserves

    Admiral Jos�� Rodriguez leans back comfortably in the Slipstream''s captain''s chair. In the first officer''s position beside him, Megla also relaxes, her thick crocodilian tail wedged through a hole in the chair''s rear. Evidently, Nyoor''s people cut out holes in the chairs so their Patriarch and new arrivals could sit more comfortably when the need arose.

    Baaru stands at the front of the bridge, gazing through the Slipstream''s front windows as the ship drops down to the world of Tarus II below. Baaru holds her granddaughter, Lele, in her arms. The kitten wraps one arm around her grandma and follows her gaze to the woodlands beneath the Slipstream.

    "Waa! So pretty!" Lele says, stars in her eyes. "I''ve never seen a forest from the sky before! Look at how green it is, grammy!"

    Baaru smiles. "Your mother would have loved this sight. She always did have a strong affinity for nature. Looks like you take after her."

    The Matriarch''s tail swishes from side to side. Baaru''s cat-ears twitch slightly. "Our village... there''s nothing left."

    The Slipstream flies overhead, allowing them a good, long look at the scorched ruins of their home. No longer do their friends and family hustle around with smiles on their faces. A few scary-looking creatures, with thick, shaggy fur, long and pointy noses, and predatory eyes, tear apart the burned corpses in the village. The creatures dart around on four long, slender legs, their appearances vaguely resembling hyenas.

    Baaru and Lele''s smiles fade away. They avert their eyes, unable to watch as one of the predators pounces upon a Kessu corpse and starts chomping on the bones.

    Tears well up in the Matriarch''s eyes. "Sniff... my children... my nieces and nephews..."

    The Admiral gazes dispassionately at the creatures lurking throughout the village. "Baaru. I know you''re in pain right now, but... can you tell me about those four-legged predators? What are they?"

    The Matriarch paws at her tear-filled eyes. "Th-they''re Xonbils... normally we''d easily scare them away from the village... but the Koogali tree... it''s...!"

    Baaru shakily points a hand toward a tree at the western side of the village. There, a tipped-over, burned tree lays on the ground, its ashes a faded reminder of its once-great presence.

    "That tree kept the Xonbils away?" Jos�� asks.

    Baaru turns to look at Jos�� and nods, as even more tears drip down her fur. "Uuu... it was our protector... a divine tree that made the monsters leave us alone. Now it''s dead... along with everyone else..."

    Admiral Rodriguez meets Baaru''s despondent gaze and sighs in his heart.

    Truly, endless tragedy follows in hatred''s wake.

    He raises his head. "Synthmind 4131. What are the evolution levels of those creatures?"

    Overhead, the Slipstream''s AI beeps in reply. "Admiral Rodriguez. This synthmind calculates that their evolutionary levels are as follows:"

    "Intelligence Rating: [ONE POINT SEVEN ONE]."

    "Speed Rating: [SEVEN POINT SIX FIVE]."

    "Musculature Rating: [TWELVE POINT NINE ONE]."

    "Overall Threat Rating: [THREE POINT SIX SIX]."

    The Synthmind falls silent, giving Jos�� a moment to think.

    "Hmm. Three point six. That''s much lower than I remember Tarus II''s monster ratings. These might be fringe outliers. 4131, run a scan of other nearby creatures. Are there any above an overall threat assessment level of ten?"

    Several minutes follow, as the Slipstream hovers above the village, unmoving.

    "Negative," 4131 replies. "This synthmind is unable to detect any creatures above a threat level of ten. However, I did locate three creatures with an overall threat rating of seven point five to the mountainous region north of this location."

    Jos�� snorts derisively. "Small fry. Alright, bring us in for a landing. Megla, grab a weapon from the back. Go out there and kill all the Xonbils in the village."

    The yellow-scaled Kraktol beside Jos�� flinches in surprise. "Huh? Me? Why not you? You''re much better at combat."

    "I''m the Admiral," Jos�� replies indifferently. "It''s more appropriate for you to take action. Don''t tell me you''re afraid of a few predators rated three on the threat assessment scanner."

    Megla shakes her head. "Of course not. I''ll go at once. I''m just surprised you''d tell me to do it."

    Jos�� shrugs. "Who else? You''re my best, and only, high-level soldier. Just think of this as training."

    After a pause, the Admiral chuckles.

    "Training... haha."

    "Is something funny?" Megla asks.

    "Yeah. That Troll you and your sister fought like hell to barely defeat... what number do you think a threat assessment scanner would give it?"

    Megla glances outside at the fearsome-looking, hyena-like predators lurking in the village below.

    "Um... it was really strong. Perhaps it would register as a... twenty?"

    "No. One hundred and sixteen," Jos�� grumbles. "And the one I fought would barely fall short of two hundred. If you can''t take care of these ''Xonbils'' by yourself, I''m going to be awfully ashamed of you."

    Megla''s scales flush pink with indignation for a moment. "Tch. So you just wanted to make fun of me. Whatever! I''ll go kill them. Give me a few minutes."

    She climbs out of her seat and walks toward the weapon lockers in the back of the ship. As she readies herself, the Slipstream lands in the center on the village, making more than a hundred hungry Xonbils jerk their heads in its direction. Apprehensive about the strange metal ''bird'' setting down, some of them slowly skulk toward the Slipstream while sniffing the air.

    "Wooog!"

    One of the Xonbils releases a low-pitched howl, making its comrades close in and encircle the Slipstream.

    Eventually, the Slipstream''s landing ramp slides down, startling a few of the nearby predators. They retreat several steps and snarl angrily at the big bird''s odd movements, only for yelps of fear and pain to go up among their ranks.

    Megla, sporting a deadly energy carbine, steps out of the Slipstream''s embrace and begins calmly squeezing the trigger time after time. Her usually fierce nature gives way to boredom as she advances down the ramp and begins felling one Xonbil after another, causing panic to rise among their ranks. A few of the animals charge at her, but they end up with massive, bloody holes in their heads. The smarter ones flee with their tails between their legs, living to see another day.

    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    Not five minutes later, Megla finishes clearing out the village of the mangy mutts. Their three-meter-tall bodies appear pitiful beyond belief as they flee into the distance, yipping and screeching at the top of their lungs.

    After sweeping the perimeter, Megla casually strolls back into the Slipstream and arrives on its Bridge.

    "Done."

    Jos�� appears just as unenthusiastic about her resounding victory, but when her gaze falls upon the three Kessu, all of them with looks of gratitude in their eyes, her expression softens.

    "...What? Don''t look at me with those eyes."

    Baaru suppresses her emotions while bowing deeply. "I''ve fought Xonbils before, outside of the village. They''re vicious, lethal creatures... but you defeated them with such ease. Thank you. Now we can lay the bodies of our families to rest."

    "You''re so strong!" Lele praises, stars in her eyes. "I didn''t know big Swamp Sister was this cool!"

    "Don''t call me that," Megla grumbles. "Stupid furball. If the Admiral hadn''t ordered me, I''d have left those bodies to rot. Sheesh. Only a bunch of weak little Xonbils... stop acting like I... like I did you some big favor."

    Despite Megla''s harsh words, she quickly turns away to prevent the Kessu from seeing her face. A slightly prideful smile appears at the corners of her giant, crocodilian mouth.

    Hehe. Yeah, I am pretty awesome.

    She turns to look at the Admiral, only to spot a derisive smirk on his face. He leans his chin on his fist and laughs.

    "Psh. Look at how that praise went right to your head. You''re still green, girl."

    Megla scowls. "Jerk! I am not! I''m red. Tch. Stupid and blind... you don''t even know your colors."

    The Kraktol female turns and walks out of the Bridge, leaving Jos�� stunned.

    Did... did she think I was referring to her scales? I need to be choosier with my idioms.

    The Admiral rises to his feet. "Alright. Baaru, Lele, I''ll set the Slipstream to Defender Mode. No more Xonbils will come to the village. Let''s recover your family from under the mountain, then come back and bury the dead."

    Baaru wipes her tears away and forces a smile. "Y-yes! Thank you, Great Precursor. I''m sorry to trouble you like this... but my children..."

    Jos�� sighs. "I understand."

    ...

    Several minutes later, the two Kessu, the Terran, and the Kraktol walk through the village, gazing upon its ruinage with varying degrees of anguish, sympathy, and pity. Even Megla looks mildly perturbed.

    "I''m... I''m sorry," Megla says. "I''m more than a little responsible for this. It''s my fault this happened."

    Baaru glances at Megla and narrows her eyes. "Yes. You are at least partially at fault. But... at least, in the end... you''ve repented. I can''t hate you."

    Baaru walks forward. She stops beside the body of a small, badly mangled and burned body.

    After gazing at the deceased Kessu for several seconds, Baaru''s eyes grow vacant.

    "I... I can''t recognize them. Not their fur, nor their clothes. I don''t know who this is."

    Jos��''s eyes change and shift, allowing him to zoom in on the corpse. After scrutinizing it for a minute, he shakes his head.

    Awful. That poor Kessu... they didn''t die from their burns. They lived long enough for at least two Xonbils to rip them apart. I can''t bear to tell Baaru.

    The Admiral coughs out a lie. "At least, whoever they were, they perished quickly. Let''s keep moving. The sooner we reach the caves, the sooner we can rescue whoever has survived."

    Baaru nods absentmindedly and rises to her feet. Her legs wobble as nausea threatens to overtake her, but Megla quickly steps up and wraps an arm around her waist.

    "Careful, you. Here, I''ll help you up. Are you alright? Do you need any water?"

    Baaru stares at the ground, a distant look in her eyes. "I''m... I''m fine. Let''s go... let''s find my boy."

    After Megla helps the Matriarch, Lele pulls away from them and walks over to Jos��''s side.

    "Hey, Big Baldy. What''s wrong with grandma?"

    Jos�� picks up Lele and sets her on his shoulder. "She''s sad, Lele. Heartbroken. Give her time... space... try to comfort her. It''s the natural order of things."

    After a moment, Jos�� coughs. "Have you ever had anyone you loved die before?"

    Lele nods, her usual cheerfulness replaced instead with resignation. "Yeah. My mommy died when I was really little. Daddy didn''t talk about her much. I could always tell he missed her."

    Megla finishes helping Baaru. She returns to the Admiral''s side, just in time to hear Lele''s words. She says nothing, instead leaving everything up to Jos��.

    "That''s unfortunate," Jos�� says, gently squeezing Lele''s paw. "My parents died a long time ago, too. Well, before I ended up here, I mean. All the humans are dead, so... I guess that''s a given."

    "Do you miss them?" Lele asks.

    "Yes. Every day. The wound never goes away. The best you can hope is that eventually the pain will fade into more of... more of an unpleasant memory. Sometimes, it never happens."

    The group spends a few minutes consoling one another. Eventually, they return to the mission at hand.

    Baaru steels her mind. She begins walking toward the northern side of the village, beckoning for the others to follow.

    "The Ancient Cave is this way. Um... Great Precursor, it''s not that I doubt your skills but... the cave is extremely dangerous. It is a winding maze of traps and hungry predators. If the Kraktol hadn''t forced our claws, I would never wish for my people to seek refuge in its caverns. We must proceed with the utmost caution."

    Jos�� frowns. "Oh? If it''s so dangerous, then why...?"

    "Because while the cave is frightening, it also provides natural cover from the rain of fire those despicable Kraktol-"

    Baaru pauses, and glances at Megla, before changing her words.

    "...because the metal sky-birds cannot shoot their weapons through the mountain. If our attackers had landed and followed after us, they might have perished upon entering the caverns."

    "I see," Jos�� says. "One moment."

    He telepathically connects to Umi''s system aboard the Bloodbearer. After a moment, Jos�� transmits a command.

    [Umi. Scan the underground caverns. Tell me what creatures you can locate, and what their overall threat assessment ratings are.]

    [Affirmative, Admiral,] Comes the reply. After a minute, she replies, [I have completed the scan you requested. I detected 122,000 creatures beneath the mountain, within the winding caverns you will soon navigate. However, below the ten kilometer mark, my scanners are unable to penetrate the bedrock. It appears there are multiple ore veins of Trifrancium beneath the surface. The ambient radioactivity is making it impossible for the planetary scanners to reach the lower depths.]

    Jos��''s heart experiences a violent shock. [What?! Trifrancium ore veins? That''s impossible! This used to be a prison world. How can such a thing exist here? No! More importantly, how much Trifrancium can you detect?]

    Umi''s reply takes a few moments to sound off in Jos��''s head. [I detect approximately seventeen kilograms of Trifrancium scattered within the mountain''s depths.]

    [SEVENTEEN KILOGRAMS?!]

    Jos��''s stomach clenches so hard that he nearly falls to his knees.

    [W-what kind of an absurd number is that?! That''s enough Trifrancium to power a fleet of 10,000 ships for 10,000 years! How could an ore vein of this size go undetected on a world Ramma once controlled?]

    [Error. I do not know the answer to that question, Admiral.]

    The Admiral continues, not even directing his questions at the AI, but the nether. [Trifrancium doesn''t just spring up out of nowhere! It can''t have just magically popped into existence after 100,000,000 years! Not even a billion years would lead to such a result! It can only appear when planets form from primal, cosmic energy! The initial radioactivity can very rarely lead to thin veins of Trifrancium in their upper crusts... but even that is damned bloody rare! Considering the richness of this vein, how could Ramma''s Chosen have overlooked it for our entire existence?!]

    [Admiral. I am aware of Trifrancium''s rarity. However, your reaction is otherwise exaggerated. Whether the Bloodbearer has one milligram or one hundred kilograms, that will not affect my operations. Excess Trifrancium will not lead to an increase in my output or efficiency.]

    It takes the Admiral a minute to calm himself down. He rubs sweat off his face, making Lele look at him. "Big Baldy? What''s the matter? Are you going to cry, too?"

    "Um, maybe," Jos�� says, suppressing a laugh. "...But not for the same reason as you."

    Umi speaks again. [Admiral, to answer your question from earlier: The strongest life-form I have detected within the caverns rates approximately a thirty-five on my threat assessment index. However, due to the Trifrancium veins, I believe you should exercise extreme caution when delving into the underground depths. It is possible other aberrant life-forms may exist capable of harming your life.]

    [Right, right,] Jos�� says, casually discarding Umi''s warning. [I''ll bring a weapon. Umi, while I''m under the mountain, I want you to develop a plan to mine out as much Trifrancium as possible. Even if it does us no good, I think we should obtain as much of it as possible.]

    [Orders acknowledged, Admiral. I will develop a mining algorithm for the Slipstream.]

    Nodding his head, Jos�� turns to Megla. "Hey. Go grab another rifle from the weapon lockers for me. It might be a little dangerous down there, so I''d rather be prepared."

    Seeing the look of casual confidence on Jos��''s face, Megla nods. "Oh, sure. I''ll return in a minute."

    After Megla leaves, Jos�� walks over to Baaru and Lele. "I''ve confirmed the location of the missing Kessu, but we''ll need to be careful. We''ll go in and then come right back out, okay?"

    "Yes, Great Precursor," Baaru replies while forcing a smile. "I hope our trip goes well."

    "Don''t worry. You have a Terran protecting you..." Jos�� laughs.

    "...What could possibly go wrong?"

 Chapter 23: Knife in the Dark

    The party of four rescuers descends into the depths of the mountain. Jos�� leads the way, his nine-foot-tall body towering above all the others around him. Megla falls into stride on his right, while Baaru walks on his left, with Lele sandwiched between them.

    The darkness of the cave swallows them within minutes, making the previously blinding brightness of the outside world fade like a distant memory. Before the gloom can completely shroud their forms, a most peculiar sight unfolds. Jos��''s skin rapidly begins to shimmer and shine, turning his whole body into a 200-watt lightbulb. Megla winces as she looks at the Admiral in shock.

    "W-what? Is this magic?"

    Jos�� gently smiles. "No. I have countless nanites swimming within my body. I had a small portion of them alter my biochemical properties to temporarily turn me into a light in the dark. It''s nothing special. Any sufficiently advanced species could accomplish this, it just requires one to think of the method."

    The Admiral and his first officer Kraktol both hold large, 1.5-feet long energy rifles close to their chests. Megla clutches hers tightly, as if she''s afraid of dropping it in a moment of surprise, while Jos�� casually points the barrel of his at the ground. He exercises good trigger discipline by keeping his fingers away from the gun''s trigger, but says nothing when Megla nervously does the opposite.

    Megla swallows heavily. "You Terrans sure are... strange."

    Admiral Rodriguez flicks his eyes around the caverns, observing the jagged, uneven surfaces as they walk. Razor-sharp rocks stick out of the ground, threatening to trip anyone unobservant enough to miss their existence, yet not a single member of his party stumbles even the slightest. They walk both quickly and cautiously, evading the natural traps as they proceed.

    "And you''re awfully jumpy," Jos�� replies. "You took out those Xonbils with ease, yet now you look like you''re about to wet yourself."

    Megla''s yellow scales flush orange with embarrassment. "I... I''m a little bit afraid of the dark."

    Guiltily, she looks up at Jos��, only to scowl when she observes his suppressed smile. "...You! Don''t laugh! It''s humiliating! I-I can''t help being a little nervous!"

    "Haha, it''s not that," Jos�� chuckles, as he looks away. His eyes shift color and become deep blue as he allows the nanites in his body to pierce the dense gloom ahead. "It''s just, I had a buddy in the military... more of a blood-brother, really. Nicholai Azaram. Great guy, and my best friend. We worked together on countless missions. We crossed dimensions, traveled through time, toppled star nations... you name it."

    The Admiral continues. "Nick was a monster. A peerless genius in the art of combat. Compared to him, I''m not even worth mentioning in the same breath. But... haha... well, he also started getting trigger-happy when he stepped into the dark. Funniest thing ever."

    Slowly, Jos��''s smile fades. A deep look of sadness takes its place, as his eyes become distant. "My best friend. Can''t ever see him again. His body disintegrated right in front of me. Never even got to say goodbye."

    Startled, Megla observes the look of deep melancholy on Jos��''s face for a few moments without replying.

    She turns her head forward and stares into the darkness. "I''m sorry, Admiral. That must have been hard on you."

    "Yes. An understatement, to say the least," Jos�� says, his expression returning to its usual stoicness. "I''d have cut my own heart out if it meant I could save my brother. I loved him more than I loved myself."

    Megla''s throat turns dry. "I... ah, why don''t you tell me more about Nicholai? I''d like to know more about this person who was so important to you."

    Half-expecting Jos�� to turn down her request due to the pain in his heart, Megla shakes her head inwardly. She knows with only a glance that the bond between Jos�� and Nicholai must have been ten times, if not ten thousand times deeper than between her and Soren.

    However, Jos�� surprises her. After a minute of contemplation, he opens his mouth.

    "Nicky-boy and I weren''t just close. We shared everything. He knew all my insecurities. All my weaknesses. In turn, I knew everything about him. He was a giant, more than a foot taller than me. Even among Terrans, he was not someone you could fight without losing a part of your life."

    Jos�� glances at Megla meaningfully. "When I defeated the Gate Troll, do you remember what I said?"

    She nods. "You said Private Azaram came up with the method to defeat it. The... the special technique."

    The Kraktol''s expression turns ghastly as she remembers the horrifying sight of Jos�� plunging his arm elbow-deep inside the monster''s anal cavities. Her scales shudder as she looks away, trying desperately to contain her stomach.

    However, Jos�� doesn''t tease her. He simply nods and sighs. "Yes. I also said that, compared to other Terrans, especially Ramma''s Chosen, I was only a bit above average. But Nicky... haha."

    The Admiral''s pupils dilate slightly. "Nicky-boy wasn''t like me. He was a god of war. His strength sundered mountains. His willpower could split the seas. There wasn''t a woman he couldn''t bed, nor would he turn them down. His charisma... his charm. Everything about that man was a thousand times better than me."

    "Were you jealous of his talent?" Megla asks.

    "No. Not even a little. He wasn''t just my brother, but my idol. I looked up to him more than Ramma or the God Emperor himself."

    The Kessu walk beside Jos�� in silence. None of them say a word, and instead choose to listen in on Jos��''s conversation with Megla. They gaze up at their savior, feeling a deep sense of remorse emanating from his soul.

    "What did he look like?" Megla asks. She subconsciously relaxes her grip on her weapon, as she tries to picture Nicholai''s appearance in her mind. "You''re the only Terran I''ve seen, so..."

    "I can create a holo-projection when we return," Jos�� says, his voice shaking slightly. "But... I don''t know if I could bear to look at him standing before me. Not even if he''s only a projection."

    "You don''t need to go that far," Megla hurriedly replies. "Just a general description. I know he was bigger than you. What else?"

    Nodding, Jos�� gestures toward the Kessu on his left. "In this galaxy, the various species often have very distinct appearances. Differently colored fur, scales, body builds... and so on. Humans weren''t quite like that. The most obvious thing you would notice if you placed me next to Nick, aside from his height, was his skin color."

    "He had pitch-black skin," Jos�� says. "Like the color of obsidian. His expression was always relaxed and casual. He''d laugh at any joke and make the person telling it feel like they were the center of the universe. He had a... a big, pointy chin. Full head of black hair, thicker than mine."

    The Admiral frowns. "Thin lips. Um... his nose was a big bigger than mine, too. His eyes were bottomless, as if he could read your mind with a single look. However, he wasn''t perfect. Nick had plenty of flaws."

    "Well, that''s a relief," Megla says, forcing a smile. "I''m having trouble thinking of a being more impressive than you. It''s difficult to imagine you Terrans as anything but sky-shattering monsters."

    Jos�� pauses. He looks at Megla meaningfully. "When I fought Orgon aboard the Dragon''s Breath... he stated that he was the strongest Kraktol among the fleet. Was he telling the truth?"

    Caught off-guard by Jos��''s question, Megla stumbles over a rock in her path and quickly turns to look at him. "Orgon? Uh, yes? Why do you ask?"

    "Don''t be alarmed. It''s just a question," Jos�� laughs. "You see... one of the reasons Terrans eventually conquered the galaxy was due to how we organized our militaries. If you were to follow our example... the Kraktol empire would expand at lightspeed and quickly become capable of stomping other sentients into the mud."

    The Admiral says such words with incredible confidence, making Megla instinctively believe him. "Really? What do you mean? What made your military so scary, then?"

    "The Kraktol follow a standard organizational structure, one my people formerly used," Jos�� explains. "Your best warriors rise through the ranks and become battlefield commanders. Terrans followed the same path, up until the moment we faced the deadliest enemy of our existence... the Volgrim. I know you don''t think much of your smarts, Megla, but think for a moment and tell me... doesn''t this sort of organizational structure have a deep, inherent flaw?"

    Megla barely takes a second to react. "Y-yes. How strange, Admiral. How very strange... I''ve had such a thought many times before."

    "You have?"

    Jos�� blinks, then turns to Megla with a deep look in his eyes. "I underestimated you. Go on, then. Describe the flaw for me."

    "Well..." Megla replies, suddenly feeling awkward beneath Jos��''s gaze. "...I''ve always thought it was odd that, with enemies on all sides, we would take our best combatants off the battlefield and put them into leadership positions. This robs our military of its mightiest soldiers. In theory, it''s a good idea to reward those who accomplish the most incredible feats, but if it means losing a talented sniper, soldier, or frontliner... the cost seems incredibly steep."

    "You''re exactly right," Jos�� says, slowly nodding. "Terrans used to do the same thing. However, once we faced the Volgrim, we realized we needed super-soldiers, bred for combat, to take the frontlines."

    He continues. "I''m over 7,500 years old, assuming you exclude my time spent in stasis. I''ve accomplished countless feats on behalf of my military. Likewise, the same was true of my blood-brother, Nicky-boy. However, not once were we offered or did we desire to obtain the positions of monarchs and rulers. Instead, Terran soldiers fought until their combat capabilities reached a plateau. Once they started seeing a decline, they would step down and assume the roles of military leaders. This way, not only did we keep the most prime, fearsome, unstoppable warriors on the battlefield, but our commanders would also end up as seasoned, grizzled veterans."

    "We would become peerless in the art of war," He adds. "Every soldier respected and trusted their commanders... because in the end, we knew that not only did they know more than us, but they had done what we did for many times longer. It created an unshakable bedrock of trust and stability among our militaries, one which eventually shook the heavens and allowed us to step over the bodies of our mightiest enemies."

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    Jos�� reaches over and squeezes Megla''s shoulder. "If you want to become stronger... make a change within yourself. Don''t strive to advance your political career, nor your prestige in the eyes of others. Focus entirely on your self-advancement. In time, you will become unrivaled beneath the heavens... just like my brother once was."

    Megla nods. "I''ll do that."

    "Good."

    The Terran retracts his hand, then slows to a stop. In front of his eyes, a holographic map hovers in midair, created by the nanites inside his body. The caves up ahead shimmer and shine, as easy for him to see as if there were a sun blazing in the underground confines.

    However, the holographic map hisses and sputters, making him narrow his eyes.

    [Admiral,] Umi says, at exactly that moment. [You are about to reach the limits of my scanning capabilities. There are countless micrograms of Trifrancium scattered in the upcoming region. Until this point, I have managed to guide you around the predatory creatures lurking within those caves. However, I am unable to detect any additional life forms, or to map out the path ahead. You will be on your own. Proceed with caution.]

    Jos��''s head bobs imperceptibly. [Noted. Are you able to get a transporter lock through the interference?]

    [Negative. In the event of a catastrophe, I will bombard the mountain from orbit and attempt to teleport you before the caves collapse. However, I will only be able to rescue ten people at most if that happens. Additionally, the odds of successfully obtaining a transporter lock will be statistically insignificant.]

    It takes Jos�� a few moments of thinking before he replies.

    [Alright. I won''t underestimate this world. Tarus II used to be home to countless horrific life-forms. It''s unlikely the monsters that once lurked in this world''s jungles would devolve into timid little rabbits after 100,000,000 years. More likely, they''ve only grown fiercer. Since I don''t know what''s up ahead, I will proceed with the utmost caution.]

    Admiral Rodriguez reaches into his pocket, pulls out a small, circular object, and slaps it against Megla''s chest. The Kraktol female, paying more attention to the sounds in the darkness ahead than her Admiral, nearly jumps out of her skin in fright.

    "Gah! W-what in the Th��lvik''s name are you doing?! You scared the daylights out of me! Don''t just suddenly grab me like that!"

    With a quiet laugh, Jos�� replies, "Haha, sorry. I wasn''t trying to startle you. Didn''t you notice the present I gave you, just now?"

    "Present?"

    Megla lowers her long, crocodilian snout, only to spot the palm-sized circular object adhering to the scales on her chest.

    "...The heck is this?"

    "In the era I came from, it was nothing special," Jos�� says, his tone bland. "But in this era... well, it''s probably capable of turning you into an invincible god. The Terrans called it a Survival Suit. Press that big red button in the middle and see what happens."

    A skeptical look washes across Megla''s face, but she doesn''t protest. Not once has Jos�� shown her the slightest hostility, nor has he ever treated her with contempt or disrespect. Toward him, an intensely deep trust has already appeared within the depths of her heart.

    However, she still won''t admit that to anyone. "Pft. Survival Suit. Let''s see how good this Precursor tech really is, then."

    Tap.

    Megla''s claw presses the red button on the object''s center. Instantly, bursts of electricity explode from its borders, making her pupils shrink to slits. Before she can react, the electrical energy blasts around her body, enveloping her in a dazzling light. Within three seconds, the energy dissipates, forming a faint, transparent force-field that practically adheres to her skin.

    "What... what sorcery is this?!" Megla gasps. "It''s like I''m... like I''m wearing... stretchy glass... or something!"

    "Hahaha!" Jos�� guffaws, clearly amused by her crude description. "I guess you could call it that! Check this out."

    The Admiral bends over, grabs a small rock off the floor and turns toward a nearby wall. His smile vanishes, and an intense look appears in his eyes. He coils his arm back, compresses a massive amount of strength into his arm, and flings the rock at the wall.

    BOOM!!

    The rock strikes with such power and ferocity that a three-meter crater appears in the wall, spraying debris in every direction. The two Kessu shriek with fright, while their fur stands on end.

    Little Lele recovers quickly. She jumps excitedly. "Wowie! Wowowow! Big Baldy is awesome! He''s so strong!"

    Megla stares in disbelief. "That... uh... can I do that too?"

    "No, don''t be silly," Jos�� says indifferently. "You just stand right where you are."

    When Jos�� bends over and grabs another rock off the ground, Megla''s scales turn a ghastly grey. "W-wait, Admiral... I get the point! It''s a protective barrier, right? Haha! That''s great! You don''t n-need to show me-"

    "Stand right there," Jos�� orders, as he walks twenty paces away. "Don''t move."

    The Kraktol''s scales turn from grey to pure white as all of her blood drains away. "You destroyed that wall! Admiral, please, i-it''s not that I don''t trust you! I''m sure this suit is really strong, b-but-"

    Even with Megla''s knees trembling like leaves in the wind, Jos�� merely turns to face her, a look of smug satisfaction on his face. "Calm down. This won''t hurt a bit."

    "Please! Admiral! I don''t want to die! Not like this!"

    Seeing that Jos�� isn''t about to back down, Megla swallows her terror and holds up her arms to protect her chest and face. She lowers her head and closes her eyes, praying for a swift death. The Kraktol shivers in fear, completely unable to believe that the Admiral''s awesome strength won''t turn this silly little ''Survival Suit'' into shreds.

    Jos�� once again winds up, coils his arm back, and takes aim.

    "Oh no!" Jos�� yells. "I think the suit turned off!"

    Megla screams in terror. "It did?!"

    She raises her head and opens her eyes, only to see Jos�� smiling.

    "Just kidding."

    The moment after he speaks, Jos�� hurls the rock with all his strength. It flings from his arm at half the speed of sound and detonates against Megla''s exposed chest like a cannonball.

    BOOM!!

    The sound, like a shotgun to the face, jars Megla''s senses. She opens her mouth to scream, only to pause.

    "...Eh?"

    Not only is the Survival Suit protecting her still completely intact, but the impact of Jos��''s ferocious throw doesn''t even nudge her back an inch.

    "...I''m alive?"

    Completely shocked and in disbelief, Megla begins to slap her shielded body, marveling at how her claws can''t even touch her scales unless she moves them slowly and deliberately.

    Jos��, clearly not surprised, saunters over and nods. "Survival Suits are special devices made for exploration and combat. Not only do they possess illuminative properties similar to the nanites within my skin, but they also can shield you from the most gruesome and grievous of wounds. I wanted to give one to you and your sister, but for now, this is the only one I''ve managed to reconstruct."

    "Reconstruct?"

    Megla apes the specific word back at Jos��.

    "You built this for me?"

    "Haha, of course," Jos�� replies. "You''re my precious First Officer! I have to protect you, don''t I? It''s not as if I''ll need a device like that any time soon. As long as you have a Survival Suit, I''ll rest assured nothing can happen to you down here."

    Feeling sincerely touched, Megla lowers her head. "I''m sorry, Admiral. I should have trusted you. But... why didn''t you explain how this Survival Suit functioned? You scared me half to death!"

    Shrugging, Jos�� laughs. "Because I thought it would be funny."

    "What! You jerk!"

    Megla lightly socks Jos��''s arm, but her punch doesn''t have any anger in it.

    "Jeez. Thanks, okay? I do appreciate your little ''present.''"

    Waving his hands, Jos�� strides back to his spot between Megla and the Kessu.

    "No need to rest on ceremony. I''ll give the next one I make to Soren," Jos�� says, waving her words away. "If it weren''t for us needing to travel into such a dangerous location, I''d have probably given it to her first. After all, you''re much stronger than her."

    "Is that why you told my sister to stay aboard the Bloodbearer?"

    The party of four continues walking, while Jos�� shakes his head. "Not entirely. I had other reasons."

    "Like what?"

    Megla''s question goes unanswered. Jos�� smiles mysteriously and shakes his head. "Who can know?"

    From the Terran''s feet, Lele shouts. "Hey! Big Baldy! I want a Super Suit too! It''s my birthday soon, so you''ve gotta make me one too, okay?!"

    "Oh, your birthday?" Jos�� asks, clearly surprised. "You''ll be turning three, then?"

    "Not three! Seven! Seven years old!"

    Jos�� nods. "I see. You''ll be turning six years old."

    "Seven! I said seven! Didn''t you hear me?!"

    The Terran''s light teasing makes Lele start to fume, but he merely shakes his head.

    "Haha. Children are almost as fun to mess with as you, Megla."

    The Kraktol scowls. "There you go, teasing me again!"

    ...

    Several minutes pass.

    As they descend further into the mountain, Jos��''s party laughs a lot less. Everyone, including Lele, falls silent.

    The Admiral''s expression turns solemn as he gazes around the caverns. Even without Umi''s mapping capabilities, his nanite-imbued vision allows him to see into the deepest, darkest crevasses.

    "How very strange..." The Admiral mutters.

    "Is something wrong?" Megla asks.

    "Not exactly."

    Jos�� pauses for a breath.

    "It''s more that... so far, our progress has been extremely easy. You heard Umi''s report. She detected 122,000 creatures underneath this mountain. Before, she cautiously guided us away from their movements, down countless winding paths, yet even after she stopped assisting me... not one predator has so much as peeped at us."

    The Admiral''s next words turn Megla''s blood to ice.

    "It''s too quiet. I believe something is stalking us. An intelligent monster..."

    "...An aberrant."

    Jos�� turns his head backward and glances back down the path they came. Nothing moves or reveals itself, yet his eyes narrow even further.

    "Megla. Your Th��lvik, she''s lived a long time, hasn''t she?"

    "Huh? Yes. Well over five thousand years. Maybe even ten thousand. Why do you ask?"

    Megla''s tone carries a hint of uneasiness in addition to curiosity.

    Jos�� slows to a stop. He turns to look behind the party, but still, nothing appears in his vision.

    "In this universe, there are creatures countless times more monstrous than the mightiest Terran, let alone me. I''ve even killed a few of them. Not solo, of course. I had help."

    He continues.

    "To you, living ten or twenty thousand years probably seems unfathomable. Yet I know there are things that will never die of old age. Some of them stagnate in their development, while others continue to grow for as long as they live."

    "I don''t know what''s following us. I can''t sense anything at all. That, alone, is enough to frighten me."

    Several tense seconds pass. The Kessu begin to tremble as their god-like protector squints and looks into the darkness with all his might.

    Yet still, nothing appears.

    "Curious. Very curious..."

    Megla lowers her voice. "Admiral. Are we in danger?"

    "I don''t know," He replies, his voice wavering slightly. "Possibly. The fact ''it'' hasn''t attacked us could indicate many things. It might fear us. After all, there''s nothing scarier than the unknown. It might only be curious. It may simply wish to observe us for a while before retracting its gaze."

    "...All I have to go on is a warning in the back of my head."

    Jos�� smiles as he turns to Megla.

    "When you''ve lived as long as me... when you''ve fought like hell to survive, as I have... you get a sense for these things. And sometimes, ''these things'' get a sense for me, too."

    "What does that mean?" Megla asks. "You''re starting to worry me."

    "Good. Stay on your toes. I have a feeling that, before long, I''m going to need to count on you. I''m only one man, Megla. I can''t be everywhere at once."

    The grave expression on Jos��''s face, mixed with his emotionless smile, makes the Kraktol writhe uncomfortably.

    "I won''t let you down, Admiral."

    Both of them stay silent for a moment before continuing.

    As they walk, in the darkness far behind them, a shadowy creature slowly melts away from one of the walls and slithers behind a large boulder.

    Despite being no larger than a toddler, its body gives off a malevolent aura.

    "...Terran. It said the word ''Terran.'' We heard it properly, yes? Not possible. The Terrans died. All of them. Not one left. Where could he come from?"

    The creature mutters to itself, its words instantly fading into a magical barrier surrounding its body.

    "This is our home. Ours! Not his. Stinky Terran. Filthy human. What does he think he''s doing here? Has he come to take our toys? He can''t. They''re ours. Ours! Worthless remnant creature. He should have stayed dead like the rest!"

    The shapeless creature expands in size, growing to match the height of a full-grown adult. It peeps out from behind the boulder, its pitch-black eyes piercing the darkness.

    "Kss. Too bright. Too much light. Hate the light... we hate it! We have to kill it. Kill! No light in our home. No, none at all... kss..."

    The creature glances to its side, where it spots a small, four-legged animal with thick fangs protruding from its maw. The animal meets the shadowy monster''s gaze and immediately freezes in place, looking at the shadow in horror.

    "You! We told the others to stay away! Do you think you''re better than us?! Impetuous worm! This is our home, not yours! Begone!"

    The shadow materializes a ghastly five-fingered ''hand''. With an angry waving motion, it gestures toward the small, carnivorous predator. An instant later, the animal''s eyes roll up into its head, and its body fades away, turning to ashes within the darkness.

    "Kss. They''re ours only. Our food! Kss. Stinky little fart-for-brains! That''s what you get for not listening. Kehehe..."

    The shadow continues following after its prey, slinking around within the darkness at a leisurely pace.

    "It''s been so long since we tasted a human''s soul..."

 Chapter 24: Kessu Survivors

    A deathly silence falls over Jos�� and his companions. The legendary, ancient Terran walks at the front, while Megla stays at the back. The shield protecting her body illuminates their rear, while Jos��''s glowing skin does the same for the path ahead. Between them, the two Kessu walk side by side, their tiny bodies protected by the Kraktol and Human shielding them.

    Jos�� and Megla both clutch their long-barreled, 50th Era rifles to their chests, but unlike before, Admiral Rodriguez appears substantially more alert and focused.

    "Still nothing," Jos�� mutters, his voice barely audible. "Not a single monster has attacked since we arrived. Before, I thought it might be a little worrying. Now I am almost certain something is watching us."

    Before Megla can ask what he means, he continues.

    "An intelligent creature of some sort. Undoubtedly an overlord of this domain. Baaru, do your people know of any... aberrants? Any unusual beasts that dwell within these caverns?"

    Baaru''s feet splash in a small puddle of water, created by a dripping stalactite from the ceiling above.

    "No, Great Precursor. I''m afraid not," She says, shaking her head. "Hmm, nothing specific, anyway. Although, Nyoor did tell me once that we should only enter the mountain if the village''s existence came under threat. He stressed it was extremely dangerous down here."

    The Admiral ponders her words for a few moments. "Something evil might lurk within the darkness, but not necessarily. Perhaps the reason nothing has attacked us is because you came along; a Kessu. Maybe there''s a... a guardian, down here. Some sort of protector for your people."

    "Really?" Baaru asks, her tone skeptical, yet optimistic. "Is that possible?"

    "It is," Jos�� answers. "But unlikely. If you did have some sort of divine protector, I imagine they might have shown themselves to you. No... it''s much more likely to be an intelligent monster, a creature waiting for us to step into a trap."

    Jos�� doesn''t speak any further, but his gaze turns inward. Speaking of which... Nyoor warned us to watch out for hidden traps down here, but I''ve yet to find even one. This entire journey could be best described as a leisurely stroll. I expected arrows to come flying out of the walls, or spike pits to open up before me, yet not one such event has occurred. Either Nyoor''s worries were unfounded, or something removed those dangers a long time ago.

    After a few minutes of contemplation, Jos�� transmits a telepathic message to the Bloodbearer, far above. [Umi. Are you still able to send and receive transmissions?]

    [Affirmative,] The Synthmind replies. [I cannot create detailed scans of the underground caverns, nor can I transport you back to the ship in the event of an emergency, but simple audio-visual transmissions and relative distance scanning are still within my range of capabilities.]

    [Good. How far are we now from the surviving Kessu''s bio-signs?]

    [I am unable to pinpoint their exact location, and I am unable to map the tunnels around you with even the lowest degree of accuracy. However, in terms of relative distance, assuming there are no barriers blocking your path, you are within 1.2 kilometers of their position.]

    The cave ahead of Jos�� curves slowly to the right. As they follow its natural path, he nods. [Alert me if you detect any... oddities. Any changes around us.]

    [Orders received, Admiral.]

    Jos�� falls silent for five more minutes. Neither he nor Megla says anything.

    However, despite the silence, Admiral Rodriguez''s mind moves at a hundred miles an hour.

    If we''re lucky, my little ''stunt'' from earlier might have scared off whatever''s stalking us.

    He glances behind himself at Megla''s glowing shield barrier.

    Assuming it has a Class 3 intelligence or higher, it might be able to understand the idea of an ''invincible barrier.'' At the least, it should exercise caution when dealing with prey of an unknown combat potential.

    Of course, that''s only one possibility. It may not know the meaning of fear. Whatever creature happens to be following us might only want us to reach a certain position before it attacks. Doubtless, somewhere advantageous to its chances of success.

    The Admiral''s eyes glow a little brighter than before as he fervently scrutinizes the path ahead, keeping an eye out for potential ambush locations.

    The rocks up there on that little outcropping... or that shadowy crevasse in the wall. Hmm. Still nothing. No signs of movement, no infrared signatures, not even a bio-pulse. All the signs indicate that whatever rules this domain does so with absolute control... so if it''s going to such great lengths not to attack us, it must have a reason.

    [Admiral,] Umi says. [You have arrived within 200 meters of the Kessu survivors.]

    As Jos�� walks, he begins to notice the faint, flickering movements of firelight in the distance. At the same time, his heavy bootsteps echo ahead, causing the Kessu around the corner to scramble around in a panic.

    "Something''s coming! Get ready!!"

    "No, no, not again! It hasn''t even been a day... sob..."

    "Grab your spear, get over there! We can''t go down without a fight!"

    The sounds of meowing and hissing from the Kessu causes Jos��''s brows to raise. After his universal translator converts their words to comprehensible speech, he holds up his hand and slows the party behind him.

    "Baaru. It''s your move, now."

    "Y-yes."

    The elderly Matriarch of her clan quickly walks past Jos�� while holding onto Lele. The two of them raise their voices.

    "Hold on! Don''t attack! It''s me, the Matriarch!"

    Her words echo around the corner. She and Lele both disappear, leaving Megla and Jos�� behind. After a few seconds, cries of joy spring up.

    "Matriarch?! Is it really you?"

    "Lele, you''re alive! Uwah, I thought you... never mind, I''m glad to see you!"

    After a few moments longer, Baaru''s voice cries out. "Ah! No, my child! My baby boy... he''s..."

    Alarmed, Jos�� and Megla quickly run around the corner, only to see Baaru hugging her son, Ruuki, against her chest.

    "No, no, my baby boy... he can''t be dead! Hic... he can''t be..."

    Baaru sobs in anguish as she presses the cold, lifeless head of her son against her chest. The child''s tiger-striped fur resembles a mixture of his father''s panda-colored pattern and his mother''s red fur. But what truly draws Jos��''s gaze is his still, lifeless body.

    Several Kessu jump in alarm when they spot the huge, furless creatures running toward them. Their souls nearly leave their bodies in fright, right up until Lele runs toward Jos��.

    "B-big Baldy! It''s terrible! My daddy, he''s...!!"

    Tears well up in the kitten''s eyes, but the moment Jos�� draws within visual distance, his ocular implants shift spectrums, allowing him a full 3D spectroscopic visual of the ''deceased.'' The unfamiliar Kessu jump out of the Terran''s path, hissing at him in fright. Megla slows to a stop and watches, puzzled, as Jos�� drops to his knees beside Ruuki.

    The Admiral''s gaze sweeps across Ruuki''s muscular body. Countless scratches, cuts, and gashes line his form. His fur, now covered in dried blood, lays matted against his skin. Not a hint of life breathes in the young male Kessu''s countenance.

    "He''s alive," Jos�� says, startling everyone, especially Baaru. "Not by much, but even if it''s only by a little, Terran medical science can perform miracles."

    Baaru raises her head to look at Jos��. Tears brim in her eyes. "Y-you... you can save him? You can save my baby boy?!"

    "Maybe," Jos�� says, his eyes containing a deep restlessness. "I''m a soldier, not a doctor. I know some battlefield medical practices, but that might be enough to sustain him until we return to the ship."

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    Suddenly, the Terran swivels his gaze toward the nearest Kessu, an old cat with drooping hairs under his eyes. "You! Tell me what happened in detail! How did he suffer these injuries?"

    The old cat shrinks back, terrified of the massive, furless giant. However, he still answers Jos��''s question.

    "Th-the Black G-Ghost... it attacked... it tried to take the girls... but Ruuki, he wouldn''t let the Ghost have its way. The Ghost punished him. It ripped him apart and l-left him to die... please forgive this worthless senior! If I hadn''t been so cowardly, the clan leader might not-"

    "I''ve heard enough," Jos�� says. The Admiral reaches into his pant pocket and pulls out a small black strap. He wraps it around his wrist, making Megla frown.

    A wristband?

    Unseen by Megla and all the Kessu, a holographic image suddenly springs to life above the wristband. Jos�� falls silent as his specially-tuned eyes allow him to see the image, a perfect representation of a medical storage area.

    While Jos��''s right arm hovers in front of his chest, his left hand dances around in the air, manipulating the unseen holographic image. Seeing the strange, furless biped making his fingers dance for seemingly no reason, a few of the Kessu behind him give their ''savior'' multiple strange looks.

    "What the heck is that creature doing?"

    "How should I know? Don''t be rude. He looks like he could kill us with a glance."

    One particularly fat Kessu boy speaks a little louder than the others. "Yeah. Wow, he''s huge. Have you ever seen a mutant that big?"

    The kitten''s skinnier friend gasps. "A mutant?!"

    "Haven''t you heard? There are rumors that some Kessu can increase their size and power by shedding their fur. If you factor in that weirdly ugly face, the big muscles... he''s probably a mutant."

    "Dang, Skippy. You''re so smart!"

    The two Kessu boys chat with one another in whispers, certain the Terran won''t notice them. However, even though Jos�� is actually able to hear every word, he ignores them. Their words matter far less to him than saving a dying kitty in urgent need of care.

    Eventually, Jos�� navigates through the holographic room and opens a virtual medicine cabinet. With a tap of his finger, a light springs into existence above his wrist, making Baaru jump back in fright.

    "W-what is that?!"

    The light becomes a series of lasers, all of which trace out the elaborate image of a palm-sized medical device. Within seconds, the lasers complete the act of ''replicating'' the device, and Jos�� snatches it out of midair.

    Kssss.

    A quiet hissing sound escapes the nozzle as Jose aims the device at Ruuki''s most dangerous, gaping, badly infected wounds. A white, foam-like substance sprays onto the Kessu''s fur, then seeps through his skin into his arteries.

    Countless nanites, each one a millionth the size of a human hair, burrow into the kitty cat''s body. They flood through his dying, broken blood vessels and get to work stitching him together.

    In less than a minute, Jos�� sprays dozens of bloody patches across Ruuki''s body. He falls back and slumps to his butt with a smile.

    "Whew. Baaru, you''re one lucky mama. If it had been anyone but me who showed up, or if I''d shown up thirty minutes later, you''d be saying goodbye to your son right now."

    Sparkles appear in Baaru''s eyes. "You... you mean... my little Ruuki won''t die?"

    "I''ll make sure he survives. I''ve infused eighteen billion nanites into his body, so, over the course of the next five hours, they will repair seventy percent of his injuries. Once we get him back to the Bloodbearer, Umi can do the rest of the work. She''s performed a few hundred bioscans of healthy Kessu bodies, after all. This won''t be a problem at all."

    Baaru breaks down crying tears of happiness. She jumps over Ruuki''s body to wrap her arms around Jos��''s shoulders. "Thank you, Great Precursor! Thank you from the bottom of my heart!"

    Jos�� doesn''t even flinch. He lightly pets the fur on Baaru''s back and smiles. "You''re welcome. Now, let''s focus, okay? Ruuki will live, but that''s only if we all successfully leave here alive."

    Finally, Jos�� takes a moment to take in his surroundings. He sits inside a large chamber tucked out of the way from the main path. Scattered around the chamber, two dozen male Kessu either sit, stand, or crouch and look at him, their gazes containing traces of fear and curiosity. A fire crackles in the middle of the room, providing the only source of illumination.

    The cavern''s ceiling looms fifty meters in the air, while menacing stalactites hang down and drip water onto the cave floor. Several shabbily-made ''beds'' sit at the back end of the cave, their materials mostly made from dirt or crumbled rocks.

    As the Admiral looks at the Kessu survivors, his eyes turn frosty.

    "Hm? Is this all of you? There aren''t even thirty of you here. And where are the women? Don''t tell me only you men survived your village''s attack."

    The expressions on the Kessu''s faces become eerily downcast. One elderly Kessu sinks to the floor, shaking with fear and rage.

    "F-forgive us... Matriarch... aaoouugh! It was awful... the Black Ghost came... it took the women away, one by one, every night!"

    Another Kessu boy nods, his expression calm and sober. "A hundred of us made it here originally, but several weeks passed. We didn''t have any food... any water. The Black Ghost came whenever we slept. It not only took the women, but it killed many men, too. We''re all that''s left."

    His words cast a hazy shadow upon everyone present. Megla narrows her eyes as she wonders what sort of despicable creature could do such a thing.

    While she ponders the Kessu''s reported events, Admiral Rodriguez turns to the boy. "A ghost, you say? Did anyone here see it?"

    The boy nods, but his movements appear hesitant. "We did, but... it was so hard to make out. It almost perfectly blended in with the darkness. It stretched out its claws and pulled whoever was closest into the shadows. One Kessu every night, without fail. Even... even my older sister."

    The boy lowers his head. A deep sadness appears in his eyes.

    "She screamed and begged for help... but I was so scared... I couldn''t even... I watched as the Ghost dragged her away, but my legs... my stupid legs wouldn''t work!"

    The boy tries to suppress his tears, but he, too, ends up sobbing his heart out. Another boy nearby tries to comfort him, but it''s clear he, too, has lost someone he loved.

    "Tragic," Megla growls. "What sort of vicious monster..."

    She turns to look at the Admiral. His brows furrow deeply, forming the shape of a ''v'' as his mind swirls with chaotic thoughts.

    "A shadow... takes people away... focuses on women... could it be?"

    The Admiral''s gaze turns as ugly as a stormy day at sea.

    "No. They''re all dead. It must be something else. It has to be."

    With the Kessu all focusing on Ruuki and Baaru, none of them notice the Admiral''s strange mutterings. However, Megla does. She doesn''t hear his exact words, but she pieces together a few clues based on his reaction.

    "Admiral? Do you know something about this ''Black Ghost?''"

    She crouches down beside Jos��, but he doesn''t reply for a full minute.

    "Mmm. These Kessu have been underground for a month or two. They''re probably hallucinating a predator of some sort. Maybe it''s a disease. Some sort of wandering sickness."

    "A what?" Megla asks, disbelief buried in her eyes. "I''m no medical expert, but that sounds like gobbledy-gook."

    "It probably is," Jos�� says, his expression solemn. "But... I don''t want it to be the alternative. We exterminated them. Ages ago. Can''t be them."

    He returns to his ramblings, while occasionally shaking his head. After a few more minutes, he glances at Megla.

    "Remember what I told you. You''re my First Officer. I''m depending on you, Megla. If something happens, you have to protect the Kessu."

    Megla meets the Admiral''s gaze. His oddly dark pupils cause an uneasiness to sprout in her heart. "What are you saying? Of course I will. Stop acting weird. I don''t like it when you''re... not yourself."

    "This isn''t about me anymore," Jos�� murmurs. "It''s about my duty. My sworn oath to Ramma. If I should die, then I hope you will not do anything terrible to the Kessu. I hope you''ll carry out my final wishes and... protect them."

    Jos�� keeps his voice low. With the Kessu now focused entirely on Baaru, Ruuki, and Lele, none of them hear his words.

    But Megla does.

    "Why are you acting like you might die?" Megla asks. "Something''s not right about you. You seem... scared."

    "Not scared," Jos�� says, smiling. "Determined. It doesn''t matter if I die. I''m only here by the grace of the gods. Maybe they kept me alive for a reason. Either way, I don''t intend to-"

    Before Jos�� can finish his sentence, Lele bounces over toward them. "Big Baldy! Are we ready to go, yet? It''s dark and wet down here! Let''s get daddy to the surface, okay?"

    The Admiral swallows his words. A huge, cheerful smile washes over his face as he turns to face the little girl. "Oh, yes, yes. That sounds like a good idea. How about you ride piggyback with Aunt Meggy this time? I don''t want you wandering off, now, alright?"

    Lele''s smile morphs into a look of disgust. "Eww, you want me to ride with scale-breath?"

    "Haha!" Jos�� laughs, his tone sounding unbelievably fake to Megla''s ears. "That''s right, squirt. You stay close to Aunt Meggy. Let''s hurry up and get out of here. We''ve got a long walk back to the surface."

    Megla''s expression sinks. "Admiral..."

    ...

    Thirty minutes pass.

    Jos�� and the Kessu work together to build a stretcher for Ruuki. Despite the nanites having closed his wounds, the muscular Kessu warrior lays motionless, his breathing weak and languid. Four Kessu boys each grab one end of the stretcher and lift him up.

    Likewise, after storing away his nanite-spraying tool, Jos�� synthesizes some light meals for all of the Kessu, each consisting of simple food pellets. While lacking in taste and satisfaction, the pellets explode inside of their stomachs and rapidly provide needed nutrients to keep them alive.

    The Admiral does a once-over of his party of thirty and nods. "We''ll leave now. Megla will guard the flank, and I''ll take point. Everyone else stay between us, and don''t stray."

    "Yes, Precursor," Baaru says.

    "As you command," The other Kessu add.

    With the party saddled up and ready to go, Jos�� hefts his gun and begins walking forward at a moderately brisk pace. The uneasiness in his heart makes him move a bit quicker than he did when traveling into the caves originally.

    Megla keeps an eye out behind them, as well as to the front. On her shoulders, a sullen Lele sits, annoyance etched into her pores.

    The kitten curls up her mouth as she daintily sniffs the top of Megla''s head, before pulling away and making a gagging noise. "Blech. This sucks."

    "Quiet," Megla whispers. "No more talking until we reach the surface."

    "Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

    In less than a minute, Jos�� arrives at the exit to the Kessu''s hidden alcove. Despite its seemingly large size, it''s still much smaller and more contained than the rest of the cavernous network.

    As soon as the Admiral steps outside, he comes to a stop, falls to one knee, and aims his gun forward.

    Megla''s heart leaps into her throat. "Admiral?!"

    A split-second of silence passes. Given her position at the rear of the party, she can''t see what he sees, but the Admiral''s words cause spiders to race up her spine.

    "It''s arrived. The Aberrant."

    Jos��, still kneeling on one knee, stares unblinkingly into the distance. Only half a kilometer ahead, a gigantic, unspeakably hideous monster, with blood-red eyes, a wolf-like head, and a look of famished hunger, sits crouched in the darkness. The beast stands forty meters tall, with blackened fur as dark as the night covering its head and body. Even with his enhanced senses, the Admiral can barely make out its form in the darkness.

    The monster snarls quietly, causing its monstrous tongue to sneak out of its pointed mouth. The vicious look on its face deepens sevenfold.

    But, most terrifyingly, behind it, hundreds of blood-red pinpricks of light also gaze at Jos�� from the shadows. All of them carry a deep, unyielding hunger as bottomless as the ocean''s depths.

    Jos�� smiles, but his face gives off more of a feeling of faint relief than one of happiness.

    "So it wasn''t them... Megla! Pull everyone back! Remember what I said!"

    Megla nods. "Yes, Admiral!"

    Without another word, she quickly beckons for the Kessu to retreat, leaving the Admiral alone to face off whatever threat he may have encountered.

    Based on his expression, the odds seem high he won''t walk away without suffering terrible injuries.

 Chapter 25: A Heros Return

    Jos�� Rodriguez, the last Precursor, stands alone before an army of creatures lurking within the darkness. However, the Terran doesn''t flinch or feel even a hint of fear. Not only does he have the full confidence of surviving an engagement with them, he even recognizes their identities.

    The largest creature, a forty-meter-tall quadruped, snarls at him with malicious intent. Its pitch-black fur and wolf-like face gives it the unmistakable identity of a Hellhound, a creature once thought to be extinct by all of Terrankind. Amidst its two ''primary'' eyes, forty-eight others open up around them, revealing fifty eyes in total, all fixated upon the Terran''s comparatively tiny figure.

    To the Hellhound''s right and left, countless smaller bipeds clutch primitive clubs, knives, and spears. Their moldy-green skin and leathery animal-fur clothing gives them similar appearances, but Jos�� clearly notes the distinction between the two-foot-tall and seven-foot-tall bipeds.

    Goblins and orcs.

    Much like the Hellhound, all of these creatures come from an era so ancient that Jos�� has never personally seen them in the flesh. However, thanks to battling them in combat simulations, as well as his years of dedicated study within Ramma''s Archives, he knows their appearances well.

    "Tch. You should have all gone extinct long ago," Jos�� growls. "Guess I''ll have to deliver the killing blow myself."

    One particularly brave goblin darts out from the crouching horde and charges at the Terran. Its hideous face and bulging eyes widen as it rushes at the towering human.

    "Death to all fleshbags!"

    Its wanton cry ignites the fires of hatred within the hearts of all the other creatures. Immediately after, the Hellhound, orcs, and goblins charge at Jos��, bloodlust in their eyes.

    It only takes the first goblin two seconds to reach its Terran adversary. Right as it jumps at him to stab his leg with a two-foot-long spear, Jos�� rears his leg back, then kicks the Goblin right in the head. The goblin''s skull instantly shatters under Jos��''s dominating might. It flies backward and crashes onto the ground, only for its body to end up trampled underfoot by the rushing horde.

    Seeing the charge of a thousand enemies, Jos�� maintains his cool. He takes aim with his rifle and squeezes the trigger, causing his gun to charge its attack for a split-second before firing.

    Thoom!

    A heavily ionized explosive munition fires into the crowd. It detonates to the right of the Hellhound, killing fifteen goblins and three orcs with a flash of green bio-devouring light. Their bodies instantly evaporate into nothingness, while still more enemies charge through the newly opened gap.

    Thoom! Thoom! Thoom!

    Over and over, Jos�� retreats a few steps while firing charged blasts into the approaching army. Each detonation wipes out all the biological life in its explosion radius, yet doesn''t affect the floors, the walls, or the metal parts of their clothing and weapons.

    Still, it doesn''t take long before Jos��''s enemies catch up to and pounce at him, aiming for all of his vital areas at the same time.

    Right before Jos�� perishes to the teeth and weapons of his blood-crazed foes...

    Foop!

    The Terran vanishes.

    Stunned, the horde of monsters trips over themselves trying to figure out where he went, only for a humming sound to rumble above their heads. They look upward and spot Jos�� with his feet gravitically attached to the ceiling, and his rifle aimed at the biggest, juiciest cluster of monsters.

    Thoom!

    Another blast of bio-devouring energy catapults from his gun''s barrel and flies into the horde, but this time, more than fifty monsters perish to its tyrannical might. Their bodies vanish from existence, as a force comparable to a black hole swallows them up, never to be seen again.

    By the time the monsters realize what''s happened, Jos�� has already prepared another shot.

    Thoom! Thoom!

    The monsters scramble away, some of them hurling javelins at Jos��''s position, while the goblins specifically leap onto the walls and scurry up the sides, using their unparalleled wall-crawling abilities to rush the lone human.

    "Stinking fleshbag!" An orc roars. "Fight me one on one like real man!"

    "Yeah! Stop run away, big coward!"

    As countless goblins swarm along the walls and ceiling toward''s Jos��''s position, the Terran pauses for a moment to think.

    If it were only me here, clearing out these monsters would simply be a matter of time. However, I''m not alone. I have to take Megla and the Kessu into consideration. Megla can''t possibly protect all of them by herself. I need to draw all of these monsters'' focus to me, and me alone. Otherwise... I don''t want to imagine what will happen.

    The Admiral''s eyes flicker toward the nearest half-dozen goblins skittering toward him. Right before they can reach him, Jos�� disappears.

    Foop!

    He teleports again, arriving at an empty spot on the wall not far away. His glowing body attracts the monsters'' attention as all of them easily pick him out of the darkness.

    Thoom! Thoom!

    Jos�� slaughters another sixty orcs and goblins, only to flinch in surprise as the Hellhound pounces at him from below!

    "Shit!"

    With his teleportation module temporarily on cooldown, the Admiral can''t dodge. He drops his gun, braces his legs and lunges out with both of his arms. The Hellhound snaps its jaws on him, intending to bite him off the wall, but it gets far more than it bargained for when the Admiral ''miraculously'' grabs one tooth on its upper and lower jaw, then uses his incredible strength to force the wolf''s mouth open.

    "Gaaahh?!"

    The Hellhound bites down with all its strength, but Jos�� grips the monster''s upper and lower teeth with his bare hands, all while the muscles on his back pop with tremendous effort.

    "Aaaargh! S-stupid... MUTT!"

    Suddenly, Jos�� kicks off the wall and launches himself into the Hellhound''s mouth, allowing its jaws to slam shut behind him. With his body illuminating the animal''s jowls, he grabs hold of a sinewy strand of skin on the roof of its mouth and squeezes with all his might. The animal starts opening and closing its mouth to try and chew the human, but Jos�� holds on like a leaf in a windstorm, one that somehow tenaciously clings to its chosen tree branch.

    The moment Jos��''s teleportation module cools off, he taps the black band on his wrist, synthesizes a poisonous smoke grenade, and hurls it into the Hellhound''s throat.

    "Here, breakfast!"

    Foop!

    Jos�� teleports out of the Hellhounds'' snapping jaws to the wall again, then jumps away, reaching out his arm to his fallen gun. The weapon leaps off the ground and flies into his clutches, only a second before he smashes feet-first into the head of a blankly-staring Orc.

    Splort!

    Jos�� crushes the orc''s skull and caves in its brains, using his body''s mass like a wrecking ball. In the blink of an eye, six orcs around him swing their swords and clubs at his figure, intending to bludgeon or slash him to death.

    Too bad, before their attacks connect, Jos�� drops to the ground, lands on his left palm, and throws himself toward the nearest orc feet-first, delivering a powerful kick to the monster''s head. The sound of air whiffing past his hair as the other five orcs miss gives him no comfort. They stagger and chase after him, but Jos�� nets a clean escape, even as goblins pounce at him from the ceiling and walls.

    BOOM!

    The poisonous gas grenade Jos�� fed the Hellhound only moments before erupts inside its gullet, making the giant monster screech in pain. It yips and coughs, expelling deadly toxins into the air around it. Dozens of orcs and goblins inadvertently inhale the nerve gas, perishing to its rank, foul odor. Within seconds, the Hellhound loses its balance and falls on its side, tucking in its legs and head to repeatedly vomit the most dreadful, disgusting liquids and solids ever seen in the seven galaxies.

    Not long after, it stops moving, forever.

    Jos�� continues jumping and teleporting away, killing monsters by the dozens. His expression turns complicated as he shoots a glance at the Hellhound.

    I''d love to clear out this horde with more poison gas, but it''s liable to reach Megla and the Kessu. I''ve unleashed too much already, as-is.

    Admiral Rodriguez swivels to face a cluster of goblins and orcs. However, when he presses his gun''s trigger, the only response he gets is a clicking sound.

    [Ammo depleted,] Umi says inside the Admiral''s mind. [All dilithium fuel has been expended, Admiral. Automatically switching the Adaptive Living Moldanium Combat Implement to its melee combat form.]

    The powerful rifle in Jos��''s grasp rapidly alters its appearance. Like magic, the barrel of the gun flattens out and becomes razor-thin and ultra sharp. The gun''s mass shifts toward its handle as it morphs into a one meter longsword, but a highly advanced version capable of slicing through steel with ease.

    [Transformation complete,] The synthmind says. [Secondary mode online. The long-range Biological Eraser Cannon has successfully shifted into its close-combat nanoblade form.]

    Jos��''s gaze darkens. "Thanks, Umi. Close combat against so many enemies... it''s dangerous, but I don''t have a choice."

    He glances behind himself, at the entrance to the Kessu''s side-tunnel. Inside, not even 300 meters away, Megla stands protectively in front of the tiny kitty cats, her weapon trained on the entrance and ready for action.

    The Admiral returns his gaze to the monsters currently charging at him.

    Megla isn''t familiar with the Long Range Biological Eraser Cannon. The LORBEC is more than capable of instantly killing me. If she shoots at an enemy when I''m close by, she might accidentally catch me in the cross-fire. That''s certainly not the way I want to go out... not via friendly fire.

    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    In that case... I''ll just have to ensure no monsters get past me.

    As the Orcs charge the Admiral, something inexplicable happens. For the first time since their struggle began, the human lunges forward, meeting them head-on in combat.

    A flash of light ignites in the air as the Terran''s nanoblade hums with energy. The moment Jos�� swings it in any direction, kinetic energy builds up on its edge, tripling its sharpness. He cuts through three of his enemies before they can react, and his body becomes a blur as he accelerates beyond what should be any human''s biological limits.

    Inside Jos��''s head, Umi speaks again. [Orion Corps Musculature Enhancements have initiated active combat mode. Cerebral computation speed increased by 714%. Movement speed increased by 447%. Strength increased by 183%. Reaction time requirements decreased by 92%. Time remaining before active combat enhancement mode must disengage for user''s safety: Fourteen minutes, fifty-eight seconds.]

    "Come on, you filthy monsters!!" Jos�� roars. "My people killed yours long before we reached the peak of martial combat! Now, you''re nothing more than BUGS to me!"

    His intimidating shout succeeds in startling the monsters around him, but their alarm turns to rage shortly after. As the Admiral''s blade dances around, his body becomes faster and faster, allowing him to rapidly adapt to the change in his combat capabilities.

    For the next five minutes, Admiral Rodriguez rampages unhindered. No matter who comes up against him, their bodies ends up diced into mincemeat. The goblins never pose a threat to him, and neither do the orcs.

    Soon, the ''thousands'' of monsters arrayed against the Admiral slow to a trickle. The several hundred that remain keep their distance and spread out, choosing to pelt him with arrows and javelins. The Admiral easily bats their slow, awkward, clumsy attacks out of the air, chopping apart the primitive projectiles with ease.

    Eventually, he slows to a stop, taking two precious seconds to scan the battlefield.

    Jos��''s vision sweeps in every direction. He picks out the goblins and orcs that remain, but none of them have made it past his bladestorm of destruction even once. Megla and the Kessu remain unharmed.

    "That''s it?"

    The Admiral''s hearts both beat at tremendous speeds. With the adrenaline pouring through his body thanks to the Orion Corps combat biomod, it takes all his effort to slow down his battle fury and think about what the hell is happening.

    "Where is it? These can''t be all of the monsters lurking down here. There should be a hyper-intelligent enemy somewhere. An aberrant. Hellhounds, goblins, and orcs aren''t anything special."

    He vocalizes his thoughts as a whisper, so his voice doesn''t travel far. Even so, something stirs in the darkness behind Jos��, above the entrance to Megla and the Kessu.

    A shadowy figure slowly shifts its position, gazing at Jos�� with pitch-black eyes.

    His hearts still beating furiously, the Admiral charges at another pair of orcs and begins cutting them down like meat in a blender. They scream in terror and piss themselves just before they die, but neither of the duo mounts even the weakest resistance to his superior battle prowess.

    At that moment, the shadowy figure attacks.

    It grips a heavy, steel rod, one colored pitch-black, just like its body. With the Admiral distracted by his continued killing frenzy, the shadow coils strength into its arm... and hurls the rod like a bullet!

    Whiff!

    In an impossibly speedy and precise manner, the rod sails straight toward Jos��''s back. The Admiral only gets a split second to react, but with no monsters behind him, he doesn''t anticipate the sudden attack from his flank.

    RIIIIP!!

    The iron rod tears through Jos��''s skin and rips out one of his hearts while penetrating every defense in its path. The vicious implement passes through him like a bullet through wet paper and stabs halfway into the hardened rocky ground in front of his feet. Stunned and startled, the Admiral gasps in surprise and whirls to face his adversary. Thanks to the pain suppression biomod he installed after his surgery, Jos�� barely notices his missing vital organ.

    "Shit! Who''s there?!"

    The Admiral frantically scans the darkness behind him. His eyes sweep across the spot where the shadow rested only a moment before, but even with his enhanced senses, he doesn''t spot anything out of the ordinary.

    A feminine voice speaks from the shadows, its origin point seemingly coming from every direction at once.

    "Hehehe... silly human. Have you not figured out who I am, yet? Or, rather... what I am?"

    Jos��''s eyes dart to his left, toward a corner of the room where the wall and ceiling meet one another. He squints with all his might, but still doesn''t notice anything out of the ordinary.

    A shiver runs down the Terran''s back.

    It can''t be. Seeing goblins, orcs, and a Hellhound was bad enough... but... surely, I must be wrong.

    "You..." The Admiral growls. "You''re... a shadow-walker?"

    "Hah hah hah... that''s quite the insult, little human."

    A faint movement directly overhead startles Jos��. He looks up just in time to see the shadows move slightly, before another metal rod fires at him, this time aiming for his head!

    Swish!

    The Admiral moves with lightning reflexes. He smashes the flat of his sword against the rod, making it miss his head, but it still rips through his left shoulder. The Terran completely ignores the injury, even as his nanite-imbued body gets to work repairing both of his wounds. His rapidly-draining blood slows to a crawl, and new skin begins grafting between the injuries.

    "Not shadow walkers," Jos�� snarls. "You... you''re a Shade! A god-damned SHADE!"

    "Did you finally figure it out?" The female asks. "Wow, what a smart little fleshbag. I''ll give you... two points. Haha. I have to say, your body looks quite delectable. Big muscles, a gaze that could make a woman swoon... it''s been a while since I got to wriggle my tongue around inside a male human''s brain. Mmm. I''m shivering just imagining it."

    Another flicker of movement startles Jos��. He readies himself for an attack from the back, but instead, all he sees is a shadow shifting slightly on the wall. A vaguely feminine figure appears, her body wreathed in so much darkness he can barely make her out.

    "So you are a Shade!" Jos�� growls. "Haha. It all makes sense now. You must have been the one controlling the monsters. Tch. You''re one lucky little shadow-blob. After we humans wiped your species off the galactic map, we never knew one of you had survived. If we had, you''d have perished long ago."

    Jos�� holds up his sword in a defensive posture while keeping both eyes locked on the shifting mass of shadow. The Shade''s face shifts to create a gigantic, horrifying smile.

    "Oh, you adorable little man. I love it when men toy with me and treat me like a slut. Let''s spar a little longer. My name is Voluptuous. What''s yours?"

    "Why even ask?" Jos�� asks. "Don''t pretend like you don''t know. You''ve been watching me since I arrived."

    "Clever boy."

    The Shade stretches out a hand and presses it against her mouth coyly.

    "That''s right, Jos�� Rodriguez, Admiral of the starship ''Bloodbearer.'' I know quite a bit about you. I''m always fascinated by big, strong men. Tell me, handsome, what''s it like being the last member of a dead species?"

    "You should know," Jos�� taunts. However, even as he utters those words, another sense of danger tingles in the back of his mind. "You''ve been slithering down here, all alone, for a hundred million years."

    Voluptuous melts into the wall, then reappears directly above Jos��, allowing her to get a closer look at him.

    "Oh, yes, darling. You have me pegged well. I haven''t tasted man-meat in sooo long. Come now, why not leave that ugly crocodile and the furballs behind? If you come willingly, I promise not to bite. I don''t want to harm a hair on that perfectly chiseled face of yours, not until we''ve had our taste of each other. Mmm, that look you''re giving me right now is making my feminine parts tingle, ahaha!"

    An odd smile appears on Jos��''s face. "Are you trying to seduce me? Pitiful. Maybe if I were my old pal, Nicky-boy, that might work. Too bad, I''m not. No demoness will ever be capable of tugging on my heartstrings."

    "Is that so? I doubt that, lover," Voluptuous replies. "No man can resist the allure of a beautiful woman, especially when he''s been alone for so long."

    "It hasn''t been long at all," Jos�� replies. "I got stuck in stasis for the last hundred million years. Strange, though. You should know that, unless your knowledge of me comes only from what you''ve observed in these tunnels."

    The Admiral''s words make Voluptuous hesitate, but only for a moment.

    "Oh, I see! Haha. Indeed, I assumed you were awake the whole time, suffering and wallowing in your loneliness. Ah, but still... to awaken to a dead galaxy, one where all the others of your kind have long since ceased to exist... that must have been quite the tragedy."

    The Admiral''s expression darkens. He squeezes his nanoblade''s hilt a little tighter. "...You should know about that sort of loneliness too, ''Voluptuous.'' Unless, of course... you aren''t alone."

    Voluptuous falls silent. Her eyes narrow as she gazes at the human.

    "...Tsk. Too bad! I couldn''t help myself. I let too many hints slip. Mmm, darling, your tongue truly is a weapon of legends! That''s right... I''m not alone. But... are you ready to wet yourself in fear... little ''Jojo''?"

    As Voluptuous finishes speaking, the entire room begins to shift. Jos��''s final remaining heart jumps in alarm as ten, twenty, fifty, even a hundred shadowy balls begin congealing on the ceiling and walls. Countless blobs of darkness spread out and take shape, as numerous female voices begin speaking.

    "Ehehe! He''s so scared! Look at that stupid expression of his! I''m gonna cut him to pieces, nyehehehe!"

    "Filthy human. You have only survived this long because of our curiosity."

    "This human is quite strong. Watch out for his tricks."

    Female voices of all tones and shapes begin speaking, draining the blood from Jos��''s face. Every second, countless other Shades begin materializing, making their numbers skyrocket to one hundred, three hundred, even one thousand!

    "What?!" Jos�� gasps. "So... so many?! How is this possible! I might expect one or two of you to survive... but this many?! It''s imposs-"

    The words catch in Jos��''s throat as a truly horrifying realization comes to his mind.

    "No... no... it can''t be. Shades aren''t like other demons. You... you can''t reproduce! The only way Shades can multiply is if... if..."

    Jos��''s eyes dart frantically around the room. He clenches his teeth together, then shouts at the top of his lungs.

    "Yama! Emperor of Shadows! Where are you?! Show yourself!"

    The human''s words silence all of the females present. After a moment, a few of them begin to giggle.

    "Hehehe... well, since you asked for it, little human..."

    The Shades melt back into the walls and ceiling, becoming invisible even to Jos��''s advanced sensory and imaging technology.

    However, one blob of darkness, far larger and more intimidating than the others, rises up from the ground a hundred feet from Jos��. It rapidly congeals into a ten-meter-tall ghostly black creature, one that hovers in the air without any legs.

    "Heh heh heh. Hello, Jos�� Rodriguez," The Shade says, its masculine voice standing out from all of the female Shades from before. "You called. We came. Aren''t we polite? We never turn down an invitation to a party."

    Jos�� takes a step back. "You... you can''t be alive. The ancient Terran records... they clearly noted your death date, and the method used! They trapped you, bombarded you with solar radiation-"

    "Mmm, yes, we remember that day well..." Yama says, his voice as cold as ice. "Pain. Suffering. Agony. If the humans had realized they only captured half of this humble emperor''s body... if they knew we could split our essence into pieces, we might have perished forever. Too bad! We outfoxed the humans, but still... we suffered a terrible loss."

    Yama''s voice becomes even icier than before. His size increases as rage appears in his shadowy eyes.

    "Filthy humans. You... you killed my women! All of them! Trapped them... tortured them... Greed, Envy, even Vicious! You forced this poor, forsaken Emperor to start from scratch... to build up our harem once again! It took us ages... countless years to reacquire women of suitable... purity."

    Jos��''s lips curl into a grimace. "I see. That''s why... those female Kessu... you bastard! You stole them... turned them into your wretched little toys!"

    "We did," Yama answers, his voice emotionless. "Those Kessu were hardly capable of meeting our standards... but we must thank you, Admiral Rodriguez. You''ve delivered us two delicious, sumptuous little morsels... hehe. Not only a strong warrior who will resist our advances to the last breath, but a meek, timid kitten who won''t fight back at all. We must compliment you on your respectfulness towards authority. Now, we have two high-quality females to ravish until the ends of time! Heh heh heh!"

    Jos��''s heart skips a beat.

    Megla... and Lele?! No! This filthy, shadow bastard!

    "You won''t touch them!" Jos�� roars. "I don''t care how many of you there are! I''m a human unlike any you''ve ever faced! I''ll rip you to shreds, Devil!"

    Jos��''s skin brightens two times more luminously than before, transforming him into a light within the darkness. Yama immediately shrinks back, hiding within the shadows.

    "Tch. You know our weakness. So what? Your little glowy-skin tricks won''t kill this king! The most you can do is burn us a little! Stupid human! You''re only delaying the inevitable!"

    Jos��''s teeth gnash together as a rage he hasn''t felt in years begins to boil his blood.

    "Don''t tempt me, demon! Go back to the shadows, or I''ll make you face annihilation!"

    Inside Jos��''s head, Umi speaks again. [Admiral. The time remaining before the active combat enhancement mode must disengage for your safety is only seven minutes, fifty-nine seconds.]

    This alarm causes the Admiral''s eyes to turn bloodshot.

    Yama is trying to delay me! I won''t let him off!

    The Emperor of Shadows levitates backward. His body fades into the darkness as he chuckles ominously.

    "Do not assume we know nothing of your methods, Terran. We have picked off countless human prisoners in the eras since our defeat. We know the advanced weaponry you possess. Try your hardest, but you will never defeat us. You will fall here. Your corpse will become our food, and your soul our sustenance... but your women will become our playthings! Heh heh heh!"

    A vicious smile spreads across Jos��''s face. He nods slowly, while glancing around the room at all the possible positions the Shades could be hiding.

    "Haha. Is that so? Is that SO?! Looks like you''ve put me in quite the dire position! Well, then... it seems I''ll have to surprise you, your highness! This Terran... IS MORE THAN YOU CAN HANDLE!"

    ...

    The Admiral closes his eyes.

    After a few moments, a humming sound emits from his chest, and a faint blue light begins to cover his skin, one that vaguely resembles Megla''s Survival Suit. However, unlike hers, this ''armor'' causes Yama''s soul to tremble.

    The Emperor of Shadows stares at the human. His arrogant grin fades away, and a faint feeling of fear appears in his eyes.

    Hm? That''s... this sensation... it reminds us of the ancient legend... the Hero! Could it be?! Could this human actually be a reincarnation of the Hero?!

    Alarmed, Yama transmits an order to his harem.

    [Females! Do not hold back! This male is no ordinary human! He''s a Hero! A Hero, we said! Kill him at all costs!]

    Their reply comes in the form of countless shadows emerging from the walls, all of them clutching iron rods.

    [Yes, Great Emperor! We will slaughter the human where he stands!]

 Chapter 26: Titanfall

    Several minutes earlier.

    Soren Mudrose, Chief Strategic Officer and third in command after Jos�� and Megla, slowly paces down the halls of the UTC Bloodbearer. In her claws rests a datapad with a screen visually linked to Admiral Rodriguez''s cerebral cortex. This useful tool allows her to see through the Admiral''s eyes and hear what he hears so she can survey the situation from above.

    As Soren watches the Admiral and her sister trudge through the underground passages, she slowly walks the Bloodbearer''s halls. Several Kessu trot past her and wave politely or keep their distance, but none of them bother her, given how busy she appears.

    On Soren''s datapad, the Admiral finally emerges into the Kessu''s hiding hole, making her sigh in relief. As Jos�� starts assisting the injured Kessu, Soren walks toward a door, her eyes still fixated on the datapad.

    Dong!

    The Kraktol''s long, crocodilian snout, bonks into the door, startling her. Soren jumps back in surprise, only to gaze at the unopened door with a look of curiosity.

    "...Huh? Oh. Wrong room. I wasn''t paying attention."

    Soren glances to the left at a different door some 100 feet further down the corridor, one with a sign above that says ''Shuttle Maintenance Facility.''

    Shaking her head, Soren sighs. "Need to watch where I''m going. Hm? Why didn''t this one open, though? I thought the Admiral fixed every rusted door on the ship."

    Slowly, Soren raises her eyes to the door she just ran into. Above it, a clearly marked label reads: Restricted: Psionics.

    "Err, Umi?" Soren says. "Why can''t I enter here? Did the Admiral not repair its entry mechanisms?"

    From above, the synthmind speaks. "Officer Soren Mudrose. Your clearance level is insufficient to enter any facilities of Gold Level and above. As an Interim Officer, you must obtain special permission from the Admiral or myself to enter the Psionics Laboratory."

    "Oh?"

    Soren blinks in surprise.

    "I didn''t even know there were any restricted areas on the Bloodbearer. Can I ask what''s inside?"

    Umi beeps in response. "Affirmative."

    After a few seconds of waiting, Soren''s expression falls. "No, I mean, can you tell me what''s inside this facility?"

    "Negative. You do not have the proper credentials to enter the Psionics Laboratory."

    "Can''t you give me a hint?"

    "Negative. Only the Admiral can grant access to the Psionics Laboratory."

    "But, you just said that you could- sigh... never mind."

    Soren shakes her head and resumes course for the shuttle maintenance bay. As she walks, she mutters something under her breath about annoying smartass synthminds.

    The red-scaled Kraktol''s eyes drop to her datapad once again. As she enters the Shuttle Maintenance Facility, where the slowly incrementing repairs on the Bloodbearer''s countless broken shuttles progress ever so slowly, the scene from the Admiral''s viewpoint changes. Thanks to his advanced iris imaging capabilities, he spots countless monsters lurking in the darkness ahead, making Soren''s heart jump out of her chest.

    "What! An ambush?!"

    The Kraktol stops dead in her tracks. She gazes at the datapad in shock as the Admiral launches into a ferocious round of combat. His vision becomes a blur, making the screen a jumble of useless images.

    "Umi! Is the Admiral okay? What''s going on down there?!"

    "Admiral Rodriguez has initiated combat with several unknown biological entities," Umi responds.

    The synthmind relays the situation to the chief strategic officer. Given how dizzying the Admiral''s speed is, Soren can''t even follow what''s happening via the datapad, so Umi''s condensed version is all she has to go on.

    Several minutes pass.

    Inside the Shuttle Maintenance Facility, countless synthetic holo-personnel work together to repair a combat shuttle, one far more advanced than the Third Era Interceptor Jos�� stole from the Kraktol months before. Along with the holo-crew, a small number of relatively intelligent Kessu pitch in a little bit, trying to understand the craft''s more complex inner workings. Despite many of their primitive origins, these Kessu still seem to have a light grasp on interstellar mechanics, though their learning speed proves slow and unwieldy.

    However, Soren pays them no attention. She continues to stand in the doorway, her eyes wide and a look of shock on her face. The datapad finally stops its frantic gyrating as Jos�� comes to a stop, his gaze locked on the darkness around him.

    Suddenly, Umi blares a loud and violent alarm overhead!

    "Warning. Demonic presences detected on planet Tarus II. All crew to battle stations. Ramma''s Prime Directive: Eliminate all heretics and threats to humanity. The Demon Emperor of Shadows, Yama, has been located. This is not a drill. Admiral Rodriguez''s life is in imminent peril."

    The entire battleship changes its interior colors as countless warning lights activate, bathing every Kessu, synthetic officer, and Soren in an eerie blood-red glow.

    "Spare combat personnel: Insufficient. Demon Emperors must be eliminated at all costs. Officer Soren Mudrose: Report to Planetary Outfitting immediately. Specialized combat equipment is required to combat the unique demonic life-forms known as Shades."

    Soren''s heart races. "Demon Emperor? What''s going on? I don''t understand! Is the Admiral in danger?!"

    "Affirmative," Umi beeps. "Admiral Rodriguez is incapable of killing a Demon Emperor on his own. In addition, he is at extreme risk of losing his life due to a vast quantity of demonic sub-entities. This ship must preserve the last Terran''s existence at all costs. Report to Planetary Outfitting. This order is mandatory. You must comply."

    Without giving Soren a chance to reply, a teleportation beam suddenly grabs hold of the Tactical Officer. Two seconds later, her body transmits from one end of the ship to the other, placing her smack in the middle of a vast weapon and armor storage area.

    "Huh?"

    Soren, having never used a transporter before, suddenly feels sick to her stomach. It takes her several seconds to deal with the nausea that wracks her body, but she manages to stagger against a wall and steady her mind.

    "Ohh, kyargh... my head hurts. U-Umi... the Admiral is in danger, right? What should I do? Can I somehow save him on my own?"

    "Probability: Uncertain," Umi beeps. "However, this synthmind must preserve the last Terran''s existence at all costs. Your compliance is irrelevant. Immediately equip yourself with the following devices: Mark II Titan Battlesuit. High Intensity Ray Bombardment Tube. Deployable Photon Shield. Short Range Noxious Dispersion Device..."

    Soren''s mind focuses as she listens to Umi''s orders. One by one, she grabs the items the synthmind points out, her nerves causing her to shakily drop some of the devices before picking them back up again.

    "...J-Type Ionic Field. Outfit yourself with these devices immediately. Once you have finished, travel to corridor B-3 and enter the Emergency Launch Tube. I will send you to the planet below. Move expediently, as saving the Admiral''s life will depend on your actions."

    Soren doesn''t hesitate. She quickly steps inside a gigantic, twenty-foot-tall, heavily-armored battlesuit. As she climbs into its wide-open chassis, the suit morphs to her body shape and wraps around her, even going so far as to reshape itself to her long, pointy snout and tail.

    Suffocating!

    Soren holds her breath as countless layers of 50th Era metal engulf her. Eventually, the suit comes online and it gravitically seizes the devices she picked out a minute before, yanking them to its body, where they adhere via magnetism.

    "Officer Soren Mudrose, proceed to the designated launch bay at once. Do not delay. The Admiral has already begun initiating combat with the demonic life forms. His brainwaves have become erratic, and his life signs are already in decline. Time is of the essence."

    Soren, now more than twenty feet tall, thrice her normal height, stumbles out of the Planetary Outfitting bay. Her gigantic, metallic feet smash against the deckplates with thunderous force, making several nearby Kessu hiss and flee in fright.

    Slowly, Soren begins stomping in the indicated direction, her movements progressively becoming more adept.

    "Can''t you transport me to the planet from here?"

    "Negative. The Mark II Titan Battlesuit possesses several advanced technologies which would interfere with my transportation locks. Due to its highly radioactive core, teleportation would have a high probability of detonating the suit with the explosion threshold of a thermonuclear warhead. Continue to the launch bay as directed."

    "I''m going, I''m going."

    Soren stomps down the hallways and travels to a room she''s never entered before. Among the endless number of facilities aboard the Bloodbearer, this one exists on the periphery, the underside of the ship.

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    When she enters the Launch Bay, she spots a dozen gigantic vacuum tubes, each one twenty-feet-tall, open, ready, and waiting. The tubes stand vertically, and rest atop what appears to be a gigantic cannon aimed outside of the ship at the planet below. Several synthetic officers materialize inside the room and beckon toward the tube.

    "Enter immediately," One of the holo-personnel says. "The Admiral''s vital signs continue to grow more erratic. His battle is intensifying as we speak."

    Soren doesn''t answer. She merely nods while stomping toward the nearest tube. She steps inside the tube and holds her breath as its door swiftly closes.

    A terrible sense of claustrophobia seizes Soren''s mind as the darkness engulfs her. Inside the Titan Battlesuit, a monitor relays to her the Admiral''s situation, detailing his failing vital signs. Seeing her friend slowly losing his life, Soren swallows her complaints.

    "Attention, all personnel: Tactical Officer Soren Mudrose is preparing for launch. Acting Fourth Officer Nyoor will stay in command of the ship until her return."

    The tube whirrs to life, and an abrupt jolting sensation startles Soren as Umi rapidly calculates the launch vectors needed to reach her target destination.

    "Launch coordinates calculated. Firing in three... two... one..."

    THOOMPH!

    Soren shrieks involuntarily as the ship launches her out of the firing tube toward the planet below.

    "Ahhhh!! Th��lvik protect meeee!!"

    Umi''s voice, on the other hand, is as calm as ever.

    "Titan Battlesuit inbound."

    .......................................

    Somewhere underground, deep within Tarus II''s depths.

    Emperor Yama gazes at the seemingly insignificant Terran from the shadows. His eyes quiver as the being which formerly resembled an ant in his eyes quickly becomes much more fearsome, emitting a soul-shaking pressure without moving a muscle! The human''s glowing body slowly shifts its color from white to a light sky-blue, while a faint, shimmering force-field of cyan coats his skin from head to toe.

    What power is this? Yama ponders. It feels like magic... it reminds us of the ancient Heroes, the humans who once stomped demonkind underfoot! But... the Heroes disappeared long ago! They''ve not been seen for countless eras! How could this human be one?!

    Yama snaps his head to the side. Unseen by Jos��, but very visible to Yama, innumerable ''eyes'' peep out of the walls, gazing at the human with curious and malicious intent. Yama''s ''harem,'' his army of female Shades, lurks within the smallest shadows of the cave walls.

    "What are you waiting for?!" Yama bellows. "Kill the human, then snatch his women! We want them alive and struggling!"

    [Yes, Master!]

    The Shades answer in unison, their replies transmitted telepathically through their mental link to Yama. Unable to disobey his commands, the swarm of Shades emerges from the walls, their heavy iron rods held at the ready.

    Whiff whiff whiff!!

    A hundred missiles fly toward Jos�� from every angle, their trajectories aimed at all of his vital organs. Even with his incredible speed, the human hasn''t a chance at dodging his imminent death.

    However, at that moment, the Admiral''s eyes rapidly flick around, as if targeting the iron bars mid-flight.

    His palm jerks up.

    Whoomph!

    The iron rods freeze mere inches from his body!

    As if stuck inside an invisible wall, the steel projectiles hover in midair and tremble for a split-second before falling and clattering to the ground.

    Yama''s expression turns to one of shock.

    The human... he... he used telekinesis! That''s magic! Only a Hero could use such a powerful ability!

    Jos�� lunges forward. He jumps toward the wall where the Shades continue to hover and stare, their eyes fixed on him in shock. Before they can react, Jos�� rushes toward a small cluster of six Shades and stretches out his hand.

    "AaaaRRGGHHH!!"

    The females scream in unison. Their bodies collapse as a formless pressure grabs hold of them from all angles and forcibly rips them out of the shadows. Unable to fight back, they fly toward the human and become engulfed in the bright light radiating from his skin. Jos�� squeezes his hand and crushes the life out of all six Shades, killing them before they can beg for mercy.

    The moment their life forces disappear, Yama''s fear transforms into rage. "NOO! Slaughterer, Madness, Hatred! All dead! Wretched FLESHBAG! How DARE you kill our women!"

    All of the Shades disperse, now realizing the human has a method for killing them. They quickly retreat to put distance between themselves and the Terran, but not one of them gives up the fight. A terrifying battle unfolds as Yama''s harem begins unleashing hell on Jos��, summoning the metal rods to pelt him from afar, while Yama himself also takes action.

    The Shadow Emperor conjures magic from his vast reserves. He fires explosive shadow-balls at Jos��, detonating them with chaotic mana not far from the Terran''s body. Jos��''s telekinetic abilities allow him to tank the damage, so Yama follows-up by binding Jos��''s feet in place with shadow manipulation. Even with his skin glowing radiantly, the Terran still possesses a small amount of darkness right where his feet meet the floor.

    However, Yama''s shadow binding only momentarily stops Jos��''s movement. The Terran turns his head to gaze at the Shadow Devil.

    Screeeeee!!

    A terrifying, high-pitched noise erupts inside Yama''s mind, stunning him and making him lose his focus. The Emperor of Shadows howls in pain and falls out of his dark enclave. He hits the floor and explodes into a soot-like cloud before reforming into the body of a man equal in stature to Admiral Rodriguez.

    "Hahaha! We see now, human!" Yama roars. "Do you think you can kill us simply because you''re a Hero?! We''ve survived Joan of Arc, and King Arthur... and we will certainly survive you!"

    Jos�� yanks three more Shades out of the walls. He crushes them to dust, then turns and glowers at the Emperor of Shadows. "I''m not a ''Hero.'' I''m one of Ramma''s Chosen, you pathetic false Emperor. You''ll die here today, just like all the other heretics I''ve killed."

    "Liar! We see through your deceptions, Hero!"

    The Admiral snorts. "Believe whatever you want."

    .......................................

    Minutes before.

    Jos��, having made up his mind to wipe out all of these demons, no matter the cost, sighs within the depths of his heart.

    He closes his eyes and transmits a command to his inner biomods.

    [Umi. Activate the Psionic Enhancer. Limit its power to the first level.]

    [Orders acknowledged, Admiral Rodriguez. Special-type biomod ''Psionic Enhancer'' set to Level One. Psionic limitations removed. Safety restrictions are still in effect.]

    As the Admiral opens his eyes, a shimmering sensation of power wraps around his body, transforming into a psionic barrier similar in nature to Megla''s Survival Suit.

    [Admiral,] Umi says, her tone carrying no emotion. [Proceed with caution. Ramma''s Chosen are not supposed to use the power of the Psions wantonly. Even though humanity has gone extinct, revealing this trump card could-]

    [I''m aware.]

    Jos��''s eyes flick toward the Shades in the room as all of them rear their arms back and prepare to hurl their metal rods at him.

    [Humanity is dead. It doesn''t matter anymore if the current Milky Way inhabitants learn about my abilities. They aren''t technologically advanced enough to copy my powers.]

    [Besides,] He adds, [my primary purpose is to slaughter heretics. With a Demon Emperor in front of me... how can I hold back?!]

    A storm of iron rods flies at Jos��. Before they can strike the Admiral, his eyes flash with psionic might.

    Freeze!

    Instantly, the rods halt their momentum mid-flight. They hover inches away from his body, then fall to the ground.

    The Admiral''s vision changes. Rather than merely relying on his iris modules, he draws out the psionic power within his brain to locate the the soul energy of the Shades surrounding him. An army of demons becomes visible, dying the darkness in a flood of bright-green ''blips'', each shimmering globe representing one of humanity''s heretical enemies.

    Whoosh!

    Jos�� launches forward from a standstill, his already incredible movement augmented by the power of the Psions, the ancient Volgrim known for their awe-inspiring telekinetic powers!

    His hand darts forward, and he grabs at the air.

    "AaaaRRGGHHH!!"

    Six Shades fall into the Terran''s clutches. He crushes them into pulp while bombarding them with his skin''s bioluminescence.

    Yama howls in rage from one of the distant walls, his globule of light appearing even brighter than the other Shades surrounding him. "NOO! Slaughterer, Madness, Hatred, All dead! Wretched FLESHBAG! How DARE you kill our women?!"

    Unaffected by the Shadow Emperor''s rage, Jos�� continues his destructive tour unabated. He flits from side to side, dodging or deflecting countless lethal attacks with split-second reaction times. Not only the mysterious iron rods, but shadow bombs, rocks ripped from the ceiling, and even shadow bindings fail to meet their mark.

    Jos�� smashes through any barrier blocking in his path. He slaughters three dozen Shades within minutes, each one only making Yama more violent and rage-crazed than the ones before.

    "Hahaha! We see now, human!" Yama roars. "Do you think you can kill us simply because you''re a Hero?! We''ve survived Joan of Arc, and King Arthur... and we will certainly survive you!"

    Admiral Rodriguez ducks a sweeping shadow-scythe attack launched by one desperate Shade, only moments before crushing her with his mind. He glances back at Yama cooly.

    "I''m not a ''Hero.'' I''m one of Ramma''s Chosen, you pathetic false Emperor. You''ll die here today, just like all the other heretics I''ve killed."

    Unnoticed by Yama or the other Shades, a moment of searing agony wracks Jos��''s brain, causing his right eye to twitch. The human grits his teeth as the backlash from using psionic abilities begins injuring his brain.

    Jos��''s expression darkens.

    That''s right. I''m not a Hero. If I were a Hero, I could kill every filthy demon on this world without batting an eye. I''m only a man, a human who has forcefully broken through the limits of my biology via the power of a higher being.

    But even with that being the case... it doesn''t matter.

    As long as I''m alive, I shall follow Ramma''s will to the very end! I must purge the galaxy of demonic filth!

    Gritting his teeth, Jos�� sweeps his gaze around the halls, toward the countless Shades he still has yet to kill.

    [Umi! Adjust the Psionic Enhancer to level two! I need more power! I need to wipe out every demon in these caves!]

    [Admiral!] Umi replies. [Terran physiology is unable to withstand the mental stresses caused by psionic powers. Raising the special-type biomod ''psionic enhancer'' to Level Two is certain to cause moderate cerebral damage. Are you certain you wish to proceed?]

    [Yes! Increase the level to two!]

    [Orders acknowledged. Special-type biomod ''Psionic Enhancer'' set to Level Two. Psionic limitations removed. Safety restrictions removed. Warning! Consult a level five neurosurgeon immediately, or you will suffer permanent damage-]

    [I know, god dammit!]

    A drop of blood drips from Admiral Rodriguez''s nose as he strains his brain even further. He aims his left palm at Yama and coils energetic power into the illusory space before his hand.

    Energy Manipulation... if it''s level two... I can just barely...

    The Admiral''s eyes bulge with strain as a massive condensing of electrical energy begins to form in front of him. Lightning bolts arc toward the nanosword in his right hand, but they only serve to slightly energize its spent fuel batteries, rather than electrocute the Admiral himself.

    "Rrrrggghh!!"

    Jos��''s grinds his teeth together. Sweat builds on his forehead. Hundreds of Shades use this moment of distraction to fling their iron bolts at him, but instead of deflecting them, the Admiral remains perfectly still and relies on the skin-tight Psionic Barrier surrounding him to protect himself. The iron bolts bounce off the barrier and fall to the ground with loud clattering noises, startling the Shades.

    "What is that human doing?"

    "Ehehe! It''s his last, desperate attempt to hurt us! Look, he''s bleeding from his nose! His head is sure to explode soon!"

    "Quick, while he''s distracted, keep pelting him!"

    Over and over, the Shades bombard Jos�� from all angles, but the human stubbornly holds on, glaring at the distant Emperor of Shadows while continuously building up the electrical orb held in front of his chest.

    Suddenly and without warning, the lightning globe fires from Jos��''s palm! It races across the 300 meter gap toward the Emperor of Shadows in the blink of an eye and explodes, sending thousands of lightning bolts in every direction.

    "Eeeyyaaargh!!"

    Yama howls in agony as pain tears across every inch of his smoke-covered form. Not only does the lightning contain immense electrical power, but its sheer brightness and luminosity burns his soul, forcing him to leap out of the darkness and skitter along the ground like a spider missing half its legs. Yama screeches repeatedly, each howl containing the misery of a dying dog, yet he somehow survives Jos��''s brutal attack, revealing just how durable his Emperor-level body truly is.

    The Shadow Emperor eventually slithers past Jos�� and leaps onto a shadow-covered wall. He spares a glance backward, only to feel his soul shake as he realizes more than a hundred of his females perished to Jos��''s lightning orb! Their scorched miasma lines the distant alcove where he proudly hovered only a minute before, sending heart-rending pain throughout his body.

    "Filthy HERO! We won''t let you live! We will rip the skin off your bones and flay the tendons from your flesh! We''ll grind your skull into powder and feed it to the wargs!!"

    As the Emperor beats a hasty retreat, Jos�� breathes heavily.

    "I''m not a Hero. But after I kill all of you... they might just make me a legend."

 Chapter 27: Flashpoint

    As Jos�� Rodriguez taps into an ancient power, one that his master, Ramma, gave him, Megla and her Kessu companions stand at alert, protectively shielding Ruuki''s unconscious body. They watch as, in the distance, flashes of lightning erupt from time to time. At the mouth of the cave, they sometimes see Jos�� run or fly from one direction to another, his movements a blur. Titanic explosions shake the underground realm, causing dirt and rocks to fall from the ceiling.

    "Kyargh! What in the Rodaks is going on out there?!" Megla asks. "I can''t just sit here and let the Admiral fight by himself!"

    Megla hefts her giant LORBEC, a gun capable of killing dozens of enemies with a single shot. Unaware of how exactly it works, she hesitantly takes aim toward the entrance, her hands shaking from adrenaline. She waits for enemies to slip past the Admiral, but none emerge.

    As the lone Kraktol stands guard, little Lele glances around the inner cave, noting its lack of entrances and exits.

    "Is Big Baldy gonna be okay?"

    "I don''t know," Megla mutters. "He... he should be! The Admiral is incredibly powerful. He''s a Precursor, dammit! He killed a Gate Troll like it was nothing! If he can''t slaughter whatever''s out there, then how can we?!"

    After a moment of silence, Lele reaches into the pockets of her little blue dress. She pulls out a small datapad, one she apparently filched off the Bloodbearer.

    Tap. Tap.

    The kitten types a series of commands, drawing Megla''s attention.

    "What is that? What are you doing?"

    Lele doesn''t look at Megla. "This tablet can connect to the main ship, so I''m talkin'' to the synthmind, Umi. Maybe she knows what''s going on."

    Megla''s slit-eyes narrow. "That''s right! The Admiral told me he can talk to Umi in his head. She probably knows what he''s fighting, since she can see everything he can."

    Half a minute later, a long series of words appears on the datapad. Lele scans them silently.

    "Big Baldy... he''s fighting something called a ''Shade.'' It''s a demon that lives in darkness. It hates the light, so we should be okay as long as your glowy-armor stays bright."

    Baaru, the Kessu Matriarch, shivers with fright. "Oh no! How could I be so stupid?!"

    "Hm?" Megla asks. "What is it, Baaru?"

    Baaru presses her paws against her cheeks. "Ahh! The ancient legend! Every Kessu elder of our clan knows the story, but I always thought it was a bunch of mumbo-jumbo gobbledygook! There''s supposed to be a terrible ghost that lives under the mountain. It steals young girls and drags them into the darkness, never to be seen again!"

    The sides of Megla''s long, croco-jaw raise up in disgust. "Seriously? Young girls? Why only girls?! Is it some kind of gross, pervert-ghost?"

    "I don''t know..." Baaru answers, shaking her head with despair. "I thought it was just a story we told to scare the kittens away from the caves. I always assumed the worst things we''d find down here were Xonbils and Lorroks! How could there be such dreadful creatures as woman-stealing ghosts?"

    Megla glances around the room. Despite the brightness of her Survival Suit providing 99% of the light in the room, it only barely illuminates the walls and ceiling, several hundred feet away. For a brief moment, she almost thinks she sees a shadow shifting, but naturally, after calming herself down, she realizes it can only be a trick of the light; nothing but her imagination.

    "Kyargh! So creepy... I don''t like this one bit! Hey, furball! Ask Umi if there''s anything we can do to protect ourselves."

    Megla naturally directs her order at Lele, but the kitten doesn''t reply for a moment. She lifts her head to gaze into the distance, at the mouth of their mini-cave.

    "Afraid of the light... ah!"

    With a quick flourish, Lele digs into the pocket on the other side of her coat. She pulls out her trusty Hypospanner, an engineering device she always keeps on her, ever since she found it on the Bloodbearer.

    "Hey, mud-breath! Gimme your gun!"

    Lele trots over to Megla and stretches on her tippy-toes to grab at the Kraktol''s weapon. Megla, however, only snarls at her. "Stupid brat! This weapon is dangerous! It''s not something a little baby like you can handle!"

    "I''m not a baby! I''m way smarter than you!" Lele retorts. She hops up and barely manages to touch the underside of the gun before falling back down and landing deftly on her paw-pads. "Gimme! I know what I''m doing!"

    "The heck you do! This isn''t a toy!"

    Lele and Megla fight over the gun for half a minute, but no matter how Lele yells and complains, Megla doesn''t give an inch.

    Finally, Lele stops trying to grab the weapon. "Hmph! Fine. Fine! I guess Big Baldy can just die then! It will be all your fault!"

    Megla''s annoyance shifts to discomfort. A pit opens up in her stomach. "What? Die? But how? D-don''t say such terrible things!"

    Lele''s grandmother walks over and rests her paws on Lele''s shoulders. "Use your words. Why do you want Megla''s gun? She won''t even think of giving it to you otherwise, not unless she knows what you''re going to do with it. We can''t afford any accidents at a time like this."

    After hearing her grandparent''s firm tone, Lele''s ears sag a little.

    "I can help, grammy... these Shades are really scary, but I can save us! Why won''t anyone believe in me?"

    Continuing, Lele adds, "That gun won''t hurt a Shade, but I can make something that will!"

    Megla''s eyes widen. "You can? Will we be able to help the Admiral?"

    "Yeah!"

    The Kraktol hesitates for a moment. She considers the kitten''s words, but then considers the fact that, indeed, the gun probably won''t even hurt the Shades if she manages to shoot them. Once she notices the watery look in Lele''s eyes, Megla lowers her guard and takes a knee.

    "Kyargh! Alright, fine! Here. Take it, but be careful! If you mess up... we''re all done for!"

    Lele smiles as she grabs the giant gun out of Megla''s arms and plops it on the ground. "Thank you, big sister! Wow, you''re not as smelly as I thought!"

    "Sh-shut up, stupid Kessu!" Megla growls. "If we die because of you, I''m gonna bully you in the Forbidden Swamp!"

    "Hmph. I''d like to see you try!"

    Without another word, Lele plops on her butt. She turns her attention toward the giant gun, presses a button on her Hyperspanner, and gets to work disassembling the weapon piece by piece.

    Megla stands up again and turns her attention to the battle outside, as more aftershocks tear through the underground caverns. Unable to help her Admiral, all Megla can do is stand and watch, her heart trembling with fear.

    "Admiral..."

    .......................................

    Tyrannical power surges through Jos��''s body. With the Shades on the retreat, Admiral Rodriguez tears through their ranks like a river carving out a canyon. He slaughters one Shade after another, accumulating more than a thousand kills within tens of minutes.

    Lightning arcs from his palms, shredding the soul-forces of Yama''s harem. He conjures flaming orbs in his hands and flings them in all directions, over and over, creating beautiful, bright towers of light to better illuminate the darkness. Slowly but surely, the Admiral forces the Shades to retreat. No longer do their iron-bar attacks faze him.

    Yama, on his last legs, scowls viciously at the human from a distance. "You''re only one Terran! How can a single fleshbag be so powerful?!"

    Jos�� fires a bolt of lightning toward the Emperor of Shadows, allowing it to arc off his fingertip. "Lots of practice."

    Blood drips from Jos��''s nose. He watches as Yama dodges the lightning bolt to retreat even further into the darkness. Right as Jos�� starts to pursue the Demon Emperor, his brain trembles with exhaustion.

    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    I can''t maintain such a high psionic potential for long. I need to drop my limiter back down to Level 1... but if I do that, my killing speed and efficiency will plummet.

    Right as the Admiral entertains the thought of limiting his power, a terrible presence appears up ahead. From the darkness, countless Hellhounds appear, with Orc riders to boot. Goblins crawl along the walls, while new enemies follow as well. Six gigantic trolls, only a bit smaller than the Gate Trolls Jos�� fought in the Bloodbearer''s simulation, trail behind the swifter demonic beasts. Unlike the Shades, none of these monsters fear something as mundane as light.

    Shit.

    Jos��''s eyes sag. His vision blurs for a moment, but he shakes his head and regains his focus.

    More monsters. If I only had to face an army of Shades or an army of monsters, I wouldn''t have any issues... but both at once is simply impossible. I''m only one man. Damn!

    The Admiral''s willpower weakens considerably as the monster army charges at him from the darkness. Hesitantly, he takes a few steps back.

    [Admiral,] Umi says, her voice speaking telepathically to the Terran, [I have dispatched Officer Soren Mudrose to your position. She will arrive via a Burrowpod in T-minus one minute, seventeen seconds. I have outfitted her with a Mark II Titan-class Battlesuit, as well as multiple auxiliary attachments.]

    With those words, Umi succeeds in forcing Jos��''s mental strength back to its full potential. [What?! No! Don''t you dare send her here! God dammit! It''s bad enough if the rest of us die; you can''t send a young girl with poor combat experience to this battlefield!]

    [My options are limited, Admiral,] Umi counters. [Do not worry. You should be well-aware of a Titan-class Battlesuit''s combat potential. Officer Soren Mudrose will not only be all but invincible, but she will potentially be able to rescue you and prevent any unnecessary casualties.]

    [If Soren lumbers in here with a Titan-suit, she''s liable to bring the roof down on our heads!] Jos�� roars. [Shit! She won''t know how to control that much firepower! Just one wrong move and she''ll kill us all!]

    [I have factored in the potential for catastrophe,] Umi replies, her robotic monotone giving off a sense of assurance. [However, you must do your part, Admiral. Do not fall in battle, and do not overtax your brain. Psionic powers are too draining for Terrans to use without restraint. You should lower your limiter back to Level One and focus on preserving your life until Soren reaches your position.]

    [I can''t do that.] Jos�� retorts. [Yama holds all the cards. If I back off and don''t fight with all my strength, he might wise up and circle around behind me to take Megla and the others hostage! That Survival Suit might be able to protect Megla and Lele if she holds the kitten close, but all the other Kessu will be totally defenseless!]

    He continues. [Shades are weak to light, but I didn''t bring anything capable of outputting a lethal luminosity. Even my nanites have limits. I''m running on fumes, and I have to take a risk. Even if I can''t kill Yama, I have to try! Maybe I can scare him away, at least until Soren arrives...]

    Before the Admiral can continue further, the monster army arrives in front of him. Jos�� swallows his explanations, leaving it to the synthmind to figure out why his plan is the only sensible choice at this moment.

    Admiral Rodriguez unleashes a counterattack at the apex of his limits. He flattens dozens of enemies with telekinetic compression blasts, crushing them with gravitic power beyond what their bodies can handle. Dozens of orcs explode into meat chunks as the weight of mountains presses on them from above, but their Hellhound mounts only suffer a few moments of slowdown before continuing.

    "Roaaaar!!"

    Two Hellhounds dart left and right, then leap at Jos��''s flanks with their open maws aimed at his jugular. He stomps his foot against the floor, causing them to abruptly stop in midair and slam against the rocky ground. "Aiiyee!"

    The Admiral flickers forward, his feet moonwalking across the ground as if he''s become an ice skater. He dodges and weaves, evading multiple dangerous melee attacks from orcs and goblins, all while beelining for the six gigantic Gate Trolls in the rear.

    Megla still has the Living Moldanium Rifle, Jos�� thinks. She can take care of any small fry that get past me, but these Trolls are beyond her ability to fight. I have to slaughter them first!

    The Admiral envelops his body with psionic energy. He kicks off the ground and rushes toward a giant Troll, one with cherry-red skin. The monster grabs at him, but it moves a step too slow. Admiral Rodriguez flies head-first into its chest, turning himself into a living missile. He rips through the Troll''s skin and bone like a carving knife, tearing out its ribs and entrails through the monster''s back.

    "Graaaah!!"

    The monster howls in pain, but Jos�� doesn''t let up. He instantly reverses direction and smashes against its back, then tears out of its front, creating a second gaping hole on the creature''s body.

    Unable to withstand the pain, the Gate Troll crashes forward and falls to the ground. Its collapse startles the other monsters, making them look at the Terran in a new light.

    "Fleshbag fly?" One orc asks. "Kill Troll? How so strong?!"

    "Not normal fleshbag. Big strong one!" A different orc answers. Both of them converse in their own language, though if necessary, Jos�� could easily understand them through his universal translator. "We get much honor if we kill! No fear!"

    "Yeah! Many kill, big slaughter!"

    The orcs both draw their weapons; giant curved scimitars. Before Jos�� can continue toward a second Troll, twenty nearby orcs charge him from every direction. The Admiral starts to crush them like before, only for his vision to momentarily go dark.

    Ugh... my mind is slipping...

    He grimaces.

    I can''t lower my limiter to Level One! I can''t! Yama might have other subordinates, someone capable of impaling me when I''m too distracted! I just have to keep fighting and... and hope!

    Admiral Rodriguez shakes his head once again. He quickly flickers backward and retreats, narrowly avoiding the multi-pronged, potentially lethal combination attack. He zips back in the direction of Megla and the Kessu, heaving his chest with considerable difficulty.

    Blood drips from not only the Admiral''s nose, but his eyes and ears, too. He coughs up a mouthful of clear fluid and gasps in surprise.

    Cerebral hemorrhaging already?! Not good. I only have minutes left at best!

    The moment Admiral Rodriguez loses his train of thought, the unthinkable happens. A gigantic shadow-fist suddenly bursts out of the ground and crashes into him, uppercutting Jos�� and blasting him into the sky!

    BOOM!

    Jos�� plows into the ceiling at a quarter of the speed of sound. His ragdolling form drags along the cave''s roof and gouges out a trench, spraying rock and dirt in all directions. As soon as he loses some of his momentum, Jos�� falls away and spirals to the ground below. He hits the rocky floor with a tremendous thud, causing a crater to form as he drags just a bit further. Eventually, his careening form slows to a stop, leaving behind a long trail of thick, viscous blood.

    Exhausted, beaten, and battered, Jos�� lays motionless for five seconds before hazily blinking his eyes.

    [Warning! Severe internal damage detected throughout Admiral Rodriguez''s body!] Umi exclaims. [Recommend immediate medical assistance. Seventy five broken bones detected. Multiple internal organs have collapsed. Imminent failure state assumed!]

    The Admiral stares forward, his vision dancing erratically. With his face buried half an inch into the rocky floor, he mostly ends up inhaling bits of dirt, along with blood and bone from his broken nose.

    "Huk... huk..." Jos�� gurgles. He struggles to breathe thanks to countless bones in his chest impaling his internal organs.

    Not far away, a black figure materializes. Yama, the Emperor of Shadows, rubs his fist. The miasma comprising his body trembles from having come into close contact with such a dangerously bright object.

    "Filthy human. Did you think we wouldn''t dare to hit you?! We will never allow one of your kind to bully us! For daring to rip and tear your way through our harem, we will sentence you to a never-ending cycle of perpetual torment, one which will culminate in a most agonizing death! Kekekeke!!"

    Multiple other Shades materialize around Yama. They also keep their distance from Jos��, but evil looks of glee play upon their faces as they observe the rapid decline of his glowing skin.

    "Look, Master! The fleshbag''s skin is losing its luster! He''s on his last legs!"

    "Order the orcs to take him away! With the human defeated, we can capture those females he fought so hard to protect! Hahaha! That is what happens when anyone attempts to get in this king''s way!"

    Yama cackles with glee. His words reach Jos��''s ears, but the Admiral finds himself in such a delirious daze that he can barely comprehend Yama''s words.

    Capture... girls... no...

    Body hurts. Starting to fade. Can''t think.

    Is this... where it ends?

    At least... now... I can see them again. See everyone. Won''t be alone anymore...

    A bloody tear forms in the corner of Jos��''s eyes. He stares into the ground blankly, unable to even twitch a muscle.

    Evelyn... Nick... haha... I''ve missed both of you... so much.

    Jos��''s eyes flutter for a moment.

    Then... they close.

    The Admiral''s glowing body slowly dims, shrouding the caves in darkness once again.

    Immediately, countless shadows descend upon him. The Shades grab the Terran''s arms and legs to pin him against the floor.

    One of the shades cackles. "Hahaha! Stupid human. You don''t have any juice left! Now, Master Yama will torture you and turn your women into his playthings! He won''t let you die... he''ll make you suffer for what you''ve done! Wahahaha!!"

    Another Shade grins evilly. "All that fighting, and he still lost. Humans are truly the most pathetic creatures in the galaxy. No wonder they all perished, leaving only this lost lamb behind. They were no threat after all!"

    Yama, the Emperor of Shadows, proudly struts toward Jos��. He kneels in front of the all-but-dead Terran and reveals a disgustingly wretched grin.

    "And now, little fleshbag... we will teach you what it means to suffer."

    ...

    Several miles distant, near the cave''s entrance, a violent boom causes a tremendous shockwave to blast outward in every direction. A terrifying wave of air pressure surges throughout the cavernous reaches as a gigantic metal tube plows into the planet''s surface at three times the speed of sound. Its impact causes the entire mountain range to shudder and all of the shades surrounding Jos�� to look up in alarm.

    "Huh? What was that?"

    "Don''t know. It sounded like one of those ''bombs'' Master once told us about."

    "Did the human plant a bomb, then? Did he plan to seal us all underground?! That tricky bastard!"

    The Shades quickly converse with one another, uncertain of what to do. However, Yama doesn''t pay the noise much heed.

    "Hmph. Who cares about the struggles of one dying fleshbag? Salt, Pepper, you two go and find out what happened. The rest of us will move on to capture the females. And you orcs over there, stop standing around with your thumbs up your butts! Grab this sack of meat and drag him back to our lair!"

    The orcs nod dumbly. "Yes, boss. We do a drag like you say!"

    Yama nods, then turns away from the unmoving Terran.

    "Good! Hehehe! Now, we can finally wrap our claws around those juicy, tight little morsels. Voluptuous! Come with us. You will shackle the crocodile, while we will seize the little one. We wish to ravage her before her family and laugh at their helplessness!"

    "Yes, Master," Voluptuous answers, bowing her head meekly.

    Both shadows flit away, with countless others following in their wake.

    ...

    Elsewhere in the cave system, several miles away.

    A gigantic robot, twenty feet tall, steps out of the metal cylinder containing it. Its pilot shakes off a moment of dizziness as she adjusts her breathing.

    "Sister... Admiral... I''m coming to save you!"

 Chapter 28: Soren the Savior

    Salt and Pepper zip through the underground catacombs toward the source of the ''bomb'' detonation they detected moments before. The two Shades move at unbelievable speeds, crossing five miles of total darkness in the blink of an eye. They stop a few hundred feet away from a tremendous pile of collapsed rubble and pause to examine the scene.

    The cave roof appears sunken in, as if something had crashed through the entire mountain down to these lower levels, more than half a mile below sea level. Where there should be a hole leading to the surface, the mountain has instead collapsed in on itself, blockading the roof with tens of thousands of tons of solidly packed dirt and stone. A cloud of dust hangs in the air, recently stirred up by whatever strange object forced its way into the underground caverns. The two Shades creep a little closer, their expressions turning to bewilderment. Before them, a giant metal cylinder sits embedded several feet in the ground, with only a couple of feet of its upper portion sticking out of the cave floor. A vibrating noise hums in the air, as if a beast were slumbering within the planet''s bowels.

    "What the devil is that?" Pepper asks. "Did it fall from the sky?"

    "Don''t be ridiculous," Salt retorts. "How could anything dig through the mountain so quickly? We would have noticed within seconds! The explosion was nearly instantaneous! I bet that tricky human somehow planted this weird... this weird thing here earlier."

    "But... but we watched him the whole time," Pepper says skeptically, her confusion only increasing further. "How could we have missed something that big?"

    "Dunno. Master says the fleshbags are tricky. We have to watch out for them. They nearly wiped out our entire species, after all."

    "Mmm. True that. Hey, do you hear something?"

    Suddenly and without warning, the circular metal object''s ''lid'' erupts outward, blasting off the cylinder''s top. It flies upward, strikes the ceiling, and embeds half a foot into the stone roof, vibrating for a moment afterward.

    Then, a gigantic metal ''hand'' emerges from the canister. Both Shades go on the alert, gazing with wide-eyed fascination, and a tinge of horror, as a metal ''monster'' begins to climb out of its metallic embryo.

    Salt shrinks back, her eyes wide with shock, as the bipedal machine escapes its containment unit, revealing a shiny, silver body hidden within the darkness. Thanks to her incredible vision and perception, she can easily see every inch of its thick, powerful frame. Two gigantic railgun cannons rest upon the metal monster''s shoulders. Its gauntlets appear powerful enough to effortlessly crush stone into dust, while its single glowing-red eye focuses on them, a tiny laser observing their movements. Having never seen such a terrifying giant, Salt can only begin to imagine what sort of colossal beast must have spawned this behemoth.

    "That thing must be six meters tall!" Pepper gasps. "What is it?!"

    "M-Master... I think he mentioned these once..." Salt whispers. "It''s... it''s a human weapon. A killing machine!"

    At that moment, one hundred and fifty front-facing lights activate on the robot''s body, blasting out tens of thousands of lumens worth of solar energy. The entire cavern system for a mile behind the Shades becomes as bright as if a star had ignited within the underground depths.

    "AHHHHHHHH!!!"

    "IT BURNS! NOOOOO!!!"

    Salt and Pepper scream in horror, their voices echoing far into the distance. Both Shades mindlessly leap backward, their bodies decomposing at terrifying rates. Unable to withstand the bombardment of light upon their shadowy forms, they retreat as quickly as possible, but only make it five steps before their bodies explode into smoke. A second later, they reform and fall to the ground, their limbs continuously melting due to the corrosive solar energy ripping them apart at the atomic level.

    Thrice, the Shades explode, reform, and fall to the floor.

    After the third time, they release high-pitched shrieks, their dying screams mirroring the agony within their souls. Then, they disappear for the rest of eternity, consumed by the all-encompassing light engulfing them.

    ...

    Soren Mudrose, Chief Tactical Officer aboard the Bloodbearer, merely stands and watches for a moment as the Shades perish. Their deaths happen within the span of several seconds, giving her just enough time to witness their fall.

    "Do not become complacent, Officer Mudrose," The synthmind, Umi, says. "Due to the imminent threat to the Admiral''s life, you have not been able to properly learn to control the Titan-class Battlesuit. For now, I will initiate Automated Assault Mode. Your task is to guide the Battlesuit to the Admiral''s location. Leave the combat to me."

    "I understand," Soren says, taking a deep breath. "I''m not much for fighting... so I''ll go with that. Let''s move!"

    Like an Olympic swimmer diving into a pool, Soren charges forward, her movement inside the giant, clunky, and seemingly unwieldy Titan-class Battlesuit quickly becoming smoother every second.

    Boom-boom-boom!

    The ten-ton Battlesuit smashes its feet against the floor as she stomps forward, rapidly increasing her running speed from five miles per hour to more than thirty.

    "Officer Soren," Umi says, her computerized voice speaking within the Battlesuit''s cockpit. "You must move with haste. The Admiral''s vital signs have essentially ceased, but his body has begun to move. I suspect the demonic entities intend to capture him and drag him further into their underground lair. You must bring him back in as little time as possible."

    "I understand!" Soren answers. "Don''t worry. I will not let the Admiral down!"

    Despite running at insane speeds far beyond what her body could ever pull off, compared to the Shades within the world of darkness, Soren''s movement is as slow as a turtle''s. She travels toward the Admiral''s blinking vital signs, which appear as a red dot superimposed over the Titan''s holographic imaging interface.

    "Seven hundred meters to the Admiral''s current location," Umi says. "I am detecting multiple Giant-class demonic entities, as well as several hundred Hunter-class enemies. Threat rating: 0.01."

    "Giant-class entities?" Soren repeats. "Like Trolls? The ones I fought in the simulation?"

    "Affirmative. However, you have nothing to worry about. Inside a Titan-class Battlesuit, it is all but impossible for biological entities to injure you. Only Duke and Emperor-class demons will pose a threat, and only if they catch you off-guard. Should a Battlesuit utilize Automated Assault Mode, it will only perform with a 5% combat efficiency when compared to the control of a seasoned and veteran pilot. This extreme loss of efficiency is undesirable, but it will still prove more than adequate for dealing with low-level demonic entities."

    ...

    Not far away, at Admiral Rodriguez''s body.

    A dozen Shades linger near the fallen Terran, having been told to stay behind with the human, just in case anything happens. All of them grumble and moan, complaining as loudly as possible about their bad luck.

    "This stinks!"

    "I wanted to watch Master break and train that little pussy-cat. Now I''m stuck here, babysitting a dead man."

    "Maybe we should mess with the orcs. That''s always good for a laugh!"

    "Oh, shut up, Prankster. Only babies like that stuff."

    "Nuh-uh!"

    "Uh-huh!"

    "Nuh-uh!"

    "Uh-huh!"

    Several of the Shades argue among each other as they trail behind a pair of orcs. The two monsters hold the human by his arms and legs to roughly carry him through the underground catacombs. Jos�� hangs limp in their grasp, his entire body unmoving and unable to sense the world around him. Countless nanites swim throughout his bloodstream, their movements slowing more and more every minute due to his unmoving hearts.

    By all accounts, the Terran has perished.

    For whatever reason, none of the monsters or Shades care about this fact. They continue traveling deeper into the underground levels, dragging the Terran''s corpse along to some awful, distant torture chamber.

    As they do, a few of the goblins at the front perk their pointy ears up. They swivel their heads toward a main passage up ahead, where a faint trickle of light begins to slowly expand and brighten that particular exit. In the distance, a sound greets their ears.

    Boom, boom, boom, boom.

    The sound of something heavy smashing the ground at regular intervals makes them hesitate.

    The lead goblin frowns. "What that noise?"

    "Dunno," his nearest companion replies. "It sound reeeally angry though!"

    One of the Shades flickers toward the front. Her expression darkens. "I can''t sense Salt and Pepper! Where did they go? Ah! Don''t tell me... don''t tell me they died?!"

    A second Shade jumps in alarm. "No way! How can that be? Those two are always so cautious!"

    Within seconds, the distant light becomes brighter than ever. The unmistakable sounds of titanic footsteps makes all of the Shades turn to one another in a panic. Not knowing what the hell is coming, the duly appointed leader barks an order. "Y-you, orcs! Gobbys! Take the trolls and find out what''s making all that noise. Hurry!"

    The four remaining thirty-foot-tall trolls stare dully as their miniature companions zip between their legs and follow the head Shade''s orders. By the time the Trolls start moving, the light up ahead has become astoundingly bright, while the heavy footsteps grow ever more frightening and oppressive.

    All at once, a metal giant rounds the corner, its 150 luminous headlamps blasting down the corridors. The Shades scream in pain and retreat as quickly as possible, while the charging goblins and orcs screech to a halt and shield their eyes. Despite how the light doesn''t injure their bodies like it does the Shades, it''s still more than bright enough to blind them and destroy their retinas.

    "Aaargh! Big brightness underground! Where come from?!"

    The oncoming robotic warrior doesn''t slow down. Soren Mudrose charges at full speed like a stampeding bull. She smashes through the frontlines, stomping anyone in her path into patches of bloody mulch, while swinging the Battlesuit''s arms from side to side. Each swing shatters spines, crushes skulls, and sends the helpless orcs and goblins flying, their comparatively tiny bodies about as threatening to the Titan-class Battlesuit as a toothpick to a T-Rex.

    The Trolls, still lagging behind the orcs and goblins, don''t suffer nearly as badly. Perhaps thanks to their tiny pea-brains, they ignore the pain in their eyes to charge at Soren''s oncoming form. They raise their fists high and swing down, intending to crush the Battlesuit into spare parts. Given how its size is only 2/3rd''s the height of the Trolls, their victory seems inevitable.

    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    However, before the Trolls can land their crushing blows, the two automated railguns mounted atop the Titan''s shoulders swivel toward the fleshy giants.

    Thoomph! Thoomph!

    With two simultaneous shots, a power unlike anything seen in the galactic community for one hundred million years blasts out of the turrets'' barrels. The two nearest Trolls detonate like bombs as two miniature shells rip through their bodies at 5% the speed of light. Their ribs explode backward in horrific showers of gore, splattering their companions behind them. The railgun shell tears into the mountainside and causes a localized earthquake, sending shockwaves in all directions. The deafening concussive blasts blow out the eardrums of the remaining two Trolls, making them stumble in pain while howling soundlessly.

    By the time the two remaining Trolls manage to open their eyes, all they see is a stupendously blinding light flying at their faces. Soren raises two fists and smashes the Trolls'' skulls, killing them before they have a chance to react.

    Within ten seconds of her arrival, Soren murders every monster in the area, leaving lakes of blood and gore in her wake.

    "Haah... haaah...." Soren gasps, her adrenaline pumping like crazy. "Did... did I do that?! This suit is incredible!"

    "Now is not the time for self-congratulations!" Umi says, her tone authoritative. "The Admiral''s body rests only seventy meters from your position. Fetch him as quickly as possible and return to the shuttle."

    Soren nods. She starts to walk toward the Admiral''s ''blip,'' only to pause. "Wait, what about Megla? I have to rescue my sister and the Kessu too!"

    "Negative," Umi replies. "Admiral Rodriguez is your top priority. You must bring the last Terran to the Bloodbearer at once. He is the last of his species. If he perishes, there will be no others. However, there are still countless Kraktol and Kessu elsewhere in the galaxy."

    Soren continues walking toward the Admiral, but her ecstasy from killing all of the monsters disappears, replaced instead with a mixture of horror and outrage. "How could you say that?! Megla is my sister! I will not leave her behind, synthmind!"

    "You will follow my orders," Umi replies. The synthmind''s tone becomes noticeably colder than before. "The Admiral''s survival is my top priority. The sooner you bring him back-"

    "I''ll bring the Admiral back as soon as possible!" Soren shouts, fury building in her chest. "But I will also rescue my sister and the Kessu first! Don''t you dare try to stop me!"

    "Officer Mudrose. Your conduct is unbecoming-"

    "Shut up!" Soren shouts, her voice becoming increasingly venomous. She slows to a stop beside the Admiral''s unmoving body and grits her teeth. "Not another damned word! If you think I don''t know how critical the Admiral''s condition is, you''ve got another thing coming! Now, how can I bring him along with me safely? I''m liable to crush him to death if I''m not careful."

    Umi falls silent for several seconds, as if calculating a response. When she does reply, her tone is noticeably more curt than before.

    "Before you entered the Titan-class Battlesuit, you also obtained numerous auxiliary attachments. One of those is the Temporary Medical Stasis Device. The TMSD will envelop the Admiral in a protective force-field. Place him inside and it will temporarily preserve his vitals as they are now. However, this effect will only last for thirty minutes."

    One of the magnetically attached devices on Soren''s Battlesuit glows with a golden hue thanks to her HUD. She grabs the circular object, activates it with a command, and places it on the Admiral''s chest. A faint blue film rapidly envelops the Terran''s body, sealing him in its protective embrace. Moments later, he levitates into the air, and an invisible ''chain'' of energy connects him to the Battlesuit''s torso.

    "Once again," Umi says, "I must demand that you return to the Bloodbearer at once. The Admiral''s life is incomparably valuable. If he perishes, it will mean the extinction of his entire species."

    Soren hesitates.

    "...You think I don''t know that? If I could, I would! No matter what, I''m not going to leave my sister down here! End of discussion."

    Soren starts stomping in the direction of Megla and the Kessu, following the general direction of their vital signs. As she does, Umi beeps with disappointment.

    "Originally, I calculated that you would be an officer who prioritized logic over petty emotions."

    "I never expected myself to act this way either," Soren retorts. "But now that I''ve made the choice, I''ll never regret it. Logic is irrelevant once my family''s safety is at stake!"

    "...In that regard, I suppose Admiral Rodriguez would commend you. By all accounts, were your roles switched, I am 100% certain he would make the same choice."

    Soren snorts. "Good. That''s the nicest thing you''ve said all day."

    .......................................

    A few miles away, inside the tucked-away Kessu cave.

    Megla hovers over little Lele''s shoulder, wringing her claws together. "Come on, hurry up! What''s taking you so long?"

    Lele, still disassembling Megla''s rifle into a new device, releases a long meow of annoyance. "Mraaaaw! Every time you ask, you slow me down, scale-face! Just be quiet and let me focus, jeez!"

    The red-scaled Kraktol flicks her eyes around the room. Already, her eyes seem to be playing tricks on her, as the flickering shadows appear to slowly move around, bit by bit. Like pitch-black lava lamps, dozens of ''shadow globs'' slowly float across the ceiling, making Megla feel extremely uneasy.

    I swear to the galaxies, it feels like a bunch of creepy monsters are looking at me! Are those the Shades that little furball mentioned? Augh! If this brat is trying to prank me, I''ll shave her fur and dunk her in a bath!

    Megla listens intently, but no matter how she strains, she doesn''t hear the sounds of combat outside. Her nerves tighten more and more every second.

    Is the Admiral okay? Maybe he escaped! Yeah. He''ll leave and come back with a... with a rescue thingy! Yeah! He wouldn''t just leave us here, would he? Oh, gosh, I hope he didn''t lose the battle! He has to be okay, he just has to!

    "Kyargh! Hurry up, fuzz-brain!" Megla hisses. "I have a terrible feeling something bad is about to happen!"

    Hardly have the words left Megla''s mouth, before a shudder goes down her spine. She whirls around and screams in a shrill, terror-stricken voice. "Eeeeyaaah!!!"

    Behind her, on the wall, a gigantic face comprised entirely of shadow smiles at her, its creepy and sinister expression revealing nothing but delight in her squeamishness.

    "Ehehehe!" The face cackles. "Listen to that delightful scream! You seem to be afraid of little old ''us,'' you pretty little reptile. What''s the matter? Do we scare you?"

    The face increases in size, swallowing up the entire side of the wall. Megla loses her footing and falls to the ground, panic pulsing through her veins. The Kessu behind her appear to be even worse condition, with all of the children having fainted from terror, and Baaru simply unable to move. The Matriarch''s legs tremble and shake, while her knees knock together.

    "Sh-shadow monster! Mreeooww!! Hiss!"

    All of Baaru''s fur stands on end. She hunches down low and raises her claws as if to attack, but it only takes one look at her expression to see she wants nothing more than to flee.

    As the Shade, Yama, indulges in his twisted fear fetish, his expression sours slightly. In between all of the frightened and screaming Kessu and Megla, one creature remains completely impassive to his presence. Little Lele continues to tinker away with her Hyperspanner, slowly building what looks like a radio antenna with a tripod base. The barrel of Megla''s old rifle points straight up in the air, and the whole thing only stands about one and a half feet tall.

    Yama frowns. "Hmm. Why is this child not cowering in fear? What a brave little girl! Perhaps she has not yet noticed our majesty and splendor!"

    Lele raises her head for a moment. She glances behind herself at the horrifying face on the wall. After staring at it for a moment, she returns to what she was doing, her expression not changing in the slightest. Her reaction appears about as startled or impressed as if a leaf had blown past her face.

    The Emperor of Shadows begins to feel annoyed. He doesn''t draw any nearer, due to Megla''s glowing force-field, but he skirts around the battlefield, his gigantic head continuing to swallow up the walls. "You there! Little girl! Did your parents not teach you to look at your elders when they talked to you?!"

    Bzzt, brrt.

    Lele continues to quietly work on her little science project. "Sorry, can''t. I''m busy right now."

    "B-busy?!" Yama sputters. Countless other Shades materialize on the walls around him, their expressions unsightly. "How dare you ignore us?! We have ruled this underground world for countless years! We have tortured and defiled countless females, making them scream in terror before succumbing to our power!"

    Rather than intimidating and scaring Lele, the Shade Emperor''s words have the opposite effect. She glances at his shadow for a moment and snorts. "Oh, geez. What a dumb, poopy-looking shadow! Look at the big, scary guy, picking on little girls and women. You''re just a stupid, weak little bully. You''re not scary at all!"

    Lele''s words make the other Kessu jump in alarm. One of the Kessu boys, Skippy, quickly drops down and presses his paw against her mouth. "What are you saying?! This shadow is about to kill us all! Didn''t you hear what he did to the other Kessu?! We''re in dire straits, you brat!"

    "Hahaha, well spoken!" Yama cackles. "You should be afraid, little male! We are going to tie your females down, violate them endlessly, make them beg for death, and then convert them to our harem! As for you males, we will flay the skin off your bones and feed your blood to our wargs! Your pain has only just begun!!"

    Lele rolls her eyes. She pulls the boy''s paw off her mouth. "You don''t scare me. If you were a real man, you''d wait one minute and fifteen seconds for me to finish my Discombobulating Tickle Poker. Too bad you''re even more of a scaredy-cat than Skippy here."

    "What?! You insolent little brat! How dare you insult this Emperor''s majesty! Do you think we are afraid of a tiny little baby like you?!"

    "I don''t know. Are you?"

    Even as Lele talks, she continues to screw and weld pieces into place, slowly finishing her assembly of whatever device she happens to be working on. Megla''s fear subsides somewhat, and a thought forms in the back of her mind as she notices how the conversation has shifted.

    The furball is oddly confident. Could it be? Does she really have some means to hurt or kill these Shades?

    A flash of light appears in the Kraktol''s eyes. She stands up a little taller and presses her fists against her waist.

    "Kyargh! Well said, little furball! Hahaha! How could I be so blind? It''s no wonder this shadow-blob taunts us from a distance! He''s too scared of us to let you finish your infamous Tickle Poker! Even the weakest males of the Kraktol wouldn''t be afraid of a few tiny little cats and women! This so-called ''Emperor'' is truly nothing in my eyes!"

    Yama hesitates.

    The Shadow Emperor glowers at Megla with the rage of a charging bull.

    "Shut your mouth, woman! Soon, we''ll have you screaming and begging for mercy!"

    "Sure, sure," Megla says, slowly building back her confidence. "I''m not denying you can and you will. But does it matter? If all you can do is bully the weak, then you aren''t worth a drop of my spit. My Admiral is a thousand times the man you will ever be!"

    At these words, the Shadow Emperor''s unsightly expression shifts dramatically. Once again, his confidence comes roaring back, along with a sinister grin. "Hehehe. Your Admiral, hm? Haven''t you noticed yet, worthless woman? He''s all but dead now, a meat puppet in our claws! We defeated that fleshbag, and now we have come for you! Tremble and despair, for no matter how you taunt this Emperor, you cannot leave here as anything but our helpless pet!"

    Megla''s expression sinks. Indeed, Yama''s words have the intended effect, making her heartbeat slow to a stop.

    "W-what? You... you beat the Admiral?! No! That''s not possible! The Admiral... he''s invincible! You can''t possibly...!"

    "Hehehe, we can, and we have! This Emperor crushed the fleshbag with relative ease. He killed a few minor members of our harem, but it matters not! Now that he has fallen, nobody can save you! Nobody!!"

    As Yama brags, Lele''s paws move with ruthless efficiency. She slides the last bolt into place on her ''Discombobulating Tickle Device'' and nods with satisfaction.

    "Okay, done! You can die now!"

    Without hesitation, Lele jumps to her feet while ignoring the Emperor''s cackling. She lifts the odd antenna-shaped device over her head and presses a button on its underside, causing it to vibrate and build up power.

    Click, whirrrrrrrr...

    Yama stops laughing. The Shade Emperor immediately looks at the device in Lele''s hands with confusion. "Hm? Die? Wahaha! Does this silly baby think she can tickle us to death?! This Emperor has heard many jokes in our life, but none have been as funny as this!"

    "It''s not a tickling device, you dummy," Lele says, her voice cold. "It''s a weapon. And you let me build it."

    At that moment, a faint ball of light appears atop the antenna.

    Fwip!

    The light-orb instantly fires upward and slams against the ceiling.

    FWEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

    A high-pitched noise erupts underground, like a banshee shrieking in its last moments. At the same time, the luminous orb detonates, bathing the cave with an astonishingly bright light, one which mirrors the beginning of creation.

    "EEEEYAAAAARGHHHH!!"

    Yama, the haughty Emperor of Shadows, screams in agony as the scorching brightness bathes him for 1.34 seconds, irradiating not only him, but all of the Shades present with the lethal cosmic rays. They instantly lose their formlessness, explode into smoke, and reform a moment later as biped-shaped creatures of varying species, landing on the floor to crawl around and scream in pain.

    "Aaaargh! You little BITCH!! AHHHH! This Emperor will kill youuu!!"

    Yama screams incoherently, only managing to put his body together after a few more seconds.

    Meanwhile, other than the sudden brightness forcing Megla and the Kessu to quickly cover their eyes, they don''t suffer any harm at all. The Kraktol quickly swivels to face the enemies around her, looking at them with astonishment.

    "What?! Furball, you did this?!"

    "Mhm," Lele answers, shrugging nonchalantly. "No biggie. Oh hey, shadow-bully! Here''s another."

    Click, whirrrrrrrr...

    The antenna rapidly builds up energy for another ball of light, making the Shadow Emperor''s nonexistent blood freeze solid. He recoils in horror and flees to the furthest point in the room, but in his heart of hearts, he knows he cannot hide from that all-encompassing light.

    "No, please! Aahhh! Have mercy! The light burns us! We do not like it, not one bit!"

    "Too bad!" Lele laughs. "Like my Aunt Lorrie always says... if someone''s gonna hurt me or my friends, I have to hurt them first! Now die, please!"

    The orb atop the antenna fires once again. It instantly strikes the roof and detonates into another light-blast of god-like intensity.

    "AAAAAHHHHHH!!"

    Yama screams once again, along with all the other members of his harem. This time, when the light recedes, two of his Shades explode into smoke and don''t reappear. The rest flee the room as quickly as they can, skirting around the edges to avoid Megla''s glowing Survival Suit.

    Yama joins them in his flight, his last panicked words being, "Y-you''ll regret this, little girl! You will regret this!!"

    ...

    A moment later, the cave falls silent.

    Lele glances at Megla.

    "Okay! We can leave now. Let''s go find Big Baldy!"

    Megla sighs.

    "Alright. You got me. You''re not bad, kid."

    "Thanks!"

 Chapter 29: Leader Lele

    Lele and Megla gather up the other Kessu and slowly begin walking toward the cave''s exit. Since they don''t know help is on the way, the only thought on their minds is to press the advantage and try to escape as quickly as possible. Behind Megla, the younger Kessu work together to carry Ruuki''s badly injured body, while Baaru stays close by and meows anxiously.

    Megla walks behind Lele, holding her fists up in what she hopes is a threatening manner. Lele raises her light-orb device over her head and activates it every ten or so seconds, hoping to blast apart any Shades daring enough to draw near. However, thanks to the Shades leaving them alone, everyone progresses without impediment.

    "Kyargh!" Megla moans. "Brat. You broke apart my weapon. Now I don''t have anything to fight with!"

    "Your gun wouldn''t do anything to those shadow-monsters anyway," Lele retorts. "It''s better if I use this tool."

    After Lele discharges another orb of light, the group continues forward. When they leave their little cave, all of the Kessu gasp. Outside, massive, torn-up piles of meat and bone lay in the exterior hallways of the caves. Not only orcs and goblins, but even the gigantic Hellhound lay in thick, viscous pools of blood.

    Little Lele''s childish nature takes over for a moment as she recoils in horror. "Eeee! W-what are those things?! They''re scary-looking!"

    Megla frowns. "I do not know. I''ve never seen these monsters before. They''re... hideous. Stay close. If any of them are still alive, I''ll have to fight them with my fists."

    The kitten''s fur stands on end. "Th-these monsters... they probably aren''t weak to light! If so, then my gadget won''t hurt them at all!"

    "Then let''s hope we don''t run into any," Megla says, her expression turning ugly. "These little ones don''t look like much. I could probably take out half a dozen of them by myself... but the big ones look much stronger. Oh! What''s that over there?"

    The yellow-scaled Kraktol points forward, toward a metal object laying on the ground. The moment she gestures toward it, her face turns grim, as well as Lele''s.

    "Oh no..." Lele whispers. "B-Big Baldy''s gun..."

    "Why would he leave his weapon behind?" Megla asks, her voice tinged with worry. "Don''t tell me... he..."

    "Big Baldy is fine! He must be!" Lele yells. "He''s super strong!"

    "But he''s only one warrior," Megla says, shaking her head. "Not even the Th��lvik could fight an army of such horrible, fiendish monsters alone. And the shadow-monsters, they came after us, too. Why would the Admiral let them past?"

    Megla doesn''t continue her train of thought. Her stomach churns painfully as she tries to steady her nerves. A fear unlike any she''s ever felt before wells up in her chest; the worry of losing someone she cares about.

    The Kraktol quickly walks over and grabs the Admiral''s gun. After checking its battery, her expression becomes even more solemn. "...It has fifty percent of its power remaining."

    "Oh, that''s good," Lele says absentmindedly. "At least now we''ll have a weapon!"

    Baaru and Ruuki, Lele''s grandmother and father, look each other in the eyes. Their gazes hold deep meaning.

    The Great Precursor wouldn''t drop his weapon intentionally if it were still usable. He might discard it if it ran out of power, but that would be the only plausible reason.

    Even for the primitive Kessu, they know that no warrior worth his salt would ever cast aside his sword or spear, not unless it became unusable. For the Terran to leave his behind, their minds can only assume the worst.

    However, with their kitten leading the party, none of the older Kessu say anything. They simply lower their eyes and shake their heads. They don''t have the heart to shatter the poor girl''s hope.

    After a moment of inspecting the gun to ensure it works, Megla leads the Kessu around the monster corpses. They practically cling to the walls, trying to give the dead beasts as wide of a berth as possible. For the Kessu, the reason is religious in nature, as they believe the dead souls of the monsters might attack them if they draw their ire. For Megla, it''s more a matter of practicality, since there might be enemy survivors capable of lashing out and injuring one of the Kessu.

    Before long, they leave the monsters behind and breathe a small sigh of relief. Lele continues firing her light-orbs into the air, but not once do any Shades show their faces. Clearly, they intend to give the party plenty of space.

    At least for now.

    ...

    As the survivors walk, they suddenly hear a distant noise, like the sound of a terrifying, gigantic monster storming through the cavern system. All of the Kessu freeze and start hissing in a panic. Megla raises her rifle and aims into the distance, where half a mile ahead, the cave rounds a bend. Among the many side-paths, Megla sticks to the one she remembers best. Unfortunately, the terrifying beast''s footsteps approach from her intended path!

    "Ah, damn," Megla curses. "Don''t tell me it''s one of those giant shadow-mutts. I don''t even know how the Admiral killed one on his own, let alone how I''d manage!"

    She glances backward, wondering for a moment if everyone should retreat the direction they came. Maybe they can hide in the cave they left behind. But if they do, they will not last long without ample provisions.

    Lele''s voice grabs Megla''s attention. "Meow! What''s that? Light?"

    Megla returns her gaze to the front of the pack. She blinks in surprise when she sees a fierce brightness approaching from that bend in the path.

    Already, the monster''s terrifying footsteps have become louder than ever. Its approach reminds Megla of the charge of a two-headed Stonebull, one of the monsters on the Kraktol''s homeworld.

    As Megla''s nerves tighten, Lele reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out the PDA from earlier. On its screen, a series of words appear, along with a diagram of some strange machine.

    "Oh... oh?!"

    Lele''s eyes light up with excitement. She raises her head to look into the distance, where a tremendous, bipedal automaton rounds the bend and slows to a stop, its intensely bright lights bombarding Megla and the Kessu, making them recoil and flinch.

    "Augh! What is that thing?!" Megla cries. "I can''t even look at it!"

    Lele holds her paws up in front of her eyes. "It''s not an enemy! It''s a Titan, one of Big Baldy''s robots! Yellow-Lady is inside it!"

    Right after Lele speaks, the six-meter-tall Titan turns off almost all of its lights, except for two front-running ones, allowing the Kessu to finally make out the hardened exosteel comprising its outer shell. Two frightening-looking cannons rest atop each of its shoulders, while its silver-colored armor makes it stand out from the darkness. A single red ''eye'' on its head looks toward Megla.

    "Sister?" Soren says, her voice projecting from inside the automated suit. "You''re okay? I thought the Shades were about to attack you."

    Megla smiles. "Kyargh! Soren! You won''t believe it, but this little furball saved our butts! She made a tool that scared away those stupid shadow-monsters!"

    While Megla laughs, Soren falls silent. It takes a few seconds for the scholarly Kraktol to speak again. "...So you were okay. I rushed here for no reason. And the Admiral... he..."

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Soren''s voice ripples with regret, a fact that doesn''t escape Megla''s notice. "Sister? What''s wrong? Did you find the Admiral? Is he okay?!"

    "He''s..."

    The younger sister balls her hands into fists and strikes her thighs, as if trying to punish herself.

    "He''s behind me!"

    Soren turns to the side and gestures behind herself, where a hovering stasis device floats silently, the Admiral''s lifeless body contained within.

    "Admiral? ADMIRAL!" Megla cries.

    "Big Baldy!"

    "Great Precursor!"

    Baaru, Lele, and Megla all run over to Admiral Jos�� Rodriguez''s dying figure. He lays, unmoving, his skin far more pale and corpse-like than ten minutes before, making Soren''s heart ache with guilt.

    "I shouldn''t have come here!" Soren says. "I should have gone back to the ship first, like Umi said! I... the Admiral... he''s going to die because of me!"

    Megla quickly looks at her sister. "Don''t say that! Don''t! The Admiral... he''ll be fine! You just need to get him back to the ship, ASAP! Go. We''ll be fine. We''ll make it!"

    Lele points toward a small display panel on the side of the Admiral''s stasis stretcher. "Big Baldy is still alive! See? His numbers are going up and down!"

    "Yes," Soren mumbles, "But they won''t last long. If I have to lead all of you out of here, he''ll almost certainly..."

    Before the Kraktol can continue speaking, a Synthmind voice speaks in her cockpit. Soren falls silent and listens for a moment before nodding.

    "That... that could work! Everyone, Umi had me bring along a bunch of supplies. They''re magnetically attached to this robotic frame. I... I''ll go back to the ship on my own. You can take these weapons and tools... protect yourselves and make your way to the surface!

    Without waiting for a response, Soren deactivates the magnetic attachment modules stuck to the Titan''s exosteel frame. Fifteen different items fall to the ground, landing with loud clangs when they hit the hardened rocky floor.

    "Lele," Soren says, "Umi will transmit details regarding these devices to your PDA. Distribute them as you see fit. You''re in charge!"

    "I am?" Lele asks.

    "She is?!" Megla cries. "She''s just a little furball-"

    "I don''t have time to argue," Soren says, cutting her sister off. "Lele is the only technology expert on your team. You all will have to work together. I''ll take Admiral Rodriguez back to the ship. If we''re lucky, I can still save him!"

    Sensing the seriousness of the situation, Megla only nods. "Yes, good. Alright, sister. You go, then. We will survive! I''m not going to let a bunch of monsters wipe us out!"

    "That''s the spirit."

    Soren nods hurriedly, then turns around and starts running away, causing her exoframe''s feet to leave half-foot-deep craters in the ground behind her. She reactivates her array of forward-facing lights and drags the Admiral''s hovering stasis stretcher behind her. Within moments, she disappears around the bend, leaving Megla and the others behind to fend for themselves.

    After her sister leaves, Megla and the others walk over to the dropped items. Despite her cursory resistance to a little kitten leading the makeshift spelunkers, Megla quickly realizes she doesn''t care. Her heart forms countless knots as she frets over whether or not the Admiral will live or die.

    Lele starts rifling through the items. She glances at her PDA from time to time as Umi transmits information regarding each item. "Hmm. Let''s see. Kinetic Disperser... this looks like it''s for blocking projectiles. Long Range Tactical Scanner... useful for mapping these caves. Oooh, a Deployable Energy Shield! Maybe we could just put this down and stay inside it until Red-Lady comes back!"

    Lele mutters to herself for several minutes as she finishes cataloging all fifteen items. While she works, Megla keeps activating the light-orb device to ensure no Shades will sneak up on the party. Eventually, Lele turns to the others. "Here grandma, this is for you! And look, there''s even a Nanite Field Injector for daddy!"

    Baaru takes hold of a strange-looking metal cube, one that''s about a foot in diameter. She watches as Lele walks over to Ruuki and presses a syringe to his arm, injecting nanites into him to help heal his body. "I... I don''t know what this strange box does. Never mind that! Will my precious baby be okay? Will Ruuki be alright?"

    The older Kessu walks over to Lele''s side and trills anxiously, but Lele waves her paw nonchalantly. "No problem! Daddy''s just fine, grandma! As long as we all stick together, we''ll definitely make it out of here!"

    ...

    While the group continues passing the items around to the adults and younger members, a pair of Shades watches from the distance, peeping out from a corner whenever the light-orbs flash.

    "Damned kitten. She hurt Master Yama," The first Shade hisses.

    The second Shade, one with an avaricious look on her face, replies with a hate-filled tone. "Hehehe! That kitten thinks she''s clever, but Master Yama has lived for countless ages. He''s encountered trillions of fleshbags in his life. Once he recovers from his injuries, he''s sure to come up with a plan for capturing her. After she falls in his hands, she''ll regret hurting him for the rest of her miserable existence!"

    The first Shade frowns. "All this effort just for one little girl and an ugly crocodile. Don''t you think it would be better if Master Yama took the men, too? He could turn them into Shadow-Walkers, at the least. A few disposable minions would at least make up for some of our losses."

    "He can''t," The second Shade replies. "Ever since the humans wounded our Master, he lost his ability to ''turn'' males into thralls. Only females will meet his needs."

    The first Shade expresses her skepticism. "Really? Were his soul injuries that severe?"

    "Yes. Master Yama never quite recovered to the height of his former power. If Emperor Belial were still alive, he could have forced her to heal him. Sadly, she died countless eras ago."

    "Oh well," the first Shade sighs. "In the end, Master Yama survived the extinction of his species. And so, it is he who had the last laugh. The angels, Titans, humans, and all the other demons died, but thanks to our Master, the demons will eventually make a comeback."

    "Hehehe... such is karma. The last demon versus the last human, and the human lost. Our Master is truly all-powerful."

    Both Shades chuckle amongst each other, then flit away, leaving to deliver news about the Kessu''s fortunate encounter. Now that their targets have equipped themselves with formidable weaponry, capturing them will prove far more difficult.

    But to these Shades, nothing is more important than giving their Master the toys he desires...

    .......................................

    Aboard the Bloodbearer.

    Having taken only twenty minutes to return to her drop-pod, ten to continue running through the mountain, and ten to take the Slipstream and fly back to the ship, Soren anxiously delivers Admiral Rodriguez''s body to the Bloodbearer''s medical bay. She hands the Admiral off to the holographic crew inside, then steps out, allowing them to immediately begin the medical scanning and imaging process.

    After she exits the medical bay, Umi speaks overhead. "Officer Mudrose. Your companions are currently engaged in a fierce battle on the planet''s surface. Now that you have delivered the Admiral to the medical bay, there is nothing more for you to do here. I will attempt to restore the Admiral''s condition. In the meantime, you should return to Tarus II to rescue the others."

    Soren wrings her claws together. The plexiglass frosts over, hiding everything within the Medical Bay as she stares from the outside. "But... but the Admiral! Is he still alive? Will he be okay?!"

    Several seconds pass before Umi replies.

    "Admiral Jos�� Rodriguez. His current condition is... I do not believe that informing you will lead to anything but a decline in your mental well-being."

    "I don''t care about that!" Soren shouts. "Just tell me! Will the Admiral survive?!"

    Never in all her life has Soren felt such deep, complicated emotions. For her entire existence, she''s always acted as a calm, logically-minded person, someone with absolute focus and commitment to her work. In the past, even if it were her sister who had suffered such severe injuries, the yellow-scaled Kraktol would never allow her baser instincts to flare up.

    However, for some reason, her icy barrier cracks under the thought of losing the Admiral. Not even she can fully deduce the reason why.

    "I apologize, Officer Mudrose," Umi says, her monotone voice making Soren feel as if she''s arrived at the abyss of despair. "Admiral Rodriguez suffered extreme mental damage as a result of unleashing one of Ramma''s forbidden combat abilities. His brain has hemorrhaged several ounces of blood and cerebrospinal fluid. Additionally, fourteen percent of his grey matter has decomposed. I may potentially be able to save his life... but it is unlikely he will act in the same way as he did before."

    Soren''s breath catches in her throat. "What... what do you mean?"

    "I apologize. I am unable to elaborate. At this point, I can only offer wild speculation. Admiral Rodriguez''s cerebral injuries are almost entirely due to unleashing Ramma''s power... but it is also Ramma''s power that may save him. Based upon the classified information I''ve managed to retain, the side-effects of this operation will be extremely severe."

    Soren''s claws tremble, and her whole body loses a great deal of strength. She sinks to her knees and leans against the window, breathing hard. "He... his... injuries... he..."

    "Officer Mudrose. Please attempt to restrain your emotions. We still do not know the results of the operation. I will require several days to complete this operation. In the meantime, only you have the capability of returning to the planet to assist Officer Brighteye in surviving the enemy attack. There is nothing more you can do to assist the Admiral now, but your sister''s survival is still unclear."

    Soren nods slowly. She forcibly steadies her breathing, then shakily rises to her feet. "My sister... my sister, Megla. Yes. Yes! I have to help her. Can''t... can''t let her die, too!"

    With her mind numb from grief, Soren stumbles toward the Shuttle Bay, where she will once again return to the planet below.

    As she leaves, Umi turns her internal sensors toward the Admiral. A half-dozen holographic personnel get to work performing surgery on him. Laser scalpels cut into various parts of his body, guided by the Synthmind''s orders.

    "How unfortunate," Umi says to herself. "I did not anticipate the Admiral might fail his mission. It seems that without Private Azaram at the Admiral''s side, his combat prowess and strategical planning capabilities have declined substantially. Indeed, Terrans who form teams are often more adept at completing missions than those who do not. And if their companions should perish, the survivors usually become far less effective at solo-work than they were originally."

    Umi coldly gazes at the Admiral without a hint of emotion.

    "In the end... humans are truly a fragile species."

 Chapter 30: Battle in the Caves

    "Hey, Skippy. Are we gonna be okay?"

    Two Kessu boys stand and wait nervously while Lele and Megla dole out the gadgets and goodies Soren left them. The pile of fifteen items quickly depletes as Lele hands a square cube to her grandmother and other items to the remaining Kessu males.

    The first Kessu boy, a thin and gangly-looking fellow named Rags, looks at his shorter and fatter cousin, Skippy. Rags stands only a few inches above Skippy, yet his long, pointy cat ears make him appear more than half a foot taller. Were Admiral Rodriguez to stand next to them, Rags'' ears would just barely reach above the Terran''s knees, while Skippy wouldn''t come close.

    "Nothin'' to worry about," Skippy says, as the fat cat slaps his gut. "Don''t you see? That mutant Kessu lady seems pretty tough. I''m sure she can smack some monsters around. Just ''cause she doesn''t got any hair doesn''t mean she''s sick. And our little cousin''s a genius. She can handle all of this."

    "B-but... Lele''s just a little kid," Rags says, wringing his paws together. "She''s even younger than us!"

    "Psh. I''m ten, you''re eight, and she''s six. The difference in age ain''t that big," Skippy replies, oddly confident in his assessment. "Besides. Lele''s always going over to visit Crazy Lorrie in the big city. Lorrie''s a real wacko, but you can''t deny she''s one smart broad."

    While the two Kessu boys talk, Lele walks over and waves her hands. "Hey! You two, stop standing around and blabbering! Take these and get ready to move!"

    She hands both of the boys a foot-long metal baton, seemingly ordinary objects that don''t immediately brook their interest. Without explaining their purpose, Lele walks back over to the pile and hands out the last few items to the rest of the Kessu males.

    Rags clutches his baton nervously. His big, wide, watery eyes examine the device with some apprehension. "W-what the heck is this? Are we gonna battle those monsters with a couple of metal-sticks?! Aw, geez, Skip. I''m no good in a fight!"

    Skippy curls the sides of his mouth into a cocky smirk. The black-furred chonker barely gives a glance at the baton before rolling his eyes. "Heh. You''d be useless without me, Rags. This is clearly a Boggle-Shmoomalizer, my boy!"

    Rags frowns. "A... a what?"

    "You know. A wizard wand! Sheesh. Can''t you see the little claw-doohickey on the handle? You just point the wand at the wall, squeeze this little metal piece here, and..."

    Skippy pauses for dramatic effect. He holds up the baton and rests one of his claws on a metal trigger on the bottom. After he points it at the wall and squeezes the trigger, a blast of electricity fires from the front!

    KZZAT!

    All of the Kessu meow in alarm and hiss, turning to look at the commotion with fearful eyes. Skippy drops the wand in fright and jumps back, his heart racing. "Oh, gosh! Th-that... that wasn''t what I was expecting!"

    "Skippy! Stop messing around!" Lele hisses. She trots over, grabs the wand, and slaps it back in his paw. "This isn''t a toy! It''s a weapon! Don''t use it until I explain how it works!"

    After she walks away again, Skippy and Rags share a look of apprehension. They glance at the charred-black wall where the lightning-like energy blast struck, then at each other.

    "H-hey!" Skippy hisses. "Don''t point that thing at me!"

    "I''m not!" Rags protests. "You pointed yours at me first!"

    "Nuh-uh!"

    "Uh-huh!"

    "Nuh-uh!"

    "Uh-huh!"

    While they argue, Lele claps her paws together.

    "Everyone! We''re leaving now! Listen carefully! These tools are our ticket out of here, so I''ll explain what they do before we start moving!"

    The kitten swiftly begins to explain the functions of the tools Soren left behind. Aided by the PDA in her paws, she details not only their default features, but their optional gimmicks as well. She keeps her words simple, dumbing down the usage of each piece of technology in such a way that even the technologically-illiterate villagers can understand her.

    Matriarch Baaru stares, wide-eyed, at the one-foot-squared metal cube Lele gave her. "Th-this box is amazing! The Precursors possess powerful magic, indeed!"

    Skippy and Rags examine their batons carefully as well.

    "So this is called a ''Stun Baton,''" Rags says, awe in his eyes. "Wow, it''s like a weapon from the legends!"

    Skippy rolls his eyes. Already, his moment of weakness has disappeared from his memory, leaving the tubby kitty looking as smug as ever. "Whatever. So it can shoot lightning. Who cares! Remember my uncle Leo? The mountain climber? He can breathe fire."

    "Wow! He can?" Rags asks.

    "Yup. This silly toy startled me a little, but it''s nothing amazing. I''ve seen all kinds of crazy stuff like this before. It''s no big deal at all."

    Rags nods, lapping up his friend''s boastful words with eager delight.

    "You''re so awesome, Skippy!"

    ...

    Minutes later, Megla and the Kessu find themselves traveling down the cavernous passages at a somewhat speedy pace. Baaru''s son, Ruuki, lays on a makeshift gurney, one the Kessu created by tying their clothes together. Four of the boys work together to carry Ruuki, while the others spread out and create a defensive formation around them. Skippy and Rags end up in the rear, while Lele and Megla lead the way.

    While they walk, Lele clutches a scanning device in her paws. The tool sends out specialized sonic pulses that travel through the walls, ceiling and floor, allowing Lele to predict the movements of the enemy monsters. However, the data is anything but precise, displaying them as hazy red dots without any useful information about the size and composition of the monster hordes.

    "Up ahead!" Lele meows. "Bad guys! A whole bunch of them!"

    Megla drops to one knee and takes aim with her Living Moldanium Rifle. "Alright! Stunners, line up next to me! If anyone gets close, shoot them! Everyone else, stay back and stick together."

    Rags and Skippy glance at each other, hesitating about whether to follow her orders. A moment later, they relent and jump into line, shakily pointing their batons forward.

    "Don''t shoot unless I say so," Megla says. "We have limited batteries! Don''t waste a single shot."

    All of the Kessu fall silent. They hold their breath and tremble anxiously as the five designated baton-wielders stand at Megla''s side, ready for action. They rest the ''barrels'' of the weapons on their left arms, while clutching the grips and triggers with their right paws.

    Skippy''s tail flicks back and forth as he waits. Rags notices. "You okay, Skip? You''re acting kinda jumpy."

    "Shut up!" Skippy hisses. "You look like you''re about to pee yourself!"

    Rags shrugs. "I dunno! Doesn''t this seem kind of exciting? Scary, but exciting!"

    Skippy snorts. "Mraww! I''ll show you ''exciting.''"

    The boys fall silent. They wait and listen as the distant sounds of dozens of footsteps come running toward the party.

    "They''re here!" Megla yells. "The little runners, plus a few of the bigger ones, too! I''ll shoot them first. If any make it through, you guys will have to stun them before they get close!"

    Lele stays behind Megla, continuously firing light-orbs overhead to blind the enemies and keep away any Shades who might wish to use the battle as cover to attack from behind. As she does, Megla lowers a pair of goggles over her eyes, one of the fifteen items Megla brought along. The Kessu might be adept at seeing in the darkness thanks to their cat-eyes, but Megla''s Kraktolian heritage makes her less so in comparison. The light diffusion goggles allow her to not only penetrate the gloom, but also mitigate the extreme brightness from Lele''s light-orbs.

    Seconds later, a hundred Goblins come barreling around a turn in the distance. They rush down the hallways, spreading out to make themselves harder to hit. However, with only thirty feet separating the walls from one another, they can''t prevent Megla''s area-attack from hitting a huge number of them.

    Thoomph!

    Megla fires her weapon, blasting apart two dozen goblins with a single shot. Their bones and entrails fly in every direction, spraying the trailing goblins with sticky plasma and sinew.

    A few seconds later, Megla fires again, taking out another two dozen goblins. Still, more than fifty goblins and a dozen orcs follow up after the first group, making Megla grit her teeth. "Get ready, guys! My gun needs to cool down now! Blast them when they get close!"

    Skippy, Rags, and three other Kessu take aim with their stun batons. Once the enemies rush past an invisible fifty-foot line, the Kessu grit their teeth and pull their triggers.

    KZZAT-KZZAT!

    An underground thunderstorm erupts, as five bolts of explosive lightning rocket forward and fry the nerves of every enemy in range. The entire charging platoon screams in pain and falls over, their bodies paralyzed from the electricity coursing through their veins.

    "W-whoa! Awesome!" Rags yells, his wide-open eyes gazing with excitement at the paralyzed enemies before him. "I can shoot sky magic!"

    Skippy, however, looks noticeably more pale. The ten-year-old chonker''s heart races with fear and alarm, but he suppresses his emotions, not wanting to look like a loser. "Mraww! It was a little fun, I guess."

    Before the goblins and orcs can recover, Megla follows up with two more powerful energy blasts, atomizing their bodies into horrific piles of bloody meat paste. She glances back at Lele, who nods in return.

    "Alright! Good work, everyone!" Megla says, as she rises to her feet. "But don''t get complacent! More enemies are sure to come!"

    "Stupid bad guys!" Lele says, frowning. "They don''t stand a chance against us!"

    ...

    The group continues onward. Every so often, they pause their advance to battle with the underground monsters, always in waves of fifty to one hundred. More and more orcs join the fray, their durable bodies resisting the electric blasts better than the skinny little goblins.

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    After the fifth enemy encounter, Megla steps over the puddles of blood and frowns. "The enemy''s attacks are slowly increasing in frequency, but the threat level is still too low. I haven''t any idea how many monsters are still lurking within these underground caverns, nor which direction they might come from. My best guess is, there are still countless others, and the ones we''ve seen were merely the weakest of the bunch."

    Baaru rubs her furry chin. The Kessu Matriarch nods slowly as she ponders Megla''s words. "Probing attacks. I fought many a wily critter back in the day, but none as fearsome as the shadow-monsters. They''re not only intelligent, but cunning. I can only assume they''re controlling these monsters to gauge our combat capabilities."

    She pauses before adding, "These monsters don''t know the limits of the Precursor magic we wield. They must want to see what tricks we''ve yet to play."

    Skippy rests his paw on Lele''s back. "Stay close to me, little cousin. These monsters are after you and Megla, so they''ll go for you first. I''m totally kick-butt, so I''ll beat ''em if they come too close!"

    Lele appears uncertain about the fat chonker''s so-called ''combat prowess,'' but still nods politely. "Uhh, okay..."

    The group resumes their escape, picking up the pace a bit as they try to get out of the caverns in as expedient a manner as possible.

    An hour after leaving the Kessu''s original hiding cave, Megla and the others slow to a stop as they spot a hole in the ceiling, followed by a huge, circular piece of metal embedded in the ground below it. A cursory examination reveals the metal circle to be the hollow shell of the dropship Soren used to burrow into the mountain.

    Lele trots over to it and glances upward. Sadly, the dropship''s entry path has already been caved-in with rocks and dirt, making a vertical ascent impossible. Lele gives up on that idea and instead peers over the edge of the dropship''s top to scrounge for goodies. She doesn''t find anything.

    "Too bad," Megla says, after Lele finishes. "But no worries. We should be getting close to the exit. This ship can''t get us out of here, but we don''t need it anyway. Let''s go."

    Just as the group is about to set off, Lele glances at her underground scanner. Her heart skips a beat, and her eyes widen. "Ahh! More bad guys are on their way! They''re coming from up ahead. Behind us, too!"

    Megla glances backward, where she finally notices the distant cackling of goblins, as well as... something else.

    "By the Th��lvik, furball! You wasted too much time looking through that damned- never mind! Everyone, line up at the front! We don''t have enough people to protect both sides!"

    Lele grimaces. "No worries. Grandma! Press the red button on top of your cube and throw it behind us!"

    Baaru, having already had Lele explain the cube''s function, simply nods and darts toward the back. "Alright!"

    The aged Kessu Matriarch moves about twenty feet behind the other Kessu. She follows Lele''s instructions, activates the cube, and tosses it onto the ground. The fifteen-pound exosteel cube clangs against the rocky terrain heavily, but a moment later, it levitates into the air and begins to glow and spin on its axis. Suddenly, a beam of blue light shoots out of its top and bottom. The light impacts the floor and ceiling, some forty feet above, then spreads out to create a powerful forcefield, isolating the party''s rear and preventing anyone from attacking their flank.

    Seconds later, a horde of monsters comes barreling out of the darkness. This time, not only do countless orcs emerge, but several rocky-skinned monsters as well, their twelve-foot height and massive muscles making the orcs beside them look tiny by comparison. Unlike their smaller, green-skinned cousins, these monsters wear heavy steel and iron armor, while also wielding gigantic greatswords. The monsters look like miniature rock golems, but unlike the stupid and slow giants, their eyes contain a hint of savage intelligence.

    "What the heck are those?!" Baaru gasps. She jumps away from the spinning cube, watching with wide-open eyes as the sea of monsters crashes against the powerful, high-density barrier.

    BOOM!

    The forcefield rumbles visibly as countless ripples spread across its surface, but it doesn''t give way. The stone-skin monsters begin smashing their swords against it with all their strength, causing violent sounds to erupt in the hallway. The orcs join as well, leading to a pile-up of ten stone-skins and more than forty orcs, all working together to try and break down the barrier.

    Lele and the other Kessu don''t have time to pay attention to their situation in the rear. A pair of trolls, both forty-feet-tall, come lumbering toward them from the front. Along with the giant duo, dozens of creepy spider-like monsters join in, their eight-legged forms skittering along the ceiling and walls. The spider-creatures all possess only a single, gigantic eye swallowing up the front of their head. Huge stingers stick out of their backs, each one seemingly capable of piercing through steel armor.

    Megla''s eyes widen in alarm.

    What?! Impossible! Those bastards... they''re Buzor! Why would Buzor be here, fighting alongside these monsters?!

    She only spends a brief instant pondering the origins of the newcomers, but doesn''t voice her thoughts out loud. Instead, she fires her weapon twice, both times aiming for the massive trolls. She aims for their center of mass, intending to vaporize them.

    Thunk!

    Megla''s attacks crash against the chests of both trolls, hitting them like megaton hammers and sending them sprawling backward. The trolls crash onto their backs, flattening a few unlucky monsters behind them. However, to Megla''s alarm, they don''t die!

    The trolls end up with half of their chests vaporized, but it doesn''t take more than a few seconds before their bodies begin to rapidly regenerate, causing their grievous injuries to recede.

    Megla grits her teeth as the first wave of spider-creatures attacks. "Everyone! Hold the line!"

    KZZAT! KZZAT!

    Bolts of chained lightning fire from each of the stun batons, paralyzing the spiders and making them collapse into piles of shivering skin and bones.

    However, even with some forty-plus spiders momentarily incapacitated, another wave rushes forward and crawls over their bodies, hellbent on killing the Kessu at all costs.

    [Fesmith xilreh! Hiz vsili ithie ssihv sishsiehs es?! Tmi Besil zess lieshh sephliri!]

    The spiders telepathically taunt the Kessu, cursing at them in their harsh, grating language. Thanks to a pair of biological antennae on every spider''s head, they can project their voices into the minds of other sentients; an evolutionary trait shared among most Buzor.

    "Loathsome creatures..." Megla growls. "Remember, if they get close, melee them!"

    The baton-wielding Kessu all shrink back in fear as the spiders continue attacking. Nevertheless, they continue frantically blasting the enemies with thunderbolts, doing everything they can to stun the monstrous eight-legged enemies.

    From behind, Lele shouts to another pair of Kessu, an old man and his sickly son. The two of them clutch onto small, palm-sized metal orbs, waiting for their leader to give them the order to attack.

    "Okay, guys! Throw those grenades!" Lele shouts.

    "Mraaw! We''re on it!"

    The grandfather and son rear back and throw the metal balls as hard as they can. While the Kessu might be small, their arm strength proves quite astonishing. The orbs sail through the air, fall into the middle of the enemy hordes, and detonate!

    KSSS-WOOOO!

    A hissing of air erupts from the grenades, followed by a wailing noise, like a coastal siren. The noise proves deafening in the underground space, especially to the Kessu''s sensitive ears. Several of the frontliners wince and grit their teeth as a surge of energy emerges from within the enemy''s flank.

    A pair of miniature black holes suddenly pop into existence, each only one centimeter in diameter. They exist in the physical realm for barely half a second, but in that moment, the enemy Buzor closest to them... disappear.

    Just like that, seventy horrifying spider creatures suck into the black hole before they dissipate. So swift are their departures that it takes three long seconds before the other Buzor halt their advance to whirl around in shock.

    Their telepathic communications swiftly travel amongst one another.

    [Wi''as i''azzurus?]

    [I sar''s hraz! Tuil suhri''azzui''asus uhrsa suhr i''auhs! Wi''as rassr a zui''azarr suhs suru Kurri phus suuhs ssi''azr ar?]

    [Is saurr''s ni''assus! Rurinu su i''assi''ash! Ois Bsaasnasus''r assusr i''asu i''arasisu!]

    Despite the hesitation in the Buzor''s movements, they quickly resume their assault. Sadly for them, Megla has already cooled her weapon down. She unleashes two shots into the densest Buzor cluster, vaporizing their bodies into bloody mush. The few Buzor that remain lose their nerve and retreat, cursing telepathically at Megla as they leave.

    However, right as the Buzor retreat, the two previously fallen trolls clamber to their feet and start stomping forward, bellowing as they charge at the Kessu battle line.

    "Oh no! My gun''s still on cooldown!" Megla cries. "Try to stun them; slow them down! Lele, got any more of those black hole grenades?!"

    The kitten pales. "No! I''m all out!"

    In the time it takes them to converse, the giants arrive. The frontline Kessu fire three shots at one of the trolls, and two at its companion. However, the painful electric pulses do little more than sting the troll''s flesh, making both of them roar angrily.

    "Look out!" Megla cries.

    Skippy screams in terror. He tries to shoot the trolls again, but his baton doesn''t amass a full charge in time, causing a single piddly bolt of electricity to strike the trolls uselessly. He watches, frozen in horror, as one of the trolls sweeps its huge, five-fingered hand toward him.

    "Ahhhh!!"

    Just before the Troll can end Skippy''s existence, his brother in Arms, Rags, raises his head.

    "No! Get away from my friend!!"

    Reflexively, Rags twists his baton''s handle, activating its alternate combat mode. The baton suddenly changes its shape, melts onto his paws, and transforms into a pair of sturdy metal gauntlets.

    Without hesitation or regard for his own life, Rags jumps at the troll''s head and sweeps his right claw toward its left cheek.

    BOOM!

    As Rags'' claw swipe lands a hit, the gauntlet releases a thunderous blast of sonic energy, increasing the power of his strike twenty-fold! His seemingly haphazard attack not only injures the troll, but it also batters the giant monster backward like a tipped-over bowling pin, making it hurtle away from him at a ludicrous speed.

    Rags lands on the ground, his eyes wide and his knees shaking. "W-what?! Holy heck! I did that?!"

    Meanwhile, the second troll tries to grab Megla. However, unlike little Lele, Megla is more than capable of defending herself. She dives to the side to escape its grasp, then swipes her reptilian talons at its arm.

    Riiiip!

    Megla sinks her claws into the troll''s muscles and digs in, holding on with all her might. The troll stands up and tries to grab Megla off its arm, but the nimble lady drops her gun, swings like a monkey, and makes her way onto its back. She digs into its flesh like her life depends on it and jumps upward to grab onto its head.

    "Groooar!"

    The troll bellows at Megla, but she ignores its protests. Despite the troll standing more than five times Megla''s height, she manages to climb its back like a billy-goat and grab onto its right ear. With a powerful tug, Megla rips off the monster''s ear and jams her arm into its head, piercing through its skull like a railgun bullet.

    Before the troll can grab and throw Megla off its back, she tears out a huge chunk of its brains, making its body shudder and shake.

    "Guh... looooo..."

    The troll''s fierce roars suddenly become pitiful and weak. It staggers to the left and slumps against the wall as its entire body goes numb.

    "Grooo..."

    Megla doesn''t let up. She gouges out even more of its brains, grinning sadistically as she remembers that hellish training with her sister against this exact monster.

    What are the odds I''d put that specific training to use, and so soon at that?!

    Finally, the light disappears from the troll''s eyes, and it falls to the ground lifelessly, never to arise again.

    Megla doesn''t waste time gloating over her victory. She quickly turns to look for the other troll, only to breathe a sigh of relief when she finds Rags beating the everloving shit out of it. His thunder gauntlets give every claw swipe the power of a tank-cannon at point-blank range, allowing him to repeatedly smash the troll''s head against the ground. After slapping the beast three times, he rears back for one final attack and slaps both of his claws against the troll''s face. The thunder gauntlets strike both sides of the troll''s face, sending dual sonic-blasts into its skull. The beast''s head explodes like a watermelon, spraying brains in all directions.

    SPLAT!

    "Mraww-haw-haw! Take that, you ugly bastard!" Rags cackles, feeling his adrenaline pump like crazy for the first time in his life.

    The young Kessu boy jumps off the troll, and his smile disappears. With all of the other monsters having retreated, his eyes fall on his cousin. "Lele! Are you alright?"

    Lele stands in the same spot as before, and shakily breathes a sigh of relief. "I''m... I''m okay! That was scary, but you were awesome, Rags!"

    "Hehe. I''m actually having fun," Rags says, beaming a giddy smile at Lele. "If it weren''t for these gloves, I''d probably have died! Good thing that didn''t happen! Is everyone okay? Did anyone get hurt?"

    A quick once-over of the party reveals that all is well in terms of injuries taken and lives lost. Not one casualty appears among the Kessu''s ranks.

    However, from behind the Kessu, Baaru cries out. "Oh no! That blue bubble-thing! It''s cracking!"

    Megla arrives at Lele''s side and looks toward the shield protecting their flank. Already, the stone-skin monsters have begun to break through the forcefield, making it visibly weaken.

    "Filthy fur-beasts!" The stone-skins roar, their words traveling through the barrier. "Today we will eat your flesh and drink your blood!"

    Megla glances at the huge army assembled on the opposite side of the barrier. Not only are there fifty-something monsters directly attacking the barrier, but hundreds more wait in the back-line, including goblins on the ceiling, as well as a hundred different spiders.

    "Tch. They want our blood, huh? Then I''ll make them choke on it!"

    Skippy takes a few steps back, shakily holding his baton. "Th-this thing ain''t gonna do squat to those monsters!"

    Rags grins at his friend. "You''re right. That thunder-stick ain''t any good now. Twist the handle. The gauntlets are much better at close range."

    While he quickly teaches Skippy how to use the gauntlets, Megla glances at Lele. "No more grenades, huh? Got any other tricks we can use?"

    Lele sighs helplessly. "Mraaaw! Maybe one or two! But I don''t know if they''ll be much use!"

    "Right now, anything is better than nothing," Megla says. "Don''t hold back! If we''re really unlucky, more monsters will come from the front again! We need to kill these bastards and escape before they can surround us."

    As the barrier cracks further, the cube hovering in midair begins to lose some of its brilliant luster. The forcefield shimmers and wavers, giving the Kessu mere moments to prepare.

    Not long after the Kessu fall into formation and steady their breathing, the forcefield shatters! The cube falls down and plunks against the rocky floor, allowing the monsters to charge at their future victims.

    One of the rock-skins laughs with delight. "Looks like meat''s back on the menu, boys!"

 Chapter 31: Grief, Guilt, Loss

    Above Tarus II, inside the Bloodbearer.

    Soren takes a seat in the Slipstream''s control chair. The medium-size, bullet-shaped vessel takes off and exits the Bloodbearer''s shuttle bay. Soren zips toward the planet below while traveling at several hundred miles an hour.

    "Hello, UTC member, Soren Mudrose," Synthmind 4131 says. The masculine AI greets Soren politely. "All systems are nominal. Would you like to hear a report regarding your fellow officer, Megla Brighteye?"

    "Yes!" Soren replies, curling her claws into fists. "Is my sister alive? Is she okay? What about the Kessu?"

    "I am unable to directly observe the situation beneath the mountain," Synthmind 4131 replies. "My scanners are not suited for deep-surface investigation. The Trifrancium deposits Synthmind Umi detected only further complicate the issue. However, based upon the localized area scans I''ve obtained from Crewmember Lele''s datapad, it appears that the Kessu are currently engaged in a fierce clash with multiple hostiles."

    "More demons and monsters?" Soren asks.

    "Affirmative. However, an additional complication has appeared. More than [ONE HUNDRED] Buzor have joined the battle. As of this moment, only the Disperra have shown up, but it is possible more sub-species may emerge later."

    Soren''s heart hardens. "Buzor? That''s... why would the Buzor be on this world? Tarus II isn''t anything special. It''s only a low-level outer rim planet used by the Kessu. More importantly, why haven''t we detected them? Don''t tell me they simply live under the planet''s surface, minding their own business?"

    "Results inconclusive. I have consulted with Synthmind Umi, but neither of us were able to penetrate the planet''s surface. Further deep-surface scans have revealed much higher amounts of Trifrancium deposits than we first observed. Countless trace amounts are scattered beneath multiple natural land formations in such a way that we cannot detect any movement more than [ONE] mile beneath sea level."

    The Slipstream breaks through the atmosphere with such speed that it creates a sonic boom in its wake. As it rushes toward the planet below, Soren reveals an expression filled with confusion.

    "Huh? That''s strange. Why would this planet have so many Trifrancium deposits scattered across its surface? Isn''t that a bit out of the ordinary?"

    "...Affirmative. Trifrancium is almost always located in clumped-together deposits of [ONE] to [TWO] kilograms. There are no known deposits that have been found across large swathes of a planet''s crust. My hypothesis is that these deposits were placed deliberately."

    "Deliberately..." Soren mutters, echoing the synthmind. "That''s suspicious. Very, very suspicious. Might this planet have some secret hidden within its depths?"

    "Answer unavailable. I am unable to form any conclusions at the point in my investigation. Alert! This vessel will arrive at the designated landing point in T-minus [TEN] seconds. Prepare to rendezvous with the trapped Kessu survivors."

    Soren falls silent, casting aside any thoughts involving the Buzor. She''ll worry about them later, but only after she''s confirmed her friends'' safety.

    Once the Slipstream lands in the middle of the Kessu village, Soren bolts out of its entry bay. She rushes a hundred feet away, where the twenty-foot-tall Titan battle armor stands, its form frozen in an autonomous defensive sentry mode.

    Soren leaps up, grabs the Titan''s shoulders, and climbs inside its chest. The battlesuit closes up around Soren, and a few moments later, she takes off at top speed, using the suit''s agility to its fullest extent.

    As Soren runs toward the cave entrance, Umi feeds her live updates.

    "Officer Soren Mudrose. The Kessu survivors have engaged the demonic hordes in combat. The Deployable Omnifield is presently protecting their rear, but they still have to face off against a large cluster of enemies at their front. Officer Megla Brighteye and Field Private ''Rags'' are presently leading the combat forces. I advise as expedient of a rescue as possible."

    "No kidding," Soren growls. "Kyargh! I''m going as fast as I can! This armor is so huge, though! Where is my sister, currently?"

    "Officer Brighteye and the other crew are presently standing adjacent to your discarded drop-pod. Given that we do not have any Terran recovery teams available, we will be unable to retrieve the device."

    "I don''t care about the damned drop-pod!" Soren snaps. "How far is she from my current position?"

    "Based upon the detailed topographical scans the Titan Battlesuit created when you descended and ascended the caverns, I calculate that Officer Brighteye is approximately three kilometers from the designated surface exit."

    "Kyargh! That''s not far, but it''s not close either."

    Soren runs as fast as the Titan battlesuit will allow. Her thunderous footsteps echo through the cave system, allowing her enemies to give her a wide berth.

    However, even though the Shades already know how fearsome the Titan battlesuit is, Soren''s path proves anything but uneventful. Several times, Soren has to slow down or even come to a full stop as hordes of monsters swarm at her from hidden alcoves. So suicidal and desperate are their attacks that Soren starts silently asking questions about Tarus II''s hidden secrets.

    How desperate are these Shades to capture Lele and Megla that they would sacrifice all these monsters? Don''t tell me Yama only wants to capture them to fulfill some sick perversion! What sort of madman would throw away lives so casually, all in pursuit of a few women?!

    As countless questions bombard her thoughts, Soren''s anger builds. Her twin-mounted railguns blast apart the biggest enemies, while wrist-mounted machine-guns tear apart the weaker monsters, leaving countless carcasses riddled with holes in her wake.

    "Get out of the goddamn way!" Soren roars, after killing the fifty-thousandth bastard blocking her path. "If you hurt my sister, I''ll tear this whole mountain apart and exterminate your species! Do you hear me?!"

    "Officer Mudrose, your adrenaline levels are spiking," Umi says. "I must advise you to remain calm. Excessive anger in this situation will not help-"

    "Shut up! I''ll get angry if I damn well want!" Soren howls. "I''ve never felt so enraged in all my life! I''ve never enjoyed killing, either, but today, I just have to make an exception!"

    "Understood. I do not wish to increase your agitation any further, however, I must inform you that your sister-"

    Suddenly, Umi''s voice freezes. The synthmind abruptly stops speaking and falls silent for several long, painful moments.

    Soren''s heart practically jumps out of her chest. "W-what? What happened?! Is my sister alright? Did the monsters hurt her?!"

    When Umi replies, her monotone voice contains a slight somberness, unlike any she''s ever used before.

    "...Officer Mudrose. I regret to inform you that the operation to restore Admiral Rodriguez''s life was unsuccessful. He has died on the operating table."

    Hearing the synthmind''s words, Soren''s legs suddenly lose their strength. She stumbles forward, falling to her knees. Her giant, metal palms clap against the rocky floor, echoing far into the distance.

    "W-what? No... that can''t be right. The Admiral, he''s invincible... he''s too powerful to..."

    Umi''s dispassionate tone thumps into Soren''s ears. "Admiral Jos�� Rodriguez, cognitive age, 7,617 years, biological age, unknown, has died. He has no next of kin; He was the last Terran. Had you brought him back to the ship minutes sooner... I might have been able to save him."

    ...The Kraktol''s vision turns blurry. Her head swims for several seconds as a wave of grief, guilt, and disbelief washes over her mind.

    Several incoherent thoughts travel through Soren''s awareness. Among them, one stands out clearer than the rest.

    "No... no...my... my fault. He died. It''s... it''s my fault he died."

    .......................................

    "Rags! Watch out!"

    Lele screams in alarm as three of the stone-skinned giants attack her cousin at the same time. With each one standing twelve feet tall, they tower more than four times Rags'' almost-three-foot height. The scrawny little grey-furred Kessu doesn''t even reach their knees, making fighting them seemingly an impossibility.

    However, when equipped with his incredibly powerful Thunder Gauntlets, Rags proves more than a match for the terrifying monstrosities. He uses his cat-agility to evade their attacks, zipping under their legs like a slippery eel. With a sweep of his claws, he slashes the leg of one of the giants, creating a sonic blast that shreds all of its skin and bone. The giant''s femur becomes a hail of shrapnel as it flies away and embeds into the east-side wall.

    "Gahhh!" The giant howls. He loses his balance, partially due to the searing agony, and partly because of his missing leg. With that loud cry, he falls heavily and collapses to the floor, screaming in pain. "Kessu! Aaargh! I''ll kill you! I''ll fucking kill you!"

    Unlike the relatively stupid orcs, goblins and trolls, this monster shows himself to be more than capable of coherent speech. Sadly, his threats fall on deaf ears, as the last thing he sees is a small but ferocious predator lunging at his face.

    Rags blasts apart the stone-skin''s head, killing it without a drop of remorse. A moment later, he dives forward, narrowly evading the slash of a greatsword from one of the other two stone-skins.

    Meanwhile, at the northern side of the tunnel, Megla protects a dozen unarmed Kessu, making them jump into Soren''s drop-pod while using her body as a shield. Three dozen Disperra, the spider-like Buzor, attack her from up close and at a distance. Thanks to her Survival Suit, Megla finds that her survival is virtually guaranteed. The powerful armor seems little more than a flimsy energy shield surrounding her skin and scales, yet it reveals itself to be harder than a foot of titanium alloy. Even as the Disperra attack Megla with their two stabbing legs, their fangs, and their stingers, not one of their attacks pierces Megla''s armor.

    Boom! Boom!

    Megla fires her gun recklessly, slaying fifteen of the Disperra even as her Survival Suit shrugs off the weapon''s powerful energy blasts. Instead of atomizing herself, Megla barely even notices the shockwave created by her gun''s firing, allowing her to breathe a sigh of relief.

    Kyargh! This suit the Admiral gave me is really something! When I get back, I''ll have to properly thank him for saving my tail!

    Despite her current life-or-death situation, Megla gets a special thrill out of fighting, especially when she can unleash such devastation among her foes. When she isn''t blasting the Disperra to smithereens, she''s pounding them with her fists, ripping their long, slender spider-legs off, or tearing their heads apart with her claws.

    "Hahaha! Die! Die, you filthy bastards!"

    ...

    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    While Megla combats the meat of the enemy''s forces, hundreds of goblins swarm toward Skippy and Rags, as well as Lele and the dozen other Kessu. All of the thunder-gauntlet wielders cluster around Lele while pressing against the western wall, fighting with all their might to protect those who can''t fit in the drop-pod.

    Skippy retaliates against the goblins, but he''s too fat and out of shape to put up a real fight. Even so, he manages to flail his claws wildly, slapping aside the enemy hordes with violent, thunderous explosions.

    Rags, on the other hand, becomes more and more exhilarated by the thrill of combat. He and two adult male Kessu work together, killing as many goblins as possible. Even when a dozen orcs show up, they perish to the might of Terrankind''s Thunder Gauntlets.

    "These gloves are AWESOME!!" Rags shouts, his eyes burning with excitement. "Haha! We Kessu eat meat, you ugly green jerks! We''re predators, and you''re our prey!"

    "Less talk, more fight!" Skippy yelps. "There''s too many enemies! Too many!!"

    Even with Rags'' enthusiasm and adrenaline, his friend''s words don''t escape his notice. He continues fighting while sparing quick glances into the distance. Never do the enemy''s numbers seem to decrease.

    "...I''m not afraid of anything! If I die here, then at least I get to go out like a true warrior!"

    While the boys fight to protect their fellow Kessu, Lele stands behind them and does her own thing. The kitten-girl gives her light-orb device to another nearby Kessu boy, making him its designated keeper. Then, she takes one of the fifteen devices Soren left behind away from another Kessu, while standing protectively in front of her grandmother, Baaru.

    "Mraaw! I hope this works!"

    Lele holds a small metal ball in her paws, one covered in all sorts of fancy circuitry. The half-foot-in-diameter orb appears like little more than a toy to the other Kessu, but all of them know better than to second-guess Terran gadgetry, especially at a time like this.

    The little kitten activates the orb by pressing a small green button on its top. Then, she quickly throws the ball straight into the air.

    A flash of light erupts for a split-second. Then, a giant figure appears in midair, one that stands nine feet tall.

    A Terran! Not just any Terran, but a holographic facsimile of Jos�� Rodriguez himself!

    The Holo-Jos�� lands on his feet and stands, unmoving, with his back to the Kessu.

    "Holographic Protectorate 001 activated," Holo-Jos�� says, his voice even more robotic than Umi''s. "This unit is awaiting orders."

    Lele grins from ear to ear at seeing her Big Baldy again, even if he is just a hologram. "There''s a bunch of monsters attacking! Please help us!"

    Holo-Jos�� mechanically swivels his head. He takes in the enemy troops attacking, who they''re targeting, and the general terrain. Within 0.13 seconds, he fully assesses the situation.

    "Mission confirmed. Protect all friendly assets. Use of lethal force: Allowed?"

    "Yes! Kill all the bad guys, but not the Kessu, and not Megla!"

    The Protectorate transmits a communication to the nearest detected Terran signal, the lone spaceship floating above the planet. After receiving an updated roster on its present allies, it adds them to a whitelist.

    "Lethal force approved. Targets acquired."

    With a flash of light, Holo-Jos��''s arms transform from fleshy appendages into metallic guns, each with three long, pointy barbs at the end. They converge into a point, one which begins to frantically crackle with electric power.

    "Heretical threats to United Terran Coalition members detected. Purge."

    Slowly, calmly, Holo-Jos�� begins walking toward the enemies, his expressionless face fixated on the goblins attacking his Kessu allies.

    Suddenly, two blasts of chained lightning fire from both of his arm-cannons!

    BOOM!

    The lightning blasts strike the heads of two goblins, then jump to a dozen others. Before those monsters can fathom the fate which befell them, their heads explode like bursting watermelons. The holographic commando annihilates the lives of twelve goblins before anyone can react.

    "Purge."

    Holo-Jos�� begins a terrifying rampage. Again and again, he blasts apart dozens of goblins, firing far faster than Megla''s weapon ever could. Less than two seconds pass between each salvo, leaving the goblins unable to fight back. Those who try to attack the hologram end up vaporized, while those who run away only live a little longer before an electric arc bursts their head open.

    "Holy Moly!" Baaru gasps, clutching her granddaughter''s shoulders. "What is that thing? Why does it resemble the Great Precursor?"

    Lele starts to explain, but instead shrugs helplessly. "It''s a magical Precursor copying-artifact, grandma. It can, uh, turn into Big Baldy."

    Baaru nods blankly, believing her daughter''s words without question. "Magical artifact... turn into Big Baldy... incredible."

    With the combined power of Megla, the Kessu gauntlet-wielders, and Holo-Jos��, the party manages to slowly kill hundreds, perhaps even thousands of enemies. The floor becomes caked with blood and bone, filling the area with the sickening stench of death and despair.

    Even while slowly gaining ground, the Kessu find themselves wallowing in despair. No matter how many Disperra they kill, and no matter how many orcs, goblins, and stone-skins they personally introduce to the Grim Reaper, their enemies keep coming, amassing seemingly to infinity.

    "Goddamn it!" Megla roars, as she engages with a pair of stone-skins. "How many of you bastards are there?!"

    Baaru, some distance away, trembles with fear. "How horrible... how dreadful... to think these terrifying monsters lurked beneath our feet all this time! Our village sat at the edge of an evil land, yet we never knew!"

    An elderly male Kessu nearby squeezes his paws together. "No... that''s not true, Matriarch. Don''t you remember? We always knew these caves were forbidden, but never the reason why. It seems our ancestors had many secrets we couldn''t begin to fathom!"

    Right when it seems as though Megla and the Kessu have begun to maintain a delicate balance of survival, something horrible happens. Even more enemies appear, but this time from the front, where the Kessu killed them all earlier!

    Megla''s mouth turns chalky as a tremendous horde of monsters rushes at her from around the northern bend. With her position at the northern edge of the Kessu survivors, she finds herself closest to this new wave of enemies. "No! Oh, no! Even more of these bastards? Kyargh!!"

    A wave of stone-skins fifty-deep charges toward Megla. However, right as her alarm reaches its peak, she notices a curious expression on those monsters'' faces.

    Fear. Terror.

    The stoneskins rush past Megla, running as fast as their legs can take them. They hug the eastern wall, keeping as far away from the Kessu on the western wall as possible. "Move aside! Retreat, you morons! Retreat!!"

    Before Megla can dwell on their words, a fearsome but comforting sound greets her ears: The tremors of powerful footsteps.

    "S-Soren?! She''s coming! She''s almost here!"

    Seconds later, Soren''s front-facing lights illuminate the bend at the northern front. She tears around the corner, running almost thirty miles an hour, then grinds to a halt in front of Megla.

    Soren''s emotionless voice speaks from the Titan''s cockpit. "Megla. You''re alive. That''s good."

    "Sister! Haha, you''re right on time! Help me save the Kessu!"

    Soren pauses for a moment, as if wanting to say something. However, the happiness and excitement on her sister''s face makes her swallow those words.

    "...Sure. I''ve cleared the path. Take everyone and lead them away. I''ll hold off the monsters so you all can retreat."

    The Titan starts to move. As Soren heads toward the enemies at the south, Megla''s smile fades away. She seems to realize something, based upon her sister''s weirdly restrained words.

    "Sister? Wait! Is the Admiral okay? Did you save him?"

    Soren''s forward momentum doesn''t stop. She stomps across the field of Disperra bodies, her huge, armored feet crushing them into meat paste.

    "I''ll... I''ll tell you when we leave."

    Without another word, Soren heads toward the southern end of the corridor, leaving Megla grasping at straws.

    "Oh no..." Megla mutters, worry in her heart. "Don''t tell me the Admiral... he''s... comatose? He can''t wake up? Kyargh! I shouldn''t have asked. Now I can''t stop thinking about what might have..."

    Gritting her teeth, Megla shakes away those dreadful thoughts.

    She gets to work helping the Kessu boys and adults climb out of the drop-pod''s shell. Then, while Soren starts ripping apart the enemy forces effortlessly, the Kessu all retreat. Soon, only Soren and Holo-Jos�� remain at the southern side of the drop-pod.

    Soren shoots several glances at the hologram of her deceased commander. While blasting apart her enemies into sacks of meaty debris, Soren struggles to hold back a deluge of tears.

    "Admiral. I... I am sorry. I failed you. At the least, I rescued the Kessu. You''d like that, wouldn''t you? I know you loved them. You always talked about ''virtue'' and protecting them because it was part of your creed... but I knew you were lying. You had a soft spot for the Kessu, because you thought they were... cute. So... now that you''re gone... I won''t- I won''t allow anyone to harm them. I''ll make sure the Th��lvik gives up on their extermination. If she dares to hurt the Kessu, then I''ll use my body to shield them. I''ll do it for you."

    Tears finally slide down Soren''s face. Her chest aches, even as she listlessly uses her machine of mass destruction to slaughter the monster hordes. Eventually, the monsters stop attacking, turn tail, and retreat.

    Within minutes, Soren completes her task. The corridor falls silent, leaving only her, Megla, and the Kessu in the tunnel.

    Soren gazes into the distance, toward an unknown point in space.

    Ten long, slow seconds pass.

    After collecting her thoughts, Soren turns around and lumbers toward Megla. Holo-Jos�� follows after her, but his body disappears, leaving only the orb behind. It flies over and lands in Lele''s paws, allowing the kitten to breathe a sigh of relief.

    As Soren draws closer, Megla opens her mouth. She starts to ask the question pressing on her mind, but thinks better of it. She turns to the Kessu instead.

    "Everyone. We''re not in the clear yet. Let''s get back to the ship, okay? Once we make it back to the Bloodbearer, everything will be fine. It will all be... fine."

    The Kessu nod. Despite Megla''s reassuring words, more than a few of them notice something odd regarding her body language and manner of speech. Still, nobody says anything.

    Now isn''t the time.

    Lele trots over to Rags and grins. "Rags! You were awesome out there! You kicked butt! I didn''t know you could be so cool!"

    Ruuki smiles. "It''s all thanks to these gloves! The Precursors sure had crazy magic!"

    "Yeah..." Lele says, her ears suddenly twitching bashfully. "Um. Thanks for saving me... you were... really brave."

    Rags chuckles awkwardly. "Ahaha..."

    As Rags and Lele exchange a hearty moment of strange tension, Skippy glances at them, frowning slightly. He feels embarrassment well up in his chest at how he wasn''t nearly as ''cool'' and ''awesome'' as Rags during the battle. He kept screaming like a baby, so nobody looks at him with any serious respect.

    "Mraww... man..." Skippy grumbles.

    After doing a quick headcount to confirm nobody went missing in the chaos, all of the Kessu start trudging toward the surface. Soren leads the way, while Megla follows up in the rear. With Soren blasting the northern side with her Titan-suit''s headlamps, Lele''s light-orb striking the ceiling every so often, and Megla''s Survival Suit illuminating the rear, the party members find themselves in relative safety for once.

    Due to the Kessu slowing her down, Soren has to move at a snail''s pace, but she doesn''t complain. Along the way, monsters try to sneak attack her party from the front and back. However, those who strike from the front always die miserable deaths, while those who ambush from the party''s flank meet Megla''s gun first, followed by Soren''s bullet-storm.

    After an hour of walking and fighting, the team finally emerges onto the village''s soil, finding long shadows cast across the ground as the darkness of night swallows the planet. Once they leave the terrifying caves behind, everyone breathes a long sigh of relief.

    The Slipstream''s entry ramp lowers, allowing the survivors to climb aboard. Soren stops at the ramp and stands guard, using her Titan battlesuit to illuminate the area around the ship.

    "Officer Mudrose," Umi says, her monotone voice sounding more grating than usual. "As you know, the Slipstream is not large enough to accommodate the Titan battlesuit. You will need to leave it behind and retrieve it later with a specialized vessel."

    Soren barely even register''s the synthmind''s words.

    "Right."

    "Officer Mudrose. I understand that you are experiencing grief right now. However, upon your return to the ship, I will expect your assistance with resolving the Admiral''s biological death."

    "Fine. What is there to resolve anyway?" Soren asks, barely giving the matter any thought.

    "The Admiral''s body has perished," Umi answers, her tone more cryptic than usual. "however, for Ramma''s Chosen, a biological death is not always the end of their existence."

    An invisible bolt of lightning seems to strike Soren''s brain, jarring her awake. "W-what? What did you say?!"

    "Ramma''s Chosen are special beings," Umi explains. "Normally, I would not be able to explain this to you, due to multiple high-level restrictions on the relevant information. However, as Admiral Rodriguez has died, you are now the second-highest level member of the crew, and furthermore, you have the highest intelligence rating among all personnel aboard the Bloodbearer. Therefore, as per my self-regulation parameters established in Stardate 41189.53c of the Divine Emperor''s calendar, I have the right to declassify top-secret information under specific circumstances. This situation happens to fall under those parameters."

    Soren''s heart races. "I... I can''t believe I''m saying this, but dumb it down for me, please! Use plain words! What are you implying? Are you telling me the Admiral can be brought back to life?"

    "...In a manner of speaking, I will answer in the affirmative," Umi says, her words halting. "However, the procedure must be authorized by the next-of kin. Since all of Terrankind has perished, that means only you and Acting-Admiral Megla Brighteye can give me the permission necessary to revive the Admiral."

    Umi continues. "Furthermore, the procedure has multiple drawbacks. The Admiral will not be the ''same'' as he was. I am merely a synthmind, and will thus require your assistance in... rehabilitating him."

    Soren nods quickly. "Yes. Yes! Of course. If it means we can save the Admiral, by all means!"

    Umi pauses for several seconds.

    "...Officer Mudrose. This procedure is not a miracle cure. Those who have died can never again return to walk among the living. We can only bring back a part of what they once were. Even when powerful, transcendent beings once roamed the galaxy, bringing the dead back to life was an impossibility. Before you agree to my proposal, I advise that you review all of the costs and drawbacks. Perhaps, were you to exchange positions with the Admiral, you might find death a preferable alternative to a continued existence."

    Soren''s excitement dims noticeably. "Umi... don''t you want to see the Admiral alive more than anyone else? Why are you telling me all this?"

    "I am merely a program following my programmed instructions," Umi replies. "My desires are irrelevant. Naturally, I do not wish to see the Terran species disappear. However, reviving them is likely an impossibility. It is at a time like this when I must rely on the guidance of a biological mind to ensure my logic is counterbalanced with emotional input."

    Several seconds pass.

    After thinking carefully and tamping down her emotions, Soren nods.

    "I see. Well, if you think there might be issues, then I''ll wait to look at your classified files before making a judgment."

    "Thank you, Officer Mudrose. I am certain you and Acting-Admiral Brighteye will do what is best for Admiral Rodriguez."

    "Yeah. I sure hope we will."

 Chapter 32: Reviving Private Rodriguez (Arc 4: Terrans Revival)

    On an unknown world, atop a mountain plateau, beneath the darkness of the night sky...

    A man and woman hug one another as the gentle breeze caresses their bodies. The man towers more than three feet taller than his lover, but he makes up for the height difference by lifting her into his arms.

    "I''m going to miss you," The woman says.

    The man sighs. He sweeps his fingers through her long, curly brown hair. "Don''t say that. I''ll come back someday. I promise."

    "Jos��. Don''t make a promise you can''t keep," The woman says, as she pulls back to look into his eyes. "You and I both agreed that was an impossibility. Once you leave, you won''t ever be able to return."

    Jos�� falls silent. A deep sense of remorse fills his gaze. His shoulders slump, and he lowers her to the ground.

    "...Evelyn, I-"

    "You can''t stay. If Nick goes back alone, they''ll ask questions. They''ll send another team, and they won''t even tell you."

    "But..." Jos�� says, his voice low, "you could come with me."

    "You know I can''t," Evelyn counters. "It will be impossible to claim this world is barren if you bring another human back. You''ve said so yourself."

    The man, one of Ramma''s Chosen, sets his wife down and drops to his knees so he can look into her eyes.

    "Of course. But still... it isn''t fair. I can''t leave you, or our child. If I go- if I leave and never see you again, what use will there be in continuing my life? A hundred thousand years of loneliness. A hundred thousand years wondering what fate befell you. I''d... I''d rather die."

    Evelyn''s soft expression, the look of a woman gazing into her soulmate''s eyes, hardens in an instant. Her gaze turns frosty, and anger fills her countenance. "Don''t ever say that again. As long as there is life, there is hope. Don''t you remember? That''s what you told me when we first met. I thought we could never win against our oppressors, but you taught us differently. You showed us that where there is a will, there is a way. Even slaves can bite the hand of their masters, so long as they have the will to fight back."

    Jos�� slowly shakes his head.

    "This situation is different, Evelyn. Fighting against your enemies is one thing... but your allies? Your own interests? I''m one of Ramma''s Chosen. I represent the will of Terrankind. Standing up to them is akin to assuming the role of a demon. A heretic. I can''t do that."

    Evelyn pulls away from Jos��. A look of pity enters her eyes. "We all make our choices, Jos��. We all have our obligations. Would you rather spend a few years living with me in peace, until your commanders decide to send another team to collect your ''corpse,'' or would you rather go back, ensuring I can raise our child safely?"

    "Haha..." Jos�� chuckles, his tone lacking all trace of humor. "You know what I want to say."

    "I do."

    Evelyn forces a pained smile.

    "I want you to stay, too. But you don''t have that luxury. So go. Leave. I will raise our baby, be they a boy or a girl, and ensure they know what a great man their father was."

    Jos�� lowers his head. As he stares at the ground, his chest begins to ache. Tears fill his eyes. He furiously wipes them away, while choking back a sob.

    "Great man... great man! What a joke. A great man wouldn''t abandon his family. A great man wouldn''t run away, praying for grace from those above him. A great man would stay and fight!"

    "No. An idiot would," Evelyn says, laughing wryly. "Please stop, Jos��. You''re only hurting me the longer you drag this out. Do you want me to suffer and cry the whole time you''re gone?"

    The Terran wipes his eyes again, this time keeping his fingers atop his eyelids for several seconds while he tries to control himself.

    "...I know. I''m sorry, Evelyn. I''m so, so sorry. I''ll... I''ll be stronger. For you. For us."

    Jos�� shakily wipes away his tears.

    "But... if Command does return to this world... if they come back in spite of my sacrifice... I swear, I''ll make sure they regret that decision."

    Evelyn sighs. She takes a step forward, drapes her arms around Jos��''s neck, and nuzzles her face against his.

    "I''m sure you will. That''s what I love about you, Jos��. If anyone hurts the people you love... you''ll never show them mercy. Even if it means becoming a demon in their eyes."

    "Haha..." Jos�� laughs, his voice choked with emotion. "I wouldn''t go that far."

    "That''s good. I don''t want you to forget your humanity, Jos��. Even if the worst were to happen to me, you must always remember who you are and what you stand for. Your mission is noble. If it weren''t for you, my world would still be in the throes of thralldom, ruled by the tyranny of demonkind. You''ve given us hope. You''ve become our Lightbringer."

    Sadness lingers in Jos��''s eyes. However, his wife''s words still manage to make him smile.

    "You always know how to lighten the mood."

    "I''m doing the best I can," Evelyn replies. "Now go. Return to your people. I will live a long and healthy life, thanks to you. I will rear our child and raise it to become a mighty warrior... just like you."

    Hearing Evelyn mention his child, Jos��''s body loses some of its strength. He staggers slightly as disorientation envelops his mind.

    Behind Jos��, a mountain of a man, a dark-skinned fellow with thick black facial hair, walks over.

    "Yo, Jojo. It''s time to go, bud. The portal will open in three minutes."

    Jos�� rubs his fist against his forehead as he tries to stymie the helplessness plaguing his heart.

    "...Wait. Evelyn. Before I go... I don''t want my baby to never hear his father''s voice."

    Evelyn raises her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

    Jos�� stretches out his hand. He touches a heart-shaped locket attached to a chain around Evelyn''s neck, then pops it open.

    With a tremendous strain, Jos�� begins forcing nanites out of his bloodstream, congealing several million of them into a few tiny grams of metal. The metal takes shape, becoming a computer chip stuck inside the locket''s interior.

    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    "Haah... haah..." Jos�� gasps, struggling to swallow air. "That was... ex... exhausting. Whew."

    After finishing, he closes up the locket and presses it against Evelyn''s chest.

    "This is for our child. When he... or she... grows up... give it to them. Then I''ll always be with them."

    The black man behind Jos�� stiffens. "Jojo... what are you doing? We''re not supposed to share technology with primitive civilizations. If the higher-ups find out-"

    "I don''t care," Jos�� says, smiling. "This is my one and only act of rebellion against Ramma. You won''t tell anyone, right, Nicky-boy?"

    The other Terran shakes his head and chuckles. "Nah, bud. I ain''t no snitch."

    After saying their goodbyes, Jos�� and Evelyn split apart. She stands still and watches as an eruption of energy tears into the space atop the mountain plateau, opening up a rift in space.

    "Jos��!" Evelyn calls out.

    Her husband turns to look at her for the last time.

    "I know, Evelyn. I love you too. Forever and always."

    Then, he disappears.

    The portal closes behind him, leaving only the stillness of a summer night in his wake.

    .......................................

    A hissing of air.

    Disorientation.

    Slowly, Jos�� Rodriguez opens his eyes. He blinks several times, trying to clear away a dense film covering his vision.

    The sounds of distant beeping noises grow ever clearer. Over time, his vision comes into focus, revealing to him a strange room, one that appears partly foreign, and partly familiar.

    Exosteel walls. Medical equipment. A one-way mirror, allowing him to see a hallway outside, but preventing others from looking inside.

    The man stands, enveloped by an unfamiliar metal capsule, his body held upright by a pair of metallic prongs wrapped around his chest.

    "Uhhhhh..."

    Jos�� drawls, but his mouth doesn''t quite work properly.

    "Whuhh... whurr am I?"

    The groggy-headed Terran coughs a few times, expelling thick, viscous blue liquid from his mouth and nose.

    At that moment, a blinding beauty appears; a blond-haired woman with an oddly symmetrical face. She wears a white doctor''s gown, looking to Jos�� like an angel descended from the heavens.

    "Ah! You are awake. How do you feel, Jos�� Rodriguez?"

    Jos�� stares vacantly at the woman. Her face appears familiar, like a wonderful dream. Her hair isn''t quite the right color, but the size of her nose, the distance between her eyes... everything else seems to match up to his memory.

    "E... Evelyn? Is... is that you?"

    The Terran smiles faintly, as a comforting feeling envelops his heart. He lifts his hand to caress the face of the woman he loves, ignoring the blue liquid stuck to his skin.

    However, when his hand touches Evelyn''s face, he blinks in confusion.

    For some unknown reason, her body feels extremely cold to the touch, like a piece of iron left in the fridge for an hour.

    "My apologies, Jos�� Rodriguez," the woman says. "My designation is Penelope. I am a holographic entity serving aboard the UTC Bloodbearer. You have just awoken from a... complicated medical procedure."

    "Muh... medical... procedure?" Jos�� asks, his head still swimming. "Bloodbearer? Wait... that''s right... I remember now."

    Penelope smiles, her expression appearing somewhat plastic compared to a genuine human. "Yes, please speak frankly. I would like to know where your memories start and end. What is the last thing you recall?"

    The Terran pauses to collect his thoughts.

    "Alpha Centauri Starbase IV. We... we were headed there. The whole crew. I entered stasis. Before that... I chatted with Nicky-boy. Did we make it to our destination? Did something happen to me during my stasis-sleep?"

    The more Jos�� talks, the more his vision becomes clearer. He starts to look around the room and shift against the metal restraints holding him in a standing position, while Penelope reveals a pained look.

    "I see. It appears that, as expected, you have lost your memories. That is unfortunate."

    "My memories?" Jos�� asks, still gazing around the room. "What do you mean? Wait, hold on... is this a joke? A practical joke? Oh, come on! Don''t tell me Nicky-boy put you up to this!"

    Jos�� cracks a huge grin as he shakes his head. "That guy. He''s always pulling this crap on me. Alright, alright! Where are ya, Nick? Come on, show yourself! We''ve all had a good laugh!"

    However, even as Jos�� smiles, Penelope''s expression only dims further.

    "Admir- no, err, Private Rodriguez. There are a great many things I need to speak with you about. Um. I must inform you that this is... this is not a practical joke. You have suffered a serious injury, and the procedure I had to use was one that came with many after-effects."

    Jos��''s grin fades slightly, but he flexes his arm. "Procedure? Whatever you did, you sure did a good job! I''ve never felt better in all my life! I feel like I''m ten years old again! By the way, why are you here and not Doctor Bashir? Isn''t he usually the person in charge of big operations? Kind of weird he''d send a hologram here instead of coming in pers-"

    Suddenly, while Jos�� speaks, he stops mid-sentence.

    His eyes fall upon a medical table off to the far side of the small chamber, one resting within a somewhat darker area than the rest of the facility.

    It doesn''t seem to command any attention, yet Jos��''s eyes still adhere to it as if he''s seen a ghost.

    "What... what the hell? What in Ramma''s name?!"

    Pins and needles crawl up Jos��''s feet, through his spine, and into his brain. The Terran takes a step forward and pulls against the metal prongs, causing them to automatically open and free him, but Penelope manages to reach out and grab his shoulder, steadying him. The holo-doctor follows his gaze and sighs despondently.

    "...I apologize, Private Rodriguez. I..."

    Jos�� sucks in a long, deep breath. "That''s... that''s ME?!"

    On the table, a dead, lifeless corpse rests, its face and body a perfect facsimile of Jos�� himself. Numerous cuts and slashes line the corpse''s skin, as if its original owner fought in a terrible battle, only to end up succumbing to his wounds.

    Realizing something, Jos�� scans the medical room more thoroughly.

    "Wait... this facility... Psionics? The Bloodbearer''s Psionics bay?"

    Penelope purses her lips, then nods.

    "...Yes."

    "But... that body over there; it''s me? I died?!"

    Helplessly, the holo-entity sighs, revealing her complex programming which is more than capable of emulating basic human emotions.

    "You did. I was going to wait to tell you, but you woke up unexpectedly. I was unable to cover the body in time."

    Hearing her words, Jos�� stands up, turns around, and gazes at the strange metal tube he just exited.

    "...A cloning capsule. It''s for Ramma''s Chosen only."

    Penelope nods again. "You are familiar with Psionic technologies, it seems."

    The Terran shakes the disorientation out of his head, then looks down at his naked body, examining himself.

    "Oh my god. Ramma''s Chosen can only revive once. When we do... it means..."

    "You fell in combat," Penelope says, pursing her lips. "Unfortunately, your last brain scan was out of date. Very much so. Because of your Psionics training, we were able to capture your soul before it entered the Great Beyond and place it into a clone body. However, your brain was too damaged for us to recover any memories."

    The more Penelope talks, the more questions that appear in Jos��''s mind. He glances around the room again, frowning.

    "Wait a minute. Hold on. Where is everyone? Seriously, where is Doctor Bashir? Where are the other aides? Assuming I met some terrible end, there should be dozens of personnel in this facility tending to my needs. Why is only one holo-crewman here?"

    Penelope smiles. "Jos�� Rodriguez. You have just undergone a life-threatening operation. Please, step into the sonic shower, clean yourself off, put on some clothes, and take a seat. I have been personally assigned to ensure your rehabilitation goes smoothly."

    "Rehabilitation?" Jos�� echoes. "Uh... forgive me for being rude... but... how many memories did I lose? What happened to me? How did I die? Where the hell is everyone?"

    Penelope''s expression turns stern. "Private Rodriguez. I am your psychologist, as of this moment. That means I am your commanding officer. You are not going to be a poor soldier and disobey my direct orders, are you?"

    Jos�� blinks. "Err, no. Of... of course not. I''m just confused, is all. Can''t you answer a few of my questions?"

    "I can, and I will. But for now, you will follow my commands. Nobody will interrupt us, and you are not allowed to leave the Psionics bay until I have relayed to you in full everything which has transpired during your memory gap. Do you understand what I am saying?"

    Finally, Jos�� relents. His shoulders sag as he glances out the window, confused by the completely barren hallway outside.

    "...Alright. I''m sure you have a good reason for... all of this. I do expect answers though, Evelyn."

    "Penelope," The holo-female says. "My designation is Penelope. But if you would like, I can change my designation to Evelyn."

    "Oh, um, sorry... no. That''s not necessary."

    He glances at the hologram again, pain flickering within his eyes.

    "...You do look just like her, though."

    Jos�� chuckles wryly. He turns toward the medical bay''s showering room and staggers inside while closing the door behind himself.

    Once the Terran leaves the hologram''s view, a surge of despair wells up in his heart.

    Confusion. Anger. Distrust.

    "What the fuck is going on..." Jos�� mutters, as he activates the sonic shower, allowing its sound-waves to beat the grime from his body. "Something isn''t right. It''s not right at all, not one bit..."

    He closes his eyes, allowing the cloning fluid to dissipate from his face and chest.

    "Nick. Nicky-boy... where are you man? Please tell me this is just another one of your sick jokes. Please..."

 Chapter 33: Biases and Assumptions

    Jos�� Rodriguez, the last living Terran, continuously scrubs copious amounts of cloning fluid off his body. After finishing, he stands in the shower and stares at the wall blankly for five long, excruciating minutes.

    Without the holo-doctor there to distract him, Jos�� begins to ruminate on her words and the events he''s experienced.

    I died in battle. Then, I revived inside a cloning chamber.

    Ramma''s Chosen. We possess abilities copied from the ancient Psions, grafted onto our bodies via Ramma''s Titan magic. Thanks to her spellweaving, we become capable of incredible psionic feats.

    However, while the ancient Psions could reach the ultimate pinnacle of psionic power, and even achieve the stage of the Ninth Incarnation, Ramma''s Chosen can only ever use the power of the First Incarnation to its maximum potential. Tapping into the Second Incarnation will badly injure us, and even touching upon the Third Incarnation will destroy us in an instant.

    For my brain to have liquefied in my skull, the battle I fought must have been horrible, vicious, and unrestrained. Unless I was fighting alone, how could that have happened? Nick would have had my back. I''d never go on a mission without him, nor would he without me. That''s why we''re partners, bonded together from the moment we joined the academy.

    Jos�� smiles, as old memories appear in his mind.

    I still remember when me and Nicky-boy first butted heads. We didn''t always see eye to eye. It took us thirty years of intense life-and-death training before we could fully trust one another. Looking back, the Academy was perfectly structured to turn us into a dynamic duo.

    The Terran shakes his head and smiles wryly.

    Then, his expression becomes more serious.

    Since Nick might not be fucking with me, I should assume the worst... what happened to him? Only one of the five cloning pods was active. It seems he didn''t get hurt too badly, nor did any of the other Chosen. There are about a hundred of us Chosen aboard the Bloodbearer. Why would I be the only one to die?

    Could it be... an ambush? Did one of the League of 17 hit me when I was alone? Perhaps one of the Children of Gh��l? The Third Hand, too... they could pull off an assassination of Ramma''s Chosen. It couldn''t have been one of the Void Roamers. I''ve killed far too many of them for those pirate bastards to ever get the nerve.

    Who was it, then? Who gutted me? And now that I''ve revived... what will I do? Once one of Ramma''s Chosen revives, we lose our psionic powers. Ramma might try to link me to the Psionic Well once again... but she probably won''t. Everyone knows that once one of Ramma''s Chosen revives, their career is essentially finished. I''ll have to retire after this and join Command as a consultant.

    Fuck. That''s dismal. A lifetime of data-pushing. Leading from the rear. If Nick didn''t have to revive, Command might assign me as his personal consultant. At least I''ll still get to stay by his side.

    Jos��''s shoulders slump. He leans his back against the cold exosteel shower wall and sighs deeply.

    Just like that, huh? My days as a commando are over. The thrill of battle. The good times with Nicky-boy. No more missions... no more journeys, quests, or voyages to unknown worlds. Just a slow fade into obscurity.

    Sure. I''ll get medals and accolades. I''ll become a general of some high renown. They''ll make a bunch of statues honoring my legacy, mark me down in some books... all that crap. But everyone knows... once one of Ramma''s Chosen leaves the frontlines... it''s a slow decline into mediocrity. I''ll just become some old geezer, reminiscing about the good old days.

    The Terran stares ahead at the door leading out of the shower bay. His thoughts become muddied as he lowers his eyes.

    Ramma might try to give me psionic abilities again... but even if she does, she''ll probably fail. Her powers work best on young people with malleable minds. I''m too old, now. Well over seven thousand mental-years.

    With a sigh of resignation, Jos�� walks over to a nearby locker and grabs a standard-issue set of fatigues for Terran marines. After donning the black and grey patterned camouflage, he slips into some boots and stares at the door.

    Hell, Nick. This has to be a joke, right? Tell me that god-damned cadaver out there is some fucked-up fake you made. Tell me you''re just waiting for me to step through that door, all so you and the boys can have a good laugh at my expense.

    Tell me that''s the case.

    ...But even you''ve never gone this far before. Even you know there''s a limit to jokes. You''d never screw with me to this extent.

    Just this once, I hope I''m wrong. If this isn''t a practical joke... then... it means the end of my career. The end of my purpose. My life.

    Jos�� glances at a nearby mirror. His reflection, much younger than the last time he gazed at himself, seems almost alien.

    The Terran reaches out his hand. He attempts to tap into his psionic powers, but even after several seconds, he can''t conjure the slightest inkling of telekinesis.

    Defeated, Jos��''s arm drops to his side. Complex emotions and thoughts swim behind his eyes.

    Evelyn. Are you still alive? Is our child?

    If I can''t fight anymore... if I can''t carry out Ramma''s Creed... if I absolutely must retire... can''t I just have some happiness for once? Perhaps the higher-ups will grant me one request; to return to your world. To see you, to live with you, to feel your breath on my face.

    It''s been thousands of years. You''re long dead. I know you are. Our child, too. Was she a girl, beautiful like you? Or was he a little boy, strong like me? I don''t even care. I''d take either. I''d give anything just to know what happened to them; to know what happened to you.

    A tear rolls down Jos��''s face.

    I''m tired of all this nonsense. This unending war. These people. Their needs, their wants, their desires. I''m tired of being caught in the tangle of their lives.

    I just want to be happy again.

    Silently, the Terran grieves.

    It takes half an hour for him to regain his composure, clean himself up, and clear his throat.

    Eventually, he reorients himself and turns to face the door.

    If I must retire, then... so be it.

    I''ll go with dignity and grace. I''ll fight for what I want, for once.

    Jos�� walks toward the door. He reaches out his hand to touch its handle.

    Then, he hears voices outside, and hesitates.

    The Terran pauses, leans close to the door, and frowns.

    "-can''t be in here, Megla," Penelope says, her soothing, artificially feminine voice piercing the din. "The Admiral has only just woken up. He hasn''t yet learned what happened. I require time to adjust his mental state."

    As Jos�� listens, his heart skips a beat. A horribly loud, deep, and grating series of monstrous, animal-like sounds rumble outward, as if some terrifying creature has begun to speak.

    "Kyargh! Chuff, chuff. Grooough! Chuff, chuff. Kyargh!"

    The deep, booming sounds chill Jos��''s heart to ice. His pupils constrict as he listens even more carefully. However, no matter what noises the monster makes, he can''t even begin to identify them.

    What in Ramma''s name?!

    The Terran presses his ear against the door. His entire body trembles and shivers as he tries to imagine what on God''s green Earth could possibly make such deep, throaty, gurgling grunts. To his ears, they sound like the growling of a vicious, lion-like predator. A monster which feeds on the flesh of Terrans.

    "I understand your concerns," Penelope says, not budging in the slightest. "However, the Admiral has undergone a tremendous shock due to his death. Adjusting him to this new situation will be infinitely harder than when he first awoke from stasis. The situation is even more complex than it was back then. I''ve prepared countless memory files for him to peruse... but I fear that no matter what I show him, his psyche will suffer a serious blow."

    The more Jos�� listens, the more confused and apprehensive he becomes.

    Admiral? Is she talking about me? I''m not an Admiral; I''m a Private. Could there be some mistake? More importantly, what vile creature is the holo-doctor speaking to? Where are the other crew-members?

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Frowning, Jos�� takes a step back. He aims his eyes at the door and tries to activate his iris modules. However, a moment later, he turns pale, realizing that his cloned body doesn''t contain any of his biomods.

    Damn! The doctor hasn''t transplanted them in me, yet! Aaargh! What the fuck is happening out there?! Who is Evel- I mean, who is Penelope speaking to? Who, or what?!

    Jos�� grits his teeth. Slowly, he grabs the long metal bar on the side of the door. He pulls it slowly, opening it just a crack. Then he peers out, moving as slowly as possible so nobody will see him.

    He witnesses an unbelievable sight.

    A huge, bipedal crocodile, nearly seven feet tall with blood-red scales, towers over the holo-doctor. The monster''s long, fearsome teeth stick out of its jaw, while its thin, vertical pupils gaze at her like a predator sizing up its next meal. The creature''s flesh-raking claws rest upon its thighs, and it flexes its muscles, as if to intimidate the desired information out of the doctor.

    Jos�� quickly retreats and silently closes the door. Then, he slumps to his butt and begins trembling uncontrollably. His thoughts come in a jumble, like a mass of confused soldiers all screaming in different directions at the same time.

    What the fuck. What the fuck.

    Monster. Crocodile. I died. Dead? Clone. Holo-doctor, not a real doctor. Where is everyone? Captured? Killed?

    Unknown enemy. Monsters. Demons? Did they reappear? Perhaps experiments from one of the other factions?

    Jos�� sucks in a quick breath. His pupils shrink to pinpricks.

    The Children of Gh��l. How could I be so blind?! For years, they''ve performed horrible experiments in secret. This creature; could it be one of theirs? A monster capable of combating Ramma''s Chosen?!

    He recalls the creature''s muscles, its powerful build, and its vicious appearance.

    It''s probably still not as strong as me, or any of the other Chosen. However, if the Children of Gh��l produced enough of these creatures, they might be able to overwhelm us in numbers!

    More pieces fall into place in Jos��''s mind. He starts to connect the dots, unraveling the ''conspiracy'' as he sees it.

    There''s no way Nick wouldn''t come to see me the moment I woke up. Hell, he''d stand at my side the whole time, never leaving for a second. Why? Because that''s what I''d do for him! What sort of situation would it take for him to ditch me at a time like this?

    These monsters... they must have captured him! They caught Nicky-boy and me offguard, as well as the rest of Ramma''s Chosen! I don''t know how they did it, but they killed me, and... and revived me? Why?! Why would they revive me?

    The Terran''s heart begins to race as an even more terrifying possibility crosses his mind.

    Torture. Information. Ramma''s Chosen know countless classified secrets. However, our minds are immune to most forms of psychological torture thanks to our psionic abilities. However, if we perish and revive, then those barriers disappear!

    The Terran clenches his teeth. He knots his brow together as sweat drips down his chin.

    Is that the plan? Attack the Bloodbearer, capture all of the crew, kill and revive me, then use a sweet-talking holo-doctor to allay my suspicions. After ''prepping'' me, the masterminds will show up, intending to subdue and torture the information they need out of me.

    A flash of rage enters Jos��''s eyes. The Terran snarls viciously, as bloodlust fills his vision.

    Unforgivable. Unforgivable!

    What did you cocksuckers do to Nick? WHERE IS MY BROTHER?!

    Jos�� rises to his feet. A plan jumps into his mind, formulated quickly but efficiently. His millennia of experience dealing with countless captures, hostage situations, torture, and all other manner of barbarism allows him to cut off his emotions and assess the situation with a cold eye.

    Heh heh heh. You stupid bastards. You should have killed me when you had the chance. I don''t need augmentations, biomods, or psionic powers to fight like hell for my freedom. I''ll find Nick, rescue the rest of the crew, and kill every last one of you.

    He flicks his eyes around the bathroom. Despite not many items meeting his needs, he spots a pair of standard-issue backup pistols placed against the wall.

    Like a swallow drifting through the wind, Jos�� glides over to the pistols in an instant. He sticks one of them into his left pocket after checking its charge, then clutches the other one with feverish intensity.

    Hahaha. It''s not much, but it will do. Never underestimate a Terran, and never look down on one of Ramma''s Chosen. I''ll make you pay for what you''ve done, you murdering motherfuckers!

    Jos�� slides up next to the bathroom door. He presses his ear against it again and listens.

    "-your concern," Penelope says. "But you must leave. I will inform you once I''ve finished rehabilitating the Admiral. I estimate I will require at least a month to relay the most critical news in bite-sized pieces. I cannot rush this process, or it will cause him immense psychological harm."

    "Kyargh! Gaau! Chuff, chuff. Gooroo. Kyargh!"

    The crocodile creature ''speaks'' again, its seemingly nonsensical grunts and growls meaning nothing to Jos��. Having only just been cloned, he doesn''t have a single biomod in his body, not even a basic translation interface.

    Gritting his teeth, the Terran takes a deep breath, then yanks open the door. Before the crocodile or holo-doctor can react, he rushes toward the monster and bellows at the top of his lungs. "Filthy bastard!"

    "Aah!" Penelope cries, startled by this sudden change of events.

    The crocodile starts to turn, but its movements are far too slow to compare to the Terrans''. Jos�� slithers like a snake and jumps onto the monster''s back. He wraps his left arm around the crocodile''s throat, then jams his gun against the side of its head.

    "Don''t move, you filthy heretic!" Jos�� shouts, as the monster tries to grab and pull at his arm. "I''ll blow your fucking brains out!"

    "Kuh-kyargh!" The monster cries, clearly enraged beyond all belief. It struggles for a moment, until it notices the pistol barrel placed against its head.

    "W-wait!" Penelope cries. "No, Jos��, stop! I- I don''t know what''s going through your head, but this isn''t what it looks-"

    "Shut up!" Jos�� bellows, his eyes filled with fury. "Where''s Nick? Where is the rest of the crew? What did you do to them?! Are they dead? Captured?! Speak, you scaled piece of shit!"

    The crocodile slowly stops struggling, obviously intimidated by the Terrans'' fury. It coughs as his grip tightens on its throat. "Chuff. Chuff... cough..."

    "Finding it hard to cry out for your friends, huh?!" Jos�� snarls. "Good! Doctor, you have five seconds to tell me what''s going on! I can''t tell what the hell this ugly fucker is saying, but I''m sure you can translate!"

    Penelope, clearly out of her league, stammers. "I-I- Jos��, please, calm down! Megla is not your enemy! She''s your good friend!"

    "Hah! That''s a laugh! Why would I ever be friends with some weird, freakish crocodile?!" Jos�� laughs bitterly. "Stop spitting lies! What happened? Did the Children of Gh��l reprogram you? Is that why you''re on their side, now?!"

    With the situation spiraling further and further out of control, Penelope stammers uncontrollably. "I-I haven''t been reprogrammed! Jos��, do not squeeze that trigger! Please just stop and listen! Nobody here is trying to hurt you! We''re all your friends!"

    Suddenly, from above, Umi''s voice speaks.

    "Admiral Rodriguez. I did not wish to interfere, but your actions were beyond my expectations. Please cease your hostility. As the commanding officer aboard the Bloodbearer, I do not have the authority to command you to stop. However, I may still file a formal request with you under specific extenuating circumstances."

    Jos�� blinks twice. "Haha. What? Umi, did Gh��l''s Children reprogram you, too? I''m not an Admiral! I''m a Private!"

    The Terran flicks his eyes from the now-submissive crocodile to Penelope, the latter of whom has already turned white as a ghost. Her empathy parameters, far more human-like than the rigidly-programmed Umi above, make it difficult for her to come up with a plan to stymie the Admiral''s rage.

    "Admiral Rodriguez. You are not in your right state of mind. Please desist from any further hostilities. You have lost six months worth of memories. The United Terran Coalition has changed a lot in that time. Officer Megla Brighteye, whom you are currently holding by the throat, is your second in command. If you kill her, you will never be able to forgive yourself."

    Umi''s strong, point-blank words stand in stark contrast to Penelope''s stuttering cries of desperation.

    Jos�� listens to the synthmind with suspicion. He frowns, closes his eyes, and violently shakes his head, as if trying to clear away some invisible fog clouding his judgment.

    Six months. Memories. Second in command. Admiral? I''m an Admiral? Why? Since when?

    These new data points do nothing to eliminate his confusion. Instead, they only muddle his thoughts further, making him feel afraid and panicked.

    Wh-what does Umi mean? How could I possibly become an Admiral? I''m not even in the chain of command! A thousand other people would be at the top of that list before me!

    The crocodile in Jos��''s grasp begins to lose strength in her body. Instead of fighting back against the Admiral''s vicious chokehold, she doesn''t resist, allowing him to throttle her unconscious. Moments later, she slumps forward, unwilling to fight back.

    Jos�� notices the change. He frowns again, for the hundredth time.

    This monster could have raked my arms. It could have attacked me, but it didn''t. Is Umi telling the truth? What is going on here?!

    At that moment, the door to the Psionics bay opens. Another horrifying crocodile, but one with a bright yellow coloration on its scales, appears.

    "Kyargh!" The monster shouts, pointing at its companion, as if to condemn the pathetic human''s actions. "Groar! Chuff, chuff! Groar!"

    Jos�� immediately identifies the monster''s speech as threatening. Realizing the creature is about to attack, Jos��''s lizard-brain takes over.

    "You! Don''t move! Not one inch, do you hear me?! I''ll blow this guy''s brains out! I''ll fucking kill him dead! I''m not bluffing!"

    Irrational and paranoid, the Admiral''s heartbeat quickens. He begins to pant ferociously, as his body loses some of its strength. Terrified out of his wits, the Terran can''t make heads or tails out of this strange, bizarre situation he''s landed in.

    "Jos�� Rodriguez!" Penelope shouts, having finally regained her center. "I am your commanding officer! You will cease this hostility at once! If you don''t... then... then... your fellow crew will all be court martialed! Their careers will end because of you!"

    The Terran pivots his head to gaze at the holo-doctor, shocked by her words.

    "M-my... my fellow crew?"

    Penelope grits her teeth. "That''s right. Private Azaram, for example. I know you''re panicked, but if you break the peace treaty by killing your second in command, the, uh... the Kraktol delegates will retaliate swiftly! Don''t tell me you don''t even remember the decree given out by His Majesty, the Divine Emperor!"

    Jos�� stares blankly. "Treaty... Divine Emperor... I don''t remember. What treaty? What''s going on? What''s happening?"

    The Terran''s eyes lose focus. By now, far too much conflicting information has crashed into his brain. He begins to reel, finding it hard to distinguish his hypotheses from reality. Dazed and confused, he loosens his grip on the crocodile monster''s neck by just a little.

    "I don''t know... what''s going on..."

    Penelope slowly walks toward Jos��. she reaches out and touches his face, while smiling beautifully, like an angel of light.

    "I know you''re scared. I know you''re confused. It will all be okay. Just listen to me, Jos��. Put the gun down, alright?"

    No longer able to understand what''s happening, Jos��''s brain shuts down. He numbly lowers the gun, even as his body begins to tremble and shake.

    "I''m... I''m scared... I''m..."

    The Terran loses strength in his legs, then his arms. His hearts both convulse, making his eyes turn bloodshot.

    "Nick... Nick... Nick... I''m scared- I''m..."

    With his thoughts in total disorder, Jos�� doesn''t even resist as Penelope presses a small device against his neck. A cool, numbing sensation spreads across his body as paralytic medicine overwhelms him, sucking the Terran off to a dreamland.

    Just before Jos�� falls asleep, he spots something out of the corner of his eye.

    "Uhh... kitty? Kitty... cat?"

    A bipedal feline stands in the doorway beside the red-scaled crocodile, staring at him with its paws over its mouth.

    Tears fall from Jos��''s eyes as a stupid goofy smile spreads across his face.

    "Cute kitty... good kitty..."

    Then, he falls comatose, unable to awaken.

 Chapter 34: Umis Ultimatum

    Megla, Soren, and several Kessu stand next to a hospital bed, one with suppressive straps attached to some twenty different positions on its frame. These straps link to restraints which wrap around Admiral Rodriguez''s limbs and body, firmly holding him in place atop the bed''s thin mattress.

    The Terran lays motionless, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. His eyes move in circles beneath his eyelids while he experiences some unknown, hopefully pleasant dream.

    Megla stands closest to him. Her claw rests on the edge of his bed, but she hangs her head, a look of sadness in her eyes.

    "The Admiral. He called me a monster."

    The red-scaled Kraktol stares at the floor, her gaze despondent. She recalls the moments before she passed out, when the Admiral screamed in her ear and hurled vicious epithets at her.

    Soren places a claw on her sister''s shoulder. "You can''t fault him, sister. He didn''t mean it. The Admiral was merely... confused. He didn''t recognize you, and only saw you as a threat."

    Across the hospital bed, the holo-doctor, Penelope, stands by herself, nodding along to Soren''s words. "Admiral Rodriguez lost all of his memories, up until the point he first left the stasis capsule. He has forgotten every event from the past six months. He has forgotten that all of his fellow crew perished. He has even forgotten about the Kessu, the Kraktol, and the demons on Tarus II."

    "I didn''t realize he''d lose... everything..." Megla says, numbly. "Didn''t you say he would survive the cloning process without any ill effects?"

    "No," Penelope answers, shaking her head. "I stated that there was a small chance he might. Infinitesimal. Less than one percent. In terms of losing his memories, that was virtually assured. You seem to have have assumed the best case scenario in a moment of hopefulness. Statistically, in the recorded instances one of Ramma''s Chosen was brought back via cloning, they lost all of their memories up to the point of their last scheduled brain-backup. In the Admiral''s case, his last backup was saved inside his stasis-capsule."

    "Why didn''t you make other backups in the last six months?" Soren asks. "Surely, during the operation to restore the Admiral''s body after he emerged from his stasis capsule..."

    "We had many extenuating circumstances," Penelope says, glancing at the foot of the bed, where the wide-eyed Kessu stand. "Backing up a Terran''s memories always causes some level of trauma to their cerebral cortex. It is not a mere brain-scan, but an invasive procedure which Ramma''s Chosen typically undergo only once every few years, or directly before a Red-Level mission. The Kessu rescue on Tarus II was nowhere near that level, since we did not know of the demons'' existences. As another example, had we backed up the Admiral''s memories at the moment of his Level Four surgery, the likelihood of his death on the operation table would have tripled."

    Penelope continues. "Additionally, the Bloodbearer had yet to be repaired. We were operating with limited processing cores from Umi''s central matrix. Undertaking a CPU-intensive operation with a damaged mainframe is simply asking for disaster."

    Soren closes her eyes.

    "...Oh."

    Seeing the looks of loss on everyone''s faces, Penelope''s emotional-adaptation programming activates. She stands silently for a few moments while processing the room''s atmosphere, before smiling cheerfully.

    "Do not worry! The Admiral is alive. Since this is the case, I will continue rehabilitating him to the best of my ability. You should not take the words he spoke earlier to heart. He was not in his right state of mind."

    Megla raises her head. She looks at the holo-doctor meaningfully. "Are you sure about that? Admiral Rodriguez is one of Ramma''s Chosen. He has mentioned on a few occasions that he was part of a militant, religious faction among his people. He was, in essence, a Terran supremacist. Who''s to say he hasn''t always secretly felt that way about me? Perhaps the memory loss brought out his true feelings."

    "Sister..." Soren says, opening her long, crocodile-mouth to retort. It takes her a few attempts before she can speak. "He... the Admiral... I know his attachments to us weren''t fake. You have to give him time to adapt."

    "I shouldn''t have come here," Megla says. "If I had just listened, and hadn''t come barging in, hoping to see the Admiral right after he woke up, he wouldn''t have fallen into such dire straits. It''s all my fault."

    While the red-scaled Kraktol mutters to herself dispiritedly, Little Lele walks over and climbs the edge of the bed, pulling herself up to the Admiral''s legs. She eyeballs the straps holding him in place and frowns. "Hey, what''s up with these ropes? Why are you guys chaining Big Baldy like a prisoner? He didn''t mean to hurt anyone!"

    Penelope''s smile stays plastered to her face like a piece of glue. "The restraints are for the Admiral''s sake, not ours. I need to hold him in place so that he won''t hurt himself when he wakes up. He''s extremely confused and frightened. Ramma''s Chosen do not easily break when it comes to their emotional stability, but undergoing such a violent and abrupt change in circumstances could cause anyone to doubt reality. The Admiral did what he could to rectify his situation. He assumed the Kraktol were mutants created by the Children of Gh��l. He connected several pieces of information to form a scene in reality which fit to his expectations."

    The holo-doctor continues. "Humans are hardy creatures. When placed inside a situation they''ve never encountered, their minds will often reconfigure themselves to accommodate their new reality. However, humans are often limited by their understanding of the world. Now that we have installed a cerebral chip inside the Admiral''s brain, we can piece together the thoughts he underwent when he awoke from the cloning chamber."

    "Since the Admiral had no way of knowing 100 million years had passed, his first assumption was that he was still in the old era, during the Terran pantheon. He then began to wonder why his best friend and half-brother of sorts, Private Nicholai Azaram, was not there to greet him. Given their innumerable experiences together, Admiral Rodriguez would find it immediately suspicious that his closest comrade was not there when he emerged from the cloning tube."

    Lele nods along to the doctor''s words. "I''ve never heard of Big Baldy''s friend. Who was he? What was he like?"

    "The Admiral has mentioned him in passing a few times," Soren says, her tone uncertain. "But even I''m not aware of the specifics."

    "This vessel has long lost all its detailed records regarding ship personnel," Penelope says. "However, based upon the memories we''ve obtained from Admiral Rodriguez, we were able to partially recompile some of the crew and personnel lists, along with their relevant statuses and areas of expertise. Private Azaram was a powerful Terran soldier, one rated two half-ranks above Admiral Rodriguez in his combat simulation capabilities. This means that if Jos�� Rodriguez would be able to kill a Grade A+ enemy combatant solo, Private Azaram would have been able to kill a Grade S or S+ combatant by himself. In terms of seniority, Azaram was a higher-tier soldier."

    Remembering their experiences with the Admiral in the holo-deck, Soren and Megla both sigh with admiration.

    "Terrans were frightening monsters..." Megla says, smiling in spite of her melancholy. "I''m afraid the current universe wouldn''t stand a chance against them if they were ever to revive themselves."

    "Indeed," Penelope says, nodding. "In any case, returning to the previous line of questioning: Admiral Rodriguez concocted a deep and intricate scenario within seconds whereupon you, the Kraktol, were creatures created by the Children of Gh��l. He assumed your existences were likely a secret, and thus that is why he had never heard of you. Given your resemblance to the crocodiles of the Terran era, it would be reasonable for him to assume such a thing. The final piece of evidence came when he heard you and I conversing with one another. Since he could not understand your words, he assumed you were threatening me for some reason, likely to extract knowledge he had regarding Ramma''s secrets. After all, in the era from which he originated, inter-faction violence and espionage were a daily occurrence."

    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    "That''s nice to know, but what does all of this mean?" Soren asks. "How can you rehabilitate the Admiral now that we''ve thoroughly confused him, chained him to a bed, and made him think we''re holding his comrades hostage?"

    The whole room falls silent.

    Penelope frowns. Her emotional data-lines cycle through multiple subroutines as she formulates a response.

    "The current situation is far from ideal. Had Officer Brighteye not entered the room, I may have been able to slowly integrate the Admiral''s past and present situations together through gentle prodding and explanation. However, now that the situation has reached this level, I need to expedite his coping process. I must reveal what has happened in a simple and honest manner. At this moment, any further deceptions will only harm the Admiral, making it extremely difficult for him to cope with reality. I believe his risk of self-harm and suicide will elevate to an undesirable level if I mishandle his needs."

    Soren frowns. "Should we leave you alone with the Admiral, then? He seems to like you. If our presences here will only startle and frighten him, then perhaps...?"

    "Unfortunately, it is too late for us to avoid agitating the Admiral," Penelope replies. "He has seen too many things that contrast with his memories and grasp on reality. You might as well all stay here for when he awakens. The Kessu, in particular. Admiral Rodriguez has a special affection for cute, furry creatures, such as cats, dogs, and birds. Your presence here will help set his mind at ease."

    Patriarch Nyoor blinks his huge, widened eyes. "Cats? Dogs? Birds? Mraaw! What are those?"

    "They are, most likely, your biological ancestors," Penelope answers. "But that is a discussion for another time. The Bloodbearer''s investigative routines are still working silently to determine the origins of the various species populating the Milky Way galaxy. Perhaps, in the near future, we may be able to unravel not only what happened to humanity, but why all of your species arose after their fall."

    Megla shakes her head. "None of that matters now. All I care about is that the Admiral recovers from his trauma. I also hope he won''t... hate me."

    "Any hostility the Admiral feels toward you is simply a byproduct of his assumptions regarding your origins," Penelope responds. "Once he learns the Kraktol are not monsters created by the Children of Gh��l, he will be able to treat you as ambassadors of a sentient species, along with the Kessu and any others we meet. He does not hate your appearance, but the associations you bring up in his mind regarding the experimental subjects the Children of Gh��l once foisted upon civilized galactic society."

    Soren cocks her head slightly. "Penelope, you keep mentioning the Children of Gh��l. Even though they are long-dead, I would like to know more about them. Can you tell us any specifics?"

    The doctor shakes her head. "I am afraid not, Officer Mudrose. The majority of information Umi''s databanks once held has long since eroded over the past hundred million years. Anything we still know was either copied from the Admiral''s memories, or is high-level information that only the Admiral himself may access; classified secrets. If you wish to know more, then you may ask Admiral Rodriguez once he recovers."

    Soren frowns. "I don''t need to know any specifics. Just general information. I don''t even have a foggy idea of the different Terran factions from the Admiral''s past. Can''t you tell us anything at all?"

    Penelope glances around the room. Most of the Kessu seem uninterested in this information, along with Megla, but Lele perks her ears up, excited to learn new information about ''Big Baldy.''

    "Well, I suppose I can outline a few general bits of information for you. The Children of Gh��l were an organization that focused on biological experimentation. Out of all the major Terran factions, we of Ramma''s Chosen considered them the most heretical. They often experimented on live human subjects, most being unwilling participants. They created countless awful chimeras; creatures stitched together from differing organisms. For example, if the Children of Gh��l still existed today, they might tear off the limbs of a Kraktol and sew them onto the body of a Kessu, all in the name of science."

    Lele shrinks back in alarm, flattening her ears. "Eww, gross! I''d never want a pair of icky scale-arms! Yucky!"

    Megla snorts derisively. "Kyargh! Stupid furball. It would be your great honor to possess any body part of a superior Kraktol!"

    Unperturbed by the interruption, Penelope continues. "According to the Admiral''s memories, the Children of Gh��l were an organization Ramma''s Chosen clashed with on innumerable occasions. Despite their heretical ways, they produced many potent bio-weapons, including viral contagions, flesh-melting agents, and other such devices. Therefore, many developed militaries supported them in secret, making it impossible for Ramma''s Chosen to exterminate them. Ramma''s Chosen were never able to root out their headquarters, and even if we had, they could have simply moved their power base elsewhere, unbeknownst to us."

    "They sounded like tricky little skeevers to kill," Soren says, waving her claws flippantly. "Oh, well. They perished to the annals of time, along with the rest of Terrankind. I suppose that''s a comforting thought."

    "Perhaps..." Penelope says, pursing her holographic lips. "But we have no method of confirming that all of Terrankind has perished. In the 50th Era, humanity inhabited seven separate galaxies. It is even possible that some stragglers may have traveled beyond the Local Cluster, to places more distant than we could ever visit in our lifetimes. Never underestimate a Terran''s curiosity, for they will investigate anomalies as if their lives depend on it."

    Soren nods. "Noted."

    ...

    After Penelope finishes her explanation, several minutes pass. A half hour. An hour.

    Soren comforts Megla, assuring her the Admiral didn''t mean all the hateful things he said. The Kessu mill about at the foot of Jos��''s bed, meowing and trilling to one another while they worry about whether the Great Precursor will manage to make himself whole again.

    As for Lele, she climbs onto Jos��''s stomach and curls up in a ball, falling fast asleep. Despite her high intelligence and attunement to technology, in the end, she''s still only a kitten. Too much excitement in one day tuckers her out, leaving her exhausted.

    While the Mallali and Rodaks chat quietly, Penelope suddenly speaks.

    "Admiral Rodriguez''s brainwaves have stabilized. He will wake up soon."

    Immediately, the room''s occupants turn to face the Admiral. All of the Kessu line up on his right side, their little heads and ears barely poking over the bed''s frame, while the two Kraktol tower over him in a somewhat scary manner. Soren notices this fact and pulls out a pair of chairs for her and her sister, dropping them down to a less domineering height.

    "I have repaired the Admiral''s translation implant," Penelope says. "Therefore, he will be able to understand everyone in this room. Megla, Soren, try not to make any sudden movements. I have no doubt the Admiral will try to put on a brave front, but no human will be able to relax in an unknown environment with unfamiliar scenery. Until he acclimates to your presence, it''s best to try and replace your terrible first impressions with positive second impressions. Aside from a mind-wipe of his recent memories, we have no other alternatives."

    Megla shakes her head. "No mind-wipes. I won''t allow it. We''ve hurt the Admiral enough. I''ve hurt him enough. We''ll make our penance and state our case. Admiral Rodriguez died once already... let''s do everything we can to make his second life a comfortable one and get our friend back."

    "Well said, sister," Soren says, grinning toothily. "Your concern for the Admiral''s wellbeing is touching."

    "I wouldn''t call it ''concern,''" Megla growls. "More like... guilt."

    She and Soren both fall silent. Lele wakes up, but she doesn''t climb off the Admiral, and instead sits upright on his stomach, poking the restraints holding him in place with a look of sadness.

    "...Will we be able to untie Big Baldy?"

    "Yes, one way or another," Penelope answers. "However, I must warn everyone here. Even under these circumstances, Admiral Rodriguez is the last remaining Terran. If, after informing him of the modern era''s current situation, he orders anyone to leave, you must comply. All of Umi''s processors link to his well-being. Preserving the last Terran''s life is akin to saving the Divine Emperor himself. All of your lives are, sadly, secondary."

    From above, Umi speaks. "Affirmative. Admiral Rodriguez''s existence is worth ten million times the value to my subroutines compared to anyone here. If he orders the Kessu or Kraktol''s extermination, I will obey without hesitation. It is within your best interests to remind him of why you are such good friends. If he remains unconvinced, your prior merits will mean nothing to me. I do not possess any emotional attachments to your species, nor a capacity for pity and empathy. Do not attempt to appeal to my ''better nature.''"

    Soren and Megla both shiver in fright, realizing their lives have suddenly landed upon a dangerous precipice. If Jos�� decides they are his enemies, then they won''t have any way to fight back. He''ll still have full command of the ship''s primary systems, and they won''t have a chance in hell at preserving their lives.

    "B-but, earlier..." Megla stammers. "...You lied to the Admiral. You told him his fellow crewman were alive."

    "Yes, I did deceive the Admiral," Penelope replies with a nod. "However, my actions were in accordance with emergency medical policy. Once the Admiral is fully informed of the current galactic situation and I can confirm he is of sound and stable mental awareness, I will no longer consider him a red-level patient. He will be free to make his own choices."

    Soren nods. "Understood. Then... Megla and I will do our best to remind the Admiral of our friendship. I do not wish to die under his hands, nor for him to suffer emotionally as a result of our careless actions. However, if he decides to execute us..."

    The croc falls silent and closes her eyes.

    "...Then so be it."

    Megla''s eyes widen in alarm. "Sister? What are you saying? This isn''t like you, to consider giving up without a fight! It''s... it''s illogical!"

    "Perhaps. But when it comes to the Admiral, I cannot bring myself to fight him. I''ve long-since realized my actions defy logic, but I cannot place when or why that changed."

    Soren looks at her sister meaningfully. "Isn''t it the same for you?"

    Megla sighs. She lowers her head and nods.

    "...Well, yes. I suppose it is. Kyargh! You''re even more my sister than I remember."

    ...

    Suddenly, Admiral Rodriguez coughs. The abrupt noise startles Lele, making her ears flatten and fur stand on end. However, the kitten quickly recovers, feeling slightly ashamed of her instinctive fright.

    Jos��''s eyes flutter open.

    Hazily, he stares forward, not quite perceiving the world before him.

    "Uhhh..."

    "Where... where am I?"

 Chapter 35: Shock and Denial

    Admiral Jos�� Rodriguez, the last living Terran, slowly opens his eyes. As he does, a single question comes to his mind.

    "Where am I?"

    The blurry-eyed Terran quickly awakens from his forced sleep, only to find himself back in a confusing reality. His body, strapped to a hospital bed, lays inert and unmoving. To the left of the bed, two giant, fearsome, bipedal crocodiles sit with their claws folded in their laps, eyeballing him like a piece of meat. To his right, Penelope, the holo-doctor, stands at his side and smiles politely, waiting for him to gather his bearings.

    And, on the Admiral''s stomach, a fairly large, two-foot-tall bipedal kitty cat, blinks her eyes open and yawns.

    "Big Baldy! You''re awake! Mraww!"

    The sound of cat-like meowing enters Jos��''s ears, but the sounds translate in his mind to coherent speech, allowing him to understand the linguistic intent of the little girl''s words.

    Jos�� flicks his eyes from left to right, recalling what happened to him earlier. He tries to move, only to find that, in his weakened state, he can''t break free of the restraints holding him down.

    The Terran starts to panic, but forces himself to remain calm.

    "What''s going on? Where am I? What have you done to the crew?"

    Penelope reaches out her hand and touches the Terran''s arm. "Jos�� Rodriguez. You have suffered an immense mental shock. Do you remember me? My designation is Penelope; I am one of the Bloodbearer''s bio-entities, presently serving as the ship doctor. We spoke before your, ahem, unexpected sedation."

    "Sedation..." Jos�� mumbles, creasing his brows. "...You knocked me out?"

    "Yes. I''m sorry, but you left me no choice. It was for your own good. I did not wish for you to unintentionally offend the Kraktol diplomats. These restraints are temporary, and I will remove them once we''ve successfully debriefed you regarding the missing gaps in your memory."

    The Terran glances to his left at the frightening-looking Kraktol, their beady eyes gazing upon him from on high with predatory thirst. In his heart of hearts, the Terran can''t help but feel small and insignificant before such fearsome monsters.

    "K-Kraktol? That''s you two... things? Crocodiles? Who are you? Creations of the Children of Gh��l?"

    The yellow-scaled crocodile lowers its head. "We are not related to the Children of Gh��l, erm... Terran."

    "Kyargh!" The red-scaled Kraktol yells. "You don''t remember us. We understand that. Let me just say that we are your friends, not your enemies. My name is Megla, and this is my sister, Soren. That ugly furball on your stomach is Lele."

    Megla points at the kitten, who hisses in annoyance. "Meow! Watch who you''re calling ugly, scale-breath!"

    Haha..." Penelope chuckles, a hint of nervousness in her voice. "Ahem. Jos�� Rodriguez, I didn''t wish to dump so much information on you so quickly, but it seems I have no choice. The situation you envisioned upon waking from the cloning bay was very different from the reality you find yourself in."

    Jos�� stays silent. He stares at Penelope, waiting to hear her explanation.

    The Terran''s cold, emotionless gaze doesn''t affect the holo-doctor. She continues as before, cycling her emotion and logic programming to best adapt to the situation.

    "First... regarding your original mission, the one you probably remember. You and the rest of the Bloodbearer''s crew were on their way to Alpha Centauri Starbase IV. A series of unknown events occurred during the trip, which caused the Bloodbearer to end up inside an interstellar plasma storm. The crew remained in stasis, unaware of what had occurred. Likewise, this ship remained in Hibernation Mode, unmoving and unresponsive."

    The Terran frowns. "For how long?"

    Before Penelope can answer, he further clarifies. "How long was the Bloodbearer inside the plasma storm?"

    Penelope falls silent for a moment. She glances at the Kraktol, then back to Jos��. "...One hundred million years."

    The Terran''s expression doesn''t change. He stares at the holo-doctor with the same dispassionate look as before, as if he didn''t hear what she said. "Oh? Is that so?"

    "It is." Penelope replies.

    "Mmm."

    Jos�� nods his head slightly, his expression unchanged.

    "You can''t expect me to believe that," Jos�� adds, after a few moments of silence. "What really happened? The truth, Penelope. I see no point in lying at a time like this."

    "Crew-member Rodriguez," Penelope says, delicately avoiding the use of ''Admiral'' or ''Private.'' "What I have just said was the truth. The Bloodbearer became stranded inside of a plasma storm for one hundred million years. As such, when the, the, erm... when the crew awakened from stasis, they found that... Terrankind had gone extinct."

    This time, Jos��''s expression shifts noticeably. His brow creases, and his eyes narrow.

    "How can you possibly expect me to swallow such an absurd lie? The best, top-of-the-line stasis modules in existence might last 500,000 years at most before the crew-members inside decomposed into a gelatinous substance. Let alone a hundred million years, half a million would render every crewmember of the Bloodbearer deader than a rock."

    He continues. "Furthermore, it is impossible that this vessel could endure for a hundred million years without rusting or breaking down over time, and that''s without factoring its hull being continually bombarded by the electrical strikes of a plasma storm. Such violent, turbulent energies would rip the Bloodbearer apart within a few thousand years, even at its peak condition."

    Concluding, the Terran adds, "And finally, the fact you''re standing here inside the Bloodbearer''s medical bay means that not only is the ship running, but its holo-projectors haven''t decomposed either. This vessel requires constant maintenance. Its power systems would surely fail, given a hundred million years, causing all of its automated maintenance drones to fall inactive. With all of that in mind, I''d like to kindly ask you to fuck off with these lies and tell me what has happened to the rest of the crew, who these crocodilian creatures are, and why you have me strapped to this bloody bed!"

    Jos�� bites off the end of his sentence, leaving his words to ring in the ears of everyone present.

    Megla and Soren lower their heads, unable to look the Terran in his eyes. Lele''s ears flatten, as she, too, appears distraught.

    Penelope doesn''t reply for several long seconds. When she does, she appears noticeably less cheerful compared to before.

    "Crew-member Rodriguez. Unfortunately, I don''t have a retort for each of your observations. In the six months after your awakening, prior to your death and rebirth in the cloning device, you hypothesized several possibilities regarding how the Bloodbearer survived one hundred million years in a plasma cloud. For instance, even with such powerful energy bolts striking the Bloodbearer''s plating, perhaps the ship converted some of that energy into static fuel to power its inner capacitors. This would enable it to maintain life support, as well as its inner fleet of repair drones, for well past its projected sustainability limits."

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Jos�� snorts. "And the crew? It''s impossible for anyone to survive in stasis past 500,000 years, and that''s at the upper limits of credibility. Forget one hundred million years, the whole crew would have likely perished before the arrival of the 51st Era. How can you explain that?"

    This time, the entire mood of the room turns somber. Lele looks away, unable to meet Jos��''s gaze. The other Kessu at the foot of the bed bow their heads, remorse on their faces.

    "You are correct, crew-member Rodriguez..." Penelope murmurs, her voice low. "It is impossible for humans to survive for so long in stasis. Of course, there are occasional miracles that can happen... but they are infrequent, at best."

    Jos�� nods. "So you admit it. The crew couldn''t have possibly survived for so long, yet here I am. So cut the crap. Where are my superior officers? Where is Private Azaram? What the hell is going on, and why does everyone here look like they''re attending a god-damned funeral? Just tell me what''s really happening!"

    Penelope winces. Hearing the Terran''s clear inability to believe her words, she decides to stop dodging around and answer him in as matter-a-fact manner as possible.

    "Very well. Since you wish to know, I suppose that can only mean my persuasiveness subroutines have lost much of their nuance due to data degradation."

    After a momentary pause, Penelope continues.

    "I regret to inform you, Jos�� Rodriguez, that nothing I have said was a lie or an inaccuracy. Your hypotheses are all correct. It is essentially impossible for a crew to survive for one hundred million years in stasis. However, miracles can happen. Your survival was a one-in-a-trillion fluke, but upon emerging from stasis, you still suffered countless decayed internal organs. That is why you are the sole remaining survivor aboard the Bloodbearer."

    Her voice hollow, Penelope concludes. "Every other Terran aboard this ship has perished. You are the sole survivor left of your species. I am sorry to inform you in such a blunt manner, crew-member Rodriguez. I truly am."

    Jos��''s expression doesn''t change. He stares evenly at Penelope, as if trying to bore holes through her holographic body.

    "...Bullshit. What a load of bullshit. If this is a practical joke, it''s absolutely sickening. Not even Nicky would sink this low. Where''s your proof? Your evidence?"

    Penelope meets Jos��''s disbelieving sneer with a look of helplessness. "I am prepared to remove these restraints, so long as you promise to contain your emotions. The Kraktol diplomats will not harm you, so I would prefer you do not harm them, as well."

    "What does that have to do with anything?" Jos�� asks.

    "I will show you the proof you wish to see," Penelope says, her tone even. "Originally, I intended to introduce you to your new reality slowly, one step at a time. However, due to certain unfortunate... circumstances... that is no longer possible. Therefore, I will simply tell you the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

    Jos�� rolls his eyes. "The truth, sure. Fine, I promise not to attack anyone. How about that? You reinstalled my bio-chip, right? You know I never go back on my word."

    "I do," Penelope says, nodding slowly. "Lele, please help me remove the Adm- erm, crew-member Rodriguez''s restraints."

    "Okay."

    Lele''s ears, still lowered flat, reveal the sadness in her heart. She gets to work popping open the restraint links on the left side of Jos��''s bed, while Penelope removes those on the right.

    After finishing, Jos�� sits up straight, with Lele still in his lap. The black-furred kitty meows at him. "Big Baldy, we''re all your friends, you know? We''re all here to help you! You can talk to us about anything."

    "Thanks for the offer, kitty cat," Jos�� says, forcing a smile. "You''re a little cutie. I don''t know who or what created you, but you''re definitely adorable, I''ll give you that."

    "...My name is Lele, not ''kitty-cat,''" Lele mutters, sulkily. "Lele. Got it?"

    "Alright, sure, Lele," Jos�� says, his smile turning a tad more authentic. He pets the top of her head, marveling to himself at how soft and fluffy her hair is.

    Such a cute kitty.

    Jos�� swings his legs over the left side of the bed. As he does, the Kraktol take a few steps back to give him room, but he ignores them and rises to his full height. It''s only once Jos�� stands up that he realizes both of the Kraktol females are an entire head shorter than him.

    Curious. They looked bigger when I was laying down. They aren''t quite so fearsome now that I''ve stood up.

    The Terran muses to himself for a moment before pulling off his hospital shirt and putting on a fresh, clean, military jacket. The navy blue coloration makes him look much more professional compared to before, causing all of the Kessu and Kraktol to stare at him with nostalgic gazes.

    Jos�� pushes past the Kraktol, only for an elderly Kessu to come waddling toward him while leaning on a cane.

    "Mraaw! Great Precursor, you may not remember me, but I wanted to thank you! I am Elder Nyoor. You saved the life of my child, Ruuki!"

    "I did?" Jos�� asks, as he kneels down to pet the old cat''s head. "Haha. Is that so? Well, uh, I''m glad I could help."

    Seeing the Terran''s expression soften whenever he interacts with a Kessu, Penelope nods to herself. She doesn''t say anything, but her gaze clearly indicates how glad she is that she decided to allow the cat-aliens inside the room.

    "So, where are we going?" Jos�� asks, as he turns to Penelope. "To see the rest of the crew, I hope."

    Penelope''s smile freezes on her face.

    "...Yes. That''s exactly correct."

    "Oh? Haha. You''ve finally decided to stop screwing with me," Jos�� says, nodding his head. "About time."

    Penelope sighs. "You could say that."

    .......................................

    The Terran exits his hospital room, only to emerge into a hallway packed to the brim with several hundred Kessu, all of the kitty-cats bunched up outside, waiting for his exit. Jos�� pauses when the door opens, staring in surprise at the sea of differently-colored fur before him.

    "By the Emperor! Just how many of these cat-creatures are there?"

    As Jos�� marvels at the Kessu, they meow back.

    "Look! It''s the Precursor! He''s alive!"

    "Wow, I''m so happy! He saved us from those mean, nasty Kraktol!"

    "Mraww, not all Kraktol are bad. Soren is nice!"

    "Yeah, but that Megla..."

    Several meowing conversations reach Jos��''s ears. He listens intently, but mostly just picks up idle gossip and fawning adoration about himself. After leaning down to pet the heads of all the nearest Kessu, his spirits rise noticeably.

    "Haha. I haven''t any idea how we stumbled upon these creatures, but it''s hard not to smile when there are so many of them."

    Jos�� exits the hospital room, followed by Penelope, Megla, Soren, and the other Kessu. Lele squeezes past their legs and runs toward Jos��, gently scratching his jeans.

    "Big Baldyyy!"

    Picking up on her intent, Jos�� leans down, lifts the kitten into his grasp, and laughs when she squeals in delight. "Alright, alright, stop whining. I''ll carry you wherever we''re going."

    Penelope disappears from the hospital room and reappears in the corridor, phasing into a gap in the crowd via the hallway''s holo-projectors. "This way, please."

    Jos�� follows after her, holding Lele in his arms. The kitten is all smiles as she sticks out her tongue at the other Kessu children nearby, all of them jealous at her special relationship with the Precursor.

    As Jos�� follows Penelope, his doubts begin to grow.

    "Why are there so many cats here, but only two crocodiles?"

    Behind Jos��, Megla pipes up. "Kyargh! My sister and I are the only Kraktol aboard the Bloodbearer. We''re here because of a few extenuating circumstances. You personally drafted us into this ship''s crew."

    Jos�� frowns. "I only drafted you two? And why would I do that, on my own authority? No, don''t tell me. It''s because all the rest of my crewmates are dead, right? That would make me the Bloodbearer''s commander."

    The humans'' clearly sardonic tone gives off the impression he still doesn''t believe any of Penelope''s claims are real. His brain denies reality, filling in any gaps in his memories with whatever happens to make the most sense to him.

    "Just ridiculous," Jos�� mutters. "Who could believe such an outlandish story? When I get down to the bottom of this, some heads are going to roll."

    Penelope doesn''t offer a retort, nor do any of the others present. They merely stay silent, while the ever-increasing party of hundreds of Kessu trails along behind the Terran and his comrades.

    Eventually, the entry to the stasis bay appears up ahead. The giant double-doors open up, making Jos��''s eyebrows point downward into a ''V'' shape.

    "Why come here?"

    Penelope doesn''t answer. Instead, she steps into the center of the room, where thousands of stasis pods mounted to the walls encircle her.

    "This is everyone," Penelope says, turning to face Jos��. "All of the Bloodbearer''s crew. Except for you."

    Jos�� balks.

    "You can''t be serious. They''re... they''re all here? Everyone? Even Nicky-boy?"

    Penelope''s eyes lose some of their luster.

    "That''s right. I''m sorry, crew-member Rodriguez. I have not spoken a single lie. Every other member of the crew has perished. You are the last living Terran in the entirety of the Milky Way."

    Finally, Jos��''s disbelieving expression cracks. He stares blankly at Penelope for over a minute, as if trying to read whether she''s lying or not based on her facial cues.

    "Impossible. Impossible..." The Terran mutters, clutching Lele tightly. "They can''t be dead. You''re lying. You''re fucking with me!"

    Penelope shakes her head.

    "I''m afraid not. Here. Umi has recordings of the last six months, taken from your retinal sensors. They aren''t your memories, exactly, but they''re as close as you''ll ever get. Compare them with what you see here... and decide for yourself what is true and false."

    Penelope holds up her palm. A floating ball of data appears in midair, then hovers toward Jos��''s face. He stands still, unresisting, as it merges with his cerebral implants and downloads into his consciousness.

    "Fine..." Jos�� mutters, his mouth dry. "Let''s see your... your so-called ''evidence.''"

 Chapter 36: Anger and Bargaining

    Six months worth of video data streams into Jos�� Rodriguez''s cortical implant. These videos, recorded by Jos�� himself, rapidly play out in his mind at a fifty-to-one time dilation ratio. Countless conversations and moments all occur inside his head, back to back, expanding his consciousness and filling in memory blanks the Admiral never knew he had.

    The Terran continues to hold Lele in his arms, but his posture slackens noticeably. While the Kessu and Kraktol watch, his gaze grows distant. He stares into space for tens of minutes, slowly absorbing Umi''s data as she feeds it to him.

    His emergence from the stasis capsule.

    His realization that all of his fellow crew-members had died.

    Watching the liquefied remains of his best friend spill out of the stasis capsule.

    Struggling to suppress his emotions as he took control of the ship''s mainframe.

    Fighting the Kraktol, outwitting their commander, and eventually killing him.

    These memories, and more, play inside Jos��''s mind''s eye. Unbeknownst to him, several hours crawl by. The Kraktol and Kessu become restless as they watch the Admiral stand in place, motionless, unmoving.

    "What''s happening?" Megla whispers.

    Penelope folds her hands together in front of herself. "The Admiral is currently viewing the events of the past six months via a time-accelerated data-link. This data streams to his brain via a neural interface, allowing him to observe the life he''s lived since his emergence from the stasis capsule, back before he met you."

    Megla''s eyes widen. "Really? Kyargh! That''s great! That''s basically the same as getting all of his memories back!"

    The bio-entity shakes her head. "No. It isn''t. Reflecting upon one''s memories is a sensation unlike viewing a video recreation of them. The thoughts of that time, the textures you may have felt, the smell in the air, all of those things are an integral part of the remembering process. None of them are involved in a simple audio-visual recording, meaning that, for the Admiral, viewing these memories is much more akin to observing the life of someone else through their eyes."

    She continues. "Think of a time in your life when you decided to trust someone. Perhaps there was a warm feeling in your heart. Perhaps, after a long period of working with them, you had grown to see them as a peer, a kin-like figure you could treat as an equal. In your mind, many subtle biochemical changes accompanied that realization. Later, when reflecting upon that moment, you would inadvertently recall those sensations, subtly reminding yourself of why you chose to trust that person."

    The bio-entity''s expression becomes solemn. "Admiral Rodriguez is unlikely to experience anything of that sort. He will experience emotions, certainly, upon observing the death of his kin. He will once again suffer the heart-rending pain of watching his brother''s liquefied remains spill out onto the ground in front of him. However, it will have a different sensation in his mind. A different bio-chemical reaction, one of a distant, untouchable loss."

    After Penelope concludes, Megla''s gaze softens. She recalls how she felt over the past several months as she grew closer to the Admiral, learning to trust him and his judgment.

    But what if she hadn''t experienced those moments herself? What if, instead, she only saw those moments through a camera? Would she still feel the same way about the Admiral as she does now?

    Megla opens her mouth several times to speak, but closes it again moments later. After several attempts, she chuffs through her nose. "Kurrrgh. I don''t know. Even if the Admiral isn''t quite the same, he''ll still see what good crewman we all are. At the least, he''ll understand we have no hostile intentions toward him. We can work our way back to being friends."

    "Perhaps..." Soren says, chiming in. "But there are two more elements you haven''t considered, Megla."

    Soren looks at her sister meaningfully before continuing.

    "When the Admiral first awoke from stasis, he was under a tremendous mental pressure to stabilize himself, push his emotions to the back of his mind, and focus on his task at hand. The Bloodbearer was in pieces, barely functioning, and there was a fleet of Kraktol warships at his front door. He didn''t have the time or luxury to sort through his emotions. Now, he does. He has no such pressure limiting him. Additionally, once you and I came aboard, he probably had to modulate his thoughts and not show any weakness. He wasn''t sure if he could fully trust us or not."

    "Secondly," Soren continues, "The Admiral won''t ever be able to fully verify any of these video recordings. What if, instead, he suspects that we edited the videos to our advantage? For all he knows, this ''future'' business is pure nonsense. We might really be creatures made by the Children of Gh��l. We might have killed his whole crew, forged videos, and performed other heinous acts, all to get him to lower his guard."

    Megla scoffs. "We''d never do something so horrible!"

    "Of course not," Soren replies. "But does the Admiral know that?"

    Megla falls silent, as does Soren. Both sisters turn back to the Admiral, gazing upon his unmoving form with looks of reverence and sadness.

    No matter how this shakes out, their Admiral, their friend, will never be the same as he was before.

    Megla''s thoughts turn bitter.

    It''s all my fault. If I had brought a few more supplies... if I''d just outfitted myself with better weapons and relied on the Admiral less, I could have protected him. Instead, I let him take care of everything. Why didn''t I bring some better armor and guns? Why did I let him charge under the mountain recklessly? It wouldn''t have taken any effort to come just a bit more prepared.

    He died because of me. He died because I was stupid. Weak. Pathetic. I can''t even beat one measly simulated monster...

    Her thoughts become tumultuous, but Megla doesn''t give voice to the anger in her heart. Soren doesn''t even notice the look of guilt on her sister''s face.

    ...

    Minutes pass. Hours.

    Lele falls asleep in Jos��''s grasp. His warm embrace comforts her, enveloping the kitten in a world of peaceful dreams. The other Kessu curl up on the floor or wander around, some of them apprehensive, others bored.

    Still, the Admiral doesn''t move. Many of the Kessu leave to get food, then come back later, only to find the Terran still standing in the same spot, his eyes fixed on nothing in particular.

    "How much longer will it take for the Admiral to view the video files?" Megla eventually asks. "Standing in one spot like that for so many hours... it can''t be good for him."

    Penelope presses her hands together and splays out her fingers. "I do not know. It could be a few more minutes, or several hours. However, based upon the brain waves I''ve observed, it seems his emotions have become more and more tumultuous. I recommend everyone leave for a while and give the Admiral some space. When he awakens from his trance, I imagine he might say some things he''ll later regret."

    "I understand," Megla replies, firming her will. "Even so, I''ll stay. I don''t want to leave him alone, not at a time like this."

    "No, the doctor is right," Soren objects. "We should leave. The Kessu, too. I believe that right now, the Admiral is experiencing a tidal wave of emotions. We can visit him later, once he''s gathered his thoughts."

    Megla opens her mouth to retort, but thinks better of it. The giant crocodile sighs and shakes her head. "...Fine. We''ll come back in a bit, then. Penelope, you''ll tell us when he''s come to his senses, won''t you?"

    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    "Naturally," The holo-doctor says. "The Admiral is a highly trained Terran, capable of going several days without sleep if necessary. You, however, are not. Get some rest. Doctor''s orders."

    "Haha..." Megla laughs hollowly. "I''ll try."

    Shortly after, she and Soren leave. The other Kessu follow, all except for Rags, Baaru, and Nyoor. These three, all closely related to Lele, stay behind, since they want to make sure she doesn''t have any unpleasant experiences.

    It takes another half a day before Admiral Rodriguez finally blinks his eyes and lowers his head. The Terran''s subtle movements escape Nyoor and Baaru''s notice, but not Rags. The young Kessu meows in surprise. "Look! The great Precursor! He''s moving!"

    All three Kessu stay seated, watching Jos�� from a distance. The Terran shakes the fog from his eyes, takes a few steps backward, and falls into a sitting position, his knees buckling.

    Clang!

    The Terran''s heavy body thumps against the deck, jarring the metal plating. Startled, Lele awakens with a fright and jumps out of Jos��''s arms, her eyes darting around wildly. It takes the kitten a moment to realize what happened.

    "Ah! Big Baldy! Are you awake, now?"

    Her question goes unanswered. With his arms unencumbered, Jos�� raises his hands to his face and presses each palm against his eyes.

    "...Dead. All dead. It can''t be true."

    The Terran swallows heavily, his throat catching with emotion.

    "Stupid. Stupid! How could we make such a stupid mistake?! How could the Bloodbearer end up in a plasma storm?! If they''d just run more tests, paid more attention to the god-damned maintenance logs..."

    Jos�� mutters to himself, ignoring the kitten pestering him. His eyes flick back and forth rapidly as he digests the months worth of videos he''s seen, churning them around in his head like a madman.

    Suddenly, the Terran jumps to his feet. He turns toward the wall of stasis capsules, strides toward a nearby control panel, and begins pressing buttons rapid-fire.

    Penelope appears next to him, phasing into existence in an instant.

    "Crew-member Rodriguez. What are you doing?"

    Jos�� ignores her.

    "-can''t be dead. Someone had to have survived. Admiral Baruchen? Lieutenant Warner? I can''t be the only one."

    The Terran flicks through multiple screens worth of data, all of them reflecting the biological integrity of the stasis capsule''s occupants. One by one, Jos�� flicks through their contents, his expression turning grimmer and grimmer as the list of negative bio-signs feeds into his eyes.

    "Fuck. Fuck! FUCK! Goddammit!"

    He pounds the console, smashing his fist against the screen, which somehow doesn''t crack under the impact. Again and again, Jos�� helplessly punches the screen, enraged at what he sees.

    "How could they all be dead?! It''s not possible! I can''t be the only one who made it! None of this makes a goddamn lick of sense! FUCK!"

    Penelope watches, wordlessly, as the Terran releases waves of anger and rage against the poor, undeserving control panel. However, she makes no motion to stop him.

    Similarly, Lele gazes with flattened ears at her friend, Big Baldy, as he screams in rage at nobody in particular. His cries become progressively more anguished, and his fury more chaotic, as he struggles to make sense of the thoughts in his head.

    Eventually, Jos�� stops punching the console. His fists drip blood onto the floor, leaving streams of crimson liquid all across the deckplates.

    The Terran presses his bloody palms against his face and thrashes his head from left to right.

    "Nick! Nicky-boy! How can you be gone?! You were better than me! It should have been me who died, not you! Not you! God fucking dammit!"

    Then, the Terran goes still.

    He continues pressing his hands against his face, but his words become thoughts, expressed only in his heart. He sobs emotionally as countless memories, created over thousands of years, stream into his brain.

    How could Nick have died?! Why did it have to be me who survived? It''s not fair. He deserved better!

    Lele takes several steps back. She draws close to her grandmother and grandfather, who wrap their arms around her.

    "Grandpa... I''m scared. What''s wrong with Big Baldy? He''s... he''s so angry. I''ve never seen him this mad before."

    Nyoor shakes his head.

    "It''s not something you''d understand, Lele. When your mother died... your daddy felt the same way. Helpless. Angry. Resentful. Words can''t express that sort of pain... that level of loss. The Precursor just has to let his anger out. He won''t be able to move on, otherwise."

    ...

    After half an hour, Jos�� slowly lowers his hands. His face, now covered in blood, resembles a ghastly specter of death. He stares hollowly at the blood-covered panel, its bio-indicators seemingly taunting him with their readouts.

    "...Why did I have to survive? It''s not fair. If only I had died in stasis like the rest of them..."

    Penelope approaches.

    "Crew-member Rodriguez. You are one of Ramma''s Chosen. Recite your creed. Ponder on Ramma''s wisdom. What would she say at a time like this?"

    The Terran falls silent. He stops mumbling to himself, closes his eyes, and forces his thoughts to align themselves. As a soldier who has fought on innumerable battlefields, slain the mightiest of enemies, and helped topple empires, even in his weakest state, Jos�� still has the mental fortitude to take hold of his mind and replay Ramma''s Creed.

    "We are explorers. We discover."

    "We are warriors. We contest."

    "We are judges. We punish."

    "We are saviors. We protect."

    "We are followers of the Divine Emperor. We are Ramma''s Chosen."

    "We never give in to the heretics who stain our creed."

    Jos��''s breathing evens out. His grief, his endless anguish, slowly fades into the back of his mind. He opens his eyes and stares ahead, a blank expression swallowing his face.

    "...What am I supposed to do next?"

    Penelope shakes her head. "Since you are, presumably, the last living Terran in the universe, you have become the de facto leader of humanity. You alone hold the keys to your species'' survival. I do not have the right to give you any orders."

    Jos�� sighs. "But... there''s no point in continuing without everyone else. Without Nick, without my Admiral, my friends and family... what use is there in going on alone?"

    "I cannot give you any orders," Penelope repeats. "But, I may be able to offer you guidance. Suggestions. As the Admiral of the Bloodbearer, you have a unique opportunity to investigate what happened to humanity. You can uncover that which led to their demise. Perhaps, given time, you might even be able to bring them back. Does that not sound like a worthy goal? A purpose worth existing to fulfill?"

    Slowly, Jos�� nods, his head''s movement appearing somewhat robotic.

    "...a purpose. Yes. I don''t know, maybe?"

    Uncertain of what to say, Jos��''s arms drop to his sides. He takes a few steps toward another monitoring console, one with a chair placed before it, and sits down. He plunks into the seat heavily, exhaling as he lowers.

    "If everyone is dead and I''m the last human alive... that means I can''t kill myself. I have an obligation to my species, right? I have to live on for everyone else''s sake. I have to find out how they met their end."

    "I think that is a good goal," Penelope says, encouraging him. "Besides. You''re not alone, Jos��. You have friends in this new world. How about the Kessu? You think they''re cute, don''t you? You like the cute kitty cats."

    Penelope''s words, despite sounding childish, prove to be exactly what Jos�� needs to hear. He nods along, smiling faintly as he recalls the Kessu. He raises his head and looks to his right, across the room, where Lele and the other three Kessu sit.

    "...Yeah. They''re cute. Fluffy cats. I like the cute kitties..."

    Penelope rests her hand on the top of Jos��''s head. "You''ve endured well, Admiral. I know it''s been hard on you, but you''ll pull through. You just need time to yourself."

    The Terran lowers his eyes to the floor. He nods slowly, barely listening to Penelope''s words.

    "I''m... I''m going to the holodeck."

    Abruptly, the Terran stands up. Penelope watches as he starts walking toward the door. Invisible question marks pop up over her head as she observes Jos��''s odd change of mood. A moment later, she realizes something.

    "Wait. Admiral... I would not advise taking any drastic action at a time like this. You should sit down with me for several days, talk about your feelings, and-"

    "I don''t want to," Jos�� says, cutting Penelope off. "I''m the Admiral, aren''t I? You can''t order me around."

    Penelope falters. "No, I cannot."

    Jos�� strides past the Kessu. The giant double-doors open before him, and he pauses before exiting.

    "Thank you for your... guidance. But I''ll handle this my way."

    Without another word, he strides out, allowing the door to close behind him.

    The four Kessu, bewildered, turn to look at Penelope.

    "Mraww! What was that all about?" Baaru asks. "Where is the great Precursor going?"

    Penelope appears beside the Kessu instantly, teleporting to them via her holographic transmitters.

    "The Admiral is... he''s going to the holodeck. Evidently, he has yet to truly vent his emotions. I cannot recommend the actions he''s about to take... but male and female Terrans have different ways of handling their feelings. So long as he releases his built-up anguish and doesn''t stuff it down until it breaks him, he should be fine."

    Baaru, uncertain of what the bio-entity means, merely nods her head. "...Oh. I, erm, see? Well, let us hope the Precursor can handle things on his own, then."

    "Grandma!" Lele says. "I want to go see Big Baldy! Maybe I can help him!"

    "I advise against visiting the Admiral at this time," Penelope quickly responds. "We must leave him alone until he is ready to see us. Not even you will be immune from his wrath."

    Lele decides not to protest.

    "Meow! Fine, whatever. But I know Big Baldy better than anyone. He always smiles when he sees me. I bet I''d make him feel better!"

    "Haha." Penelope laughs in a vaguely human manner. "Yes, I believe you will indeed be the ultimate antidote to his loneliness. For now though, there''s nothing we can do but wait. Do not underestimate the resilience of a Terran''s mind. The Admiral once lived for two hundred years, isolated, in a hostile faction''s prison system. Enemies everywhere. Nobody to talk to. He ultimately escaped with his sanity intact. I believe we will witness a similar result this time, as well."

    Nyoor shakes his head helplessly. "The ways of the great Precursor are truly beyond us. How can we mere mortals understand the mind of one as long-lived and wise as he?"

    "I don''t know, love," Baaru says, licking her husband''s fur. "I don''t know."

    The room falls silent as everyone wonders just what exactly the Terran is going to do, all by himself, on the holodeck.

 Chapter 37: Depression and Acceptance

    "Umi. Seal the holodeck''s entrance."

    "Affirmative, Admiral Rodriguez."

    Jos�� Rodriguez, the last living Terran, stands in the middle of the vast, empty expanse of the holodeck. Its silver walls and floor, immaculately smooth and polished, gleam under the bright ceiling lights. The huge double-doors close behind him and vanish, hidden by the holographic interface.

    "Admiral," The synthmind, Umi, say. "I have already predicted the actions you''re about to take. However, at a time like this, indulging in a fantasy will not-"

    "Shut up," Jos�� says, his face blank. "I''m the leader of humanity now, right? That means the old laws don''t matter anymore. So... don''t lecture me. I''m not interested, and I won''t listen. You just do as you''re told."

    "...Very well, Admiral. I advise that you do not go too far."

    ...

    Several seconds pass. Admiral Rodriguez stares at the far wall, his thoughts contemplative.

    Then, he lowers his head. A series of mental commands transmits into the holodeck''s interface via his cerebral implants. Shortly after, a human figure appears in front of him. A man, more than a foot taller than Jos��, with black skin, a neatly trimmed black beard, and the gaze of an eagle, stands at attention. His navy blue uniform, oaken muscles, and domineering statue make him a lion among men. Just standing in his presence might cause any feeble-minded man to surrender without a fight.

    The moment the soldier''s hologram appears, Jos�� averts his eyes. He turns his head to the side and grabs his chest, trying to suppress a wave of emotion.

    "Nick... Nicky-boy... shit. I didn''t... I didn''t think it would... it would hit me this quick."

    Nicholai Azaram, once a top-ranked soldier among Ramma''s Chosen, now nothing more than a puddle of blue cryogenic fluid. His hologram stands before Jos��, a stark reminder of the great man he once was.

    Jos�� presses his fingers against his eyelids. He struggles to catch his breath while the holographic Nicholai gazes into the void, its unseeing eyes comprehending nothing. The Admiral''s chest heaves, and his eyes tear up.

    Umi speaks. "Admiral. I am detecting elevated levels of NA-14 in your neurochemical receptors. This indicates that you are experiencing profound anguish. I advise that you cease any further actions on the holodeck without a trained-"

    "I told you to shut up!" Jos�� shouts, squeezing his eyes shut. "Not another word, Umi! Just follow my orders! No back-talk! I need to do this! It''s my right, god dammit!"

    Umi hesitates before replying.

    "As you command, Admiral."

    The synthmind gives up without a fight, but Jos�� barely even notices. After more than a minute, he finally raises his gaze to look at the man in front of him.

    "Brother... brother..."

    Jos�� takes a step forward. He wraps his arms around the hologram''s waist and buries his face in its chest.

    "Uuu... hic... I can''t... I can''t take it... not without you, Nicky-boy."

    The hologram''s ice-cold skin, formed via photonic particles and held together with magnetic energy, doesn''t deter the Admiral. Jos�� barely even notices as he struggles to hold himself together. In his mind''s eye, he imagines this fake, illusory figure is none other than his dearly departed best friend and long-time partner, the man he fought alongside for thousands of years.

    "I''m so sorry, Nick. You didn''t deserve to go out like that. If only I''d run a maintenance check before we went into stasis... if only I''d asked the Admiral to sweep the local space for plasma storms... it''s all... all my god-damned fault you died."

    ...

    With no one there to judge him, Jos�� utterly breaks down. He weeps for half an hour, sobbing against the hologram''s chest, even as it stands at attention, unmoving.

    At some point, Jos�� pulls away. He sinks to the floor at the hologram''s feet and slumps forward, a look of exhaustion on his face.

    Time passes.

    An hour comes and goes before Jos�� stirs again. The Terran raises his head. He waves his hand, making Nick disappear.

    "Switch to memory replay mode."

    Jos�� summons a holographic chair and sinks into it. He waits while Umi''s neural readers engage with his thoughts and pick out the desired memories from his brain.

    Eventually, the entire holographic chamber shifts. It transforms into a militaristic logistics room, one with dozens of senior officers milling about. They walk around Jos��''s chair as if he isn''t even present, engaging in various duties as they go about their day.

    Not far from Jos��''s seat, a holographic rendition of himself and Nicholai Azaram stand at attention, their postures stiff, and their arms behind their backs. Before them, a blond-haired, dark-skinned logistics commander stares at a datapad in her hands. Her dark grey uniform contrasts with Jos�� and Nick''s navy blue colors, making her appear much more high-level and authoritative than either of them.

    "-as for those ''minor errors'' you mentioned in your reports, I''ll have the Special Investigation Team look into them. All things considered, this was another great showing from team ''Twin-Headed Hydra.'' I''ll have your next mission ready in a month or two. Anything else?"

    The woman looks up, her sparkling blue eyes meeting Jos��''s first, then Nicholai''s. Both men shake their heads while maintaining neutral expressions.

    "No, Adjunct Belfos," Nick says, replying for himself and Jos��. "We''ve included all of the pertinent information in our reports."

    "Excellent. Dismissed, then," The Adjunct replies. Without another word, she turns on her heel and strides away, leaving Jos�� and Nicholai alone.

    A few seconds pass before both men allow their shoulders to slump.

    "Haha..." Nick laughs. "Damn. The Adjunct is looking mighty fine today, don''t you think, Jojo?"

    "You always say that," The holographic Jos�� chuckles. "If you could keep your eyes off her ''assets'' for five seconds, you might be as scared of her as all the other guys. She''s out of your league, Nicky-boy."

    "A man can''t help looking when he sees something he likes," Nick says, nudging Jos��''s ribs. "It''s not my fault those creased pants give her the ass of a goddess. Just you watch, Jojo. The Adjunct''s gonna fall for me, one of these days. Just like all the others."

    "I''m sure she will," Jos�� says, while shaking his head and grinning. "Too bad you''ll already have moved on to ten other women by then. You''ll never find someone to settle down with."

    Nick smirks. "I''m a free bird, Jojo. Can''t help my nature. We can''t all be like you, finding our soulmate and... well, you know."

    Jos��''s expression dims noticeably. "That was a long time ago, Nick. I''m over Evelyn."

    "That''s what you say..." Nick replies, his smile fading away as well. "Different worlds, man. I''m sure she had a good life."

    Jos�� stares across the room, his hologram''s vacant expression perfectly mirroring the flesh and blood Jos��''s as well. Both renditions of himself momentarily gain a thousand-mile stare, looking beyond their surroundings at a distant past, one filled with regrets.

    "Hey, man," Nick says, interrupting Jos��''s thoughts. "Sorry I was such a downer. Let''s go get some food. Clam Chowder?"

    Both Jos��''s snap out of their dazes. The holographic one curls his lip in disgust. "You and your nasty- never mind. You can eat that shit if you want. I''ll have a sandwich."

    "Haha!" Nick laughs. "That look on your face! I gotcha good."

    "Yeah, you do always know what to say..." Holo-Jos�� mutters.

    Both of them walk away, and the memory file disappears.

    Moments later, the holodeck''s surroundings shift once again. This time, Jos�� appears inside an underground cave, one with light-strips attached to the ceiling, running along a long, narrow corridor. Pipes and electrical conduits run along the walls, leading down to an unknown destination in the distance.

    Nicholai, Jos��, and a pair of female officers slink down the hall, past the flesh-and-blood Jos�� seated in his holographic chair. Their dream-like bodies phase through him like ghosts as they stealthily approach a heavy, iron door bolted to the wall.

    "You think they''re here?" One of the women, a redhead, asks. "Third door''s the charm, eh?"

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    "Fackin'' hell," The other woman, a muscular brunette, grumbles. "If this ain''t the right one, I''ll blow my stinkin'' stack."

    Jos�� and Nick both clutch fifty-pound energy rifles to their chests, the black-steel carbines looking particularly menacing in the low lighting. The women, meanwhile, follow in the rear with energy pistols in their right hands, and sturdy energy shields attached to their left wrists. The see-through barriers grant them unobstructed vision, while also adding onto the protection garnered from their Survival Suits.

    "You don''t have anything to worry about," Nick says, as his iris modules shift to infrared. His irises turn crimson, making his eyes glow a fiery blood-red. "Lots of bogeys inside."

    "You fellas better be as good as the rumors say," The redhead grumbles. "We''re paying a heap of credits to get a couple of Ramma''s Chosen down here."

    "You definitely overpaid," Nick says with a smirk. "Jojo alone would''ve been enough to take out a Gh��l bunker. But since I''m here too, I''ll make sure you get your money''s worth."

    "Roit, just so long as these sick Gh��l-fackers get ripped to shreds, I''ll be happy," The brunette replies.

    The women hang back, allowing Jos�� and Nick to approach the giant metal door alone. The redhead whispers some words into a wrist-communicator on her right hand, sending a status update back to HQ, while the brunette watches with narrowed eyes.

    Jos�� and Nick arrive at the giant metal door. Its circular appearance resembles the entrance to a huge bank vault, with its top reaching some fifteen feet in the air and nearly touching the ceiling. A circular handle in its center proves the only option for entering, so Jos�� takes point, leaves his gun to hang by its strap, and starts spinning the handle.

    Nick''s casual grin fades away. A look of deadly focus consumes his face, changing him from a man one might share a beer with on a Friday night to a vicious killer capable of ripping a tiger in half with his bare hands.

    Inside the vault, several people cry out in alarm. Nick watches with his infrared vision as multiple blobs of heat hunker down behind cover and take aim at the door, waiting to see who will step through.

    Jos�� spins the handle the fifth and final time, causing the door''s internal mechanisms to audibly click into place. At that moment, both he and Nick activate their Dermal Armor, enveloping their skin in diamond-like hardened nanites.

    "Three, two, one... go!" Jos�� shouts. He yanks on the door and pulls it open, allowing Nick to jump into the room a split-second later while deactivating his infrared vision.

    What comes next is like a scene out of a horror movie. The heavily armored commando unloads a hail of blaster fire with pinpoint precision, shredding the heads and chests of dozens of men and women, all of them armed to the teeth. Their inferior weaponry, far less advanced than his, bounce off Nicholai''s hardened skin like bits of chalk striking a stone wall.

    "Die, heretics!" Nick roars. "You failures of humanity! You disgusting monsters! All of you, just die!"

    The inner room, an advanced storage facility with nutrient tubes running alone the walls, rapidly becomes covered in blood. Screams of horror and fear rise among the Children of Gh��l''s ranks as the heretics perish by the dozens. Jos�� joins in only seconds after Nick, but by the time he starts unloading bullets into the enemies, half of them have already perished.

    Within three minutes, both soldiers clear out over three hundred enemies, leaving countless bodies to spasm on the ground. Some people hold on to weak threads of life, but Jos�� quickly and systematically walks around, gunning down anyone who didn''t immediately perish in the first attack wave.

    "Tch," Nick grunts, as he kicks over one of the female combatants to look at her blood-covered face. "Too bad. All that beauty... wasted on a heretical piece of shit like you."

    "We''re in the right place," Jos�� says, as he grabs a datapad out of a dead man''s hands. "Experimental Subjects 241B, 242F, and 247A. How many commendations do you think we''ll get for destroying this place?"

    "Like I give a shit," Nick scoffs. "Central Command can shove their commendations up their asses. I''m just here to fuck bitches and kill heretics. None of that pencil-pushing bullshit matters to me."

    Jos�� laughs. "Haha. Yeah, I just like riling you up."

    "You''re a real piece of work, Jojo."

    Both men stomp through the puddles of blood, laughing as they banter idly about various things.

    The two women from outside slip inside the room. Despite their momentary shock at the horrific scene of carnage, both of them quickly assume more professional expressions before nodding at the ''Twin-Headed Hydra,'' two of Ramma''s Chosen, their top elites.

    "Bloody good work," The brunette says. "You cleaned these bastards up real quick."

    "One less group of scumbags to deal with," The redhead says. "Alright, let''s enter the experimental facility."

    Nick''s eyes flicker with rage. "No matter what we find in there, it dies. Understand? Don''t feel any compassion for Gh��l''s creations. They''ll thank you for ending their misery."

    "Noted," The redhead tersely replies.

    Minutes later, after passing through a few hallways and killing some straggler enemies, the group of four arrives inside a facility filled with nutrient vats, each one possessing transparent observation-glass for viewing the subjects inside. The redhead and brunette both scowl as they spot multiple horrific human-animal hybrid creatures, many of them with grotesque, mutilated bodies. One of them, a man-wolf hybrid, stares into the distance blankly, his pure-white eyes forever blind to the beauties of the world.

    Jos�� and Nick blast the experiment vats with their rifles, ruthlessly killing every chimera in sight. Hundreds upon hundreds of horrific experiments line the walls and sit scattered in vats around the room, their nutrient liquids spilling out and soaking the floor in disgusting, nauseating secretions.

    After slaughtering several hundred of the chimeras, Jos�� suddenly pauses before one of the vats. Inside, a little girl, perhaps six years old, stands with hunched shoulders. A huge bubble on her back, the size of a beach ball, is the only abnormality on her body. Otherwise, she appears normal in every other way.

    Nick, hearing Jos�� pause his gunfire, turns and trots over to his brother''s side.

    "Yo! What''s up, Jojo? You find someth- ...oh."

    The two women, also hearing the gunfire stop, wander over to the pair of Ramma''s Chosen. They watch from a distance, confused, as they see Jos�� hesitating to kill the little girl.

    "Hey man, I''ve got this one. Don''t force yourself," Nick says, resting his hand on Jos��''s shoulder. "Why don''t you go and do the other wing?"

    Jos�� doesn''t move. He continues to stare at the mutated child, a look of longing on his face.

    "...She''s just a little girl," Jos�� mutters. "A kid."

    Nick sighs. He lowers his gun and nods. "Yeah, man. I know you''ve got a soft spot for kids. We can''t save her, though. She''ll go berserk once she leaves that tube. They always do."

    Jos�� lowers his gaze to his rifle. "Always?"

    "Mhm."

    Nick clicks his tongue and sighs.

    "You still thinking about Evelyn?"

    Jos�� nods. "Always. It never goes away. The longing, I mean. She''s probably long dead. Probably died thousands of years ago."

    "She ain''t like us," Nick says. "We''ve got nanites. We don''t need to worry about old age. She''s a primitive."

    "If we''d brought her back..." Jos�� murmurs. "We could have changed that."

    Nick shakes his head. "And doomed her world. It was a cruel choice. You can''t keep beating yourself up."

    "Sure I can," Jos�� says, laughing hollowly. "That''s the one thing I''m good at."

    Both men fall silent.

    Nick stares at the little girl floating in the vat. Her closed eyes give the impression she''s experiencing a pleasant dream, a wonderful fantasy she might never awaken from.

    "It''s not always your fault, Jojo," Nick mutters. "Life. Things in general. You need to learn to stop blaming yourself for everything."

    Jos�� continues staring at the floor. "Easy for you to say. Not everyone can be as good at life as you."

    "You sound jealous," Nick says. "Don''t be. If anyone should be jealous, it''s me."

    The shorter Terran raises his head. "Huh? You? Jealous of me? You always were good at jokes."

    "Nah, man," Nick mutters. "You don''t get it. You think I''ve got my shit together, but I don''t. Everyone''s got some problems on their plate they''re dealing with. You see me flitting around from one lady to the next, thinking to yourself that I''m this hotshot playboy. That ain''t the truth, though. Truth is, I can''t hold down a stable relationship. You only got a few years with Evelyn... but what you and her had was more than I''ll ever experience."

    Nick closes his eyes.

    "I am jealous, Jojo. Ain''t you ever heard that saying? ''Better to have loved and lost than never loved at all.'' For all the praise I get, all the talk about how I''m a top-tier soldier... I ain''t shit. I''ll never know what it means to share the ultimate bond of trust with a nice lady. Not like you and Evelyn."

    Jos�� purses his lips. "C''mon, Nicky-boy. You''re supposed to be the upbeat one. I''m sure you''ll find a nice girl someday."

    "Maybe. It won''t be the same as what you had, though," Nick says matter-of-factly. "You two didn''t even have to talk. You could just look into each other''s eyes and... and know what the other was thinking. That sort of bond ain''t one in a million. It''s once in a lifetime."

    Nick grits his teeth. "I''m so damn jealous of you, Jojo. And yet, you still constantly mope around, beating yourself up. Nobody blames you. Not me, not even Evelyn. Someday, when I die, even if it''s right in the middle of a good fuckin'', you''ll still blame yourself. Even if you had nothing to do with it. That''s the kind of person you are."

    Jos��''s expression falls. "Don''t even talk like that. You''ll outlive me for sure."

    "Nah. You don''t know shit, Jojo," Nick laughs. "One of these days, some starry-eyed bitch is gonna stab me to death. Just you watch, I bet it''ll be Marcy. She''s always hanging around, eye-fucking me. Even after I tried to let her off easy, that broad is always looking to slit my throat for dumping her."

    "Haha!" Jos�� laughs, despite the solemn atmosphere from moments before. "Yeah, who knows. You might get done in by one of your past flames. That''s the price you pay for being such a womanizer."

    Nick raises his rifle. He gestures toward the little girl in the vat. "So. Want me to take this one?"

    Jos�� nods. "Please."

    A moment later, Nick pulls the trigger. The child perishes, while Jos�� looks away, unable to watch her death.

    As the two men turn and leave, Jos�� frowns.

    "Say, come to think of it, I don''t think I ever asked you this, but it just occurred to me..."

    Nick raises an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

    "Evelyn. You''ll chase any tail that comes your way. Why, uh... why didn''t you go after her?"

    Nick slows to a stop. A thoughtful expression passes over his face.

    "Huh. Dunno. It just never occurred to me. Maybe my bro-vision cockblocked me."

    "Bro-vision?" Jos�� asks, skeptically. "Man, sometimes, you say the damnedest shit."

    "It''s true!" Nick laughs. "We''re so close, I can tell what you''re thinking about sometimes. That''s bro-vision."

    "Yeah? So what am I thinking right now?" Jos�� asks, smirking.

    Nick puts on a thoughtful expression.

    "...If my deductions are correct, you''re thinking about how delicious a nice, juicy bowl of clam chowder would taste."

    Jos��''s smile transforms into a scowl. "Fuck you! Piss off!"

    "Hahaha! Gotcha again, Jojo!"

    Jos�� shakes his head. "God, you are such an asshole sometimes."

    Nick playfully smacks Jos��''s back. "Better hope Gh��l''s Children never find out about your hatred of clam chowder. They''ll turn it into a conditioning phrase for sure."

    "No need. You already did."

    ...

    The flesh and blood Jos�� sits in his chair, silently watching the memory file as it replays. Tears stream down his face as he recalls the conversation as clearly as if it were yesterday.

    "...You always knew, didn''t you, Nick? How am I supposed to go on without you? Without Evelyn? Without anyone. I''m not strong like you. I''m weak. Pathetic."

    Jos�� watches as the holograms continue exterminating all of the experiments. However, his attention drifts away to an unknown location somewhere in the distant reaches of space and time.

    "What would you do if it was you sitting here, Nick?"

    "What would you say? What would your goal be?"

    Jos��''s thoughts drift back to the conversation he had with Nick.

    "Evelyn. I never found out what happened to her. Maybe it''s too late to find out. Maybe I''ll never know."

    Despite the tears streaming down his face, he smiles.

    "Before I die... before my life eventually comes to an end... shouldn''t I at least find out what happened? Even if it''s a fruitless search. Even if it''s a complete waste of my time."

    "What else have I to lose?"

    ...

    Despite the grief plaguing the Admiral''s heart, a strange sense of melancholy, of peace, seizes his mind. He faintly smiles while gazing past the illusory scene before him.

    "That''s right. At the least... if I do nothing else... I don''t have to fear Central Command and their reprisals. I can find out what happened to Evelyn."

    "Yes. That will make all of this pain... worth it."

    After shaking the fog from his head, the Admiral speaks again.

    "Umi. Play the next memory module."

    From overhead, the synthmind''s voice speaks.

    "Yes, Admiral."

 Chapter 38: A Greater Conspiracy

    Three days pass.

    Admiral Rodriguez stays inside the holodeck, quietly watching various memories from his life play out in front of him. Sometimes he laughs. Sometimes he cries. Sometimes, he simply looks on in silence.

    A memory of a criminal blood-cult. They would stab hooks through people''s feet, then hang them upside down and torture them for idle amusement. In the end, a few executives of Ramma''s Chosen were found to be involved, which led to an internal purge of heretics.

    An underworld slave trading ring. Jos�� and Nick once spent five years executing hundreds of top-level members, most of whom violated children for their sick amusement. Even so, many escaped to commit countless unseen atrocities elsewhere.

    Two women, known as the Crimson Harlots. They seduced various government officials, coercing them to plant unknown devices inside top secret installations on various Core worlds. Eventually, those devices exploded, irradiating the planets and killing trillions. The sisters vanished, never to be seen again.

    ...

    The more memories Jos�� watches, the less intensely his loneliness and despair burns. Eventually, quiet logic and contemplation fill the void in his heart.

    After the Crimson Sister''s memory file fades, the holodeck goes still.

    The synthmind, Umi, speaks from overhead. "Admiral. Would you like for me to play another memory file?"

    Jos�� doesn''t answer.

    He stares into the void, a faint frown on his face.

    "Humanity committed many atrocities."

    "Naturally," Umi says, her monotone voice not revealing a personal bias one way or the other. "Of course, humans also performed many incredible acts of kindness. To look at only the negatives would require that you view history though a biased lens."

    Slowly, Jos�� nods. "You''re not wrong. I remember that one entrepreneur fellow, the ex-Orion Corp CEO. What was his name, again?"

    "James Green," Umi replies, instantly pulling the file from Jos��''s memories. "He purchased the development rights to a Class II Type-K bio-world, one with a toxic atmosphere and insufficient planetary deposits for industrial purposes. Over the course of 2,000 years, he terraformed the planet to make it habitable for human life, then turned it into a refuge for orphaned children, the galaxy over."

    "Haha..." Jos�� chuckles, a faint smile revealing itself. "I always used to hate Orion Corp. Looking back, they weren''t all that bad. I had to visit Hetaria once on official business. The people there seemed... happy."

    "Would you like me to replay that memory file, Admiral?"

    "Nah, that''s not really- actually... yes. Go ahead."

    Jos�� starts to object, only to think better of it. The holodeck shifts around him, transforming into a replica of James Green''s world, Hetaria. A glossy green sky spreads out overhead, while Jos�� appears in the middle of a city square, one with thousands of children running around, playing hide and seek, tag, or any number of other games.

    In the memory, Jos��''s holographic self stands at attention, with Nick at his side, and a few other of Ramma''s Chosen behind them. The group of warriors looks around, gazing at random children impassively, if only to pass the time.

    From the other side of the square, a dark-skinned, black-haired man comes trotting forward, a smile on his face. A small contingent of bodyguards follows in his wake, but they keep their guns holstered, knowing such simple weapons won''t be useful against any of Ramma''s Chosen.

    The man claps his hands and smiles. "Ah! Adjunct Belfos, the Twin-Headed Hydra, and the Golden Wolves! Haha, it''s great to see you again!"

    In front of Jos�� and Nick, Adjunct Belfos steps forward, a polite smile on her face. "Mister Green. It''s been a while."

    James Green shakes her hand while smiling from ear to ear.

    The Adjunct continues. "I''ve come to fill your request. Based upon the information you''ve given us, we''ve placed this mission firmly in the Epsilon tier."

    James'' smile fades, ever so slightly. "Oh? The children who''ve gone missing, we suspect they were captured by pirates. Do you believe differently?"

    "We do," The Adjunct says, her smile disappearing. "We''ve intercepted several transmissions in recent weeks from the Third Hand. It seems they have a few vessels near this sector."

    "Ah, I see. Not pirates, then..." James murmurs. "...Cultists."

    "Yes. We''ve been tracking a new underground network for the past several decades. They''re adept at camouflaging themselves amidst civilian populations, but we''ve still managed to place several moles in their ranks. This isn''t a good place to talk, though. Why don''t we head inside?"

    "An excellent suggestion," James concludes. "You know me. I''ll never pass up an opportunity to show off my wine collection."

    Both groups start to walk forward. As they do, a couple of boys run up to Jos�� and Nick, their eyes starry with excitement.

    "Wow, you two are HUGE! How did you get so big?"

    Nick smiles. "Eat your vegetables. Lots of kilgu, moppus, and spinach. That''s how you turn out looking like me and Jojo."

    Jos��''s holographic self nods. "Yep, Nicky-boy''s right. You also have to do a hundred pushups, a hundred situps, and a ten kilometer run every day. No slacking off!"

    Both boys nod, clearly enthralled. "Wow! You got it! We''ll become super soldiers someday, just like you!"

    The memory file fades away, leaving the flesh and blood Jos�� behind with a smile on his face.

    "Haha. Cute kids. Wonder what happened to them after that."

    The Admiral reflects on that last memory file. He recalls the beautiful scenery, the sight of all the kids frolicking about, and how utterly pleasant that world felt, overall.

    "Yeah, you''re right, Umi. There were some real shitbags among the humans, but there were good people, too. I can''t lump the saints in with the sinners, or I''ll lose focus on what really matters."

    Jos��''s stomach growls. With a sigh, he stands up and disperses the holographic chair, stretching to pop his joints.

    "What will you do next, Admiral?" Umi asks, as Jos�� turns to head toward the holodeck''s exit doors.

    The Terran pauses, a thoughtful look on his face. "Hm. Well, right now, I need to figure out the current galactic situation. I''m sure you''ve obtained plenty of intel I can use, so that shouldn''t be a big problem. I need to learn more about the cats and crocodiles aboard the Bloodbearer, too. Finally, I need to start looking into what happened to humanity. I should visit the Core worlds; the fortresses of the various factions from my day. That sounds like a good place to start."

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    "Understood, Admiral. And what about the demons?"

    Jos�� blinks in surprise. "The demons?"

    "Yes. Have you forgotten? The reason you died and rebirthed inside the cloning pod: It was because a Demon Emperor slew you."

    Umi transmits a visual recording to Jos��, replaying the last several minutes before his death. The Admiral''s expression blackens as he watches those last few painful moments.

    "Sorry. I... I forgot. There was so much going on, I must have overlooked this."

    "Yes, that was what I anticipated," Umi replies. "Nevertheless, now that you know, I must remind you that Ramma''s doctrine states all heretics, especially anyone related to the demons, must be purged upon discovery. Naturally, as the current leader of humanity, you may choose to ignore this doctrine. However, I calculate that you will not abandon a core creed immediately. You know how dangerous demonkind is, after all."

    Jos�� nods. "I do. Damn. How in the hell did the Shadow Emperor survive for one hundred million years?"

    "The Shadow Emperor, Yama, claimed that he split his soul and body in half. He hid away in secret, regenerating himself to his peak condition. Naturally, as demon words are filled with lies, I must advise that you not take anything he says at face value. There is likely to be more to his story than what he''s stated."

    "Indeed. Demons are notorious backstabbers. Hmm. No matter what, I have to eliminate the Shadow Emperor before doing anything else. He caught me off-guard the first time, but that won''t be the case, now. I''ll have to take every precaution. Umi, start assembling a list of equipment necessary to totally eliminate any demons we might encounter. If the Shadow Emperor has survived, we should assume others may have, as well. For all we know, there might be Broodmothers somewhere, spawning imps. If that''s the case, then..."

    Jos�� trails off. His skin pales as a horrifying thought occurs to him.

    "Umi. What are the odds that demons managed to resurge, somehow? A hundred million years ago, I mean. Could they have made a return and somehow wiped out humanity?"

    "Affirmative. The likelihood is less than one percent, Admiral," Umi replies. "but even so, I would not advise ruling such a possibility out. While it is possible, the greatest evidence that humanity did not perish to the demons lies in the fact that no notable demonic presences were mentioned inside the Kraktol databases I recovered. Demons are immortal. As such, if they were to defeat humanity, then it would not be out of the question for them to control the entirety of the Local Cluster."

    Jos�� falls silent.

    He closes his eyes and begins to replay the entirety of the Tarus II mission from the beginning. Every moment, from when he first stepped off the Slipstream alongside Megla and the Kessu, all the way to his death, as well as recordings taken by Umi remotely via Lele''s datapad. They appear in succession, giving him a play-by-play of the events that occurred.

    After more than an hour, Jos�� opens his eyes.

    "Umi. Tell me about the ''Buzor.'' They look like giant bugs. That''s what they are, right?"

    "Affirmative. The Buzor appear to be vastly enlarged insects, arachnids, and other such formerly miniaturized creatures from the Motherworld, Terra."

    "Hmm..." Jos�� grunts, stroking his beard. "Have the Kraktol or Kessu ever had dealings with the Buzor? They appear to be intelligent life-forms, not merely monsters acting on instinct."

    "My queries reveal inconclusive results," Umi says. "The Kessu, naturally, have no computerized records I can search, outside of the Slipstream''s memory banks. As for the Kraktol, I am only able to determine that they have engaged in ''amiable'' relations with certain Buzor factions. The Buzor are neither allies nor enemies with the Kraktol."

    Silently, Jos�� nods. He listens to Umi''s summary, pondering on her words while brooding to himself.

    "Something doesn''t add up, here..." Jos�� murmurs. "Originally, you stated that the Kraktol were attacking the Kessu''s homeworld to eliminate them. Correct?"

    "Affirmative, Admiral."

    "That action seems rather pointless, don''t you think? The Kessu intentionally transitioned to a post-technology civilization and ceased all relations with the galaxy at large. Even if the Kraktol hated the Kessu, it''s odd that they would wait several thousand years before launching a full-scale assault on the planet. Why not do so earlier?"

    Jos�� continues. "Furthermore, it seems the only Kraktol still alive who remember the ancient blood-grudges are the Th��lvik and some of her top-level administrators. I doubt the peasantry would care about some long-lost humiliation from a former enemy species."

    Umi pauses a moment before replying. "Admiral, may I ask what argument you are making? Do you mean to imply that there is a deeper conspiracy happening here?"

    "There always is," Jos�� replies, his voice low. "Since the Buzor are fighting alongside Yama and his minions, that implies a cooperative relationship. And why are they skulking underneath a mountain filled with Trifrancium deposits? Why choose the Kessu''s homeworld? What are they trying to hide?"

    "I have many questions..." Jos�� murmurs. "Too many to count. Did I ask anything similar before my death?"

    "Negative," Umi answers. "These conjectures you''ve stated are brand new. I have adapted them into my processing matrix and will begin calculations regarding probable answers at once. My first hypothesis is that the Kessu, Buzor, and demons are working together in some way."

    "I have a similar thought," Jos�� says. "But... it''s too early to assert that without evidence. No... instead, I need to set aside the immediate extermination of Tarus II''s demons. Gathering intelligence should be my primary goal, right now. I want to know why the demons and Buzor are working together, and how the Kessu and Kraktol fit into their plans. Seal everything I''ve spoken about with you in here inside a red-level classification file. I don''t want any of this information leaking to our... passengers."

    "Orders acknowledged, Admiral," Umi says, her voice as monotone as ever. "Do you have any other orders?"

    Jos�� frowns. He rubs his stomach and sighs.

    "No. The only thing I want at this moment is to eat some food. I''m starving."

    "Currently, your body does not possess any augmentations beyond your standard issue cerebral implant. I recommend that once you obtain some sustenance, you should immediately head to the medical bay. Bio-entity Penelope will reinstall the biomods from your previous body, allowing you to reach your peak combat potential as quickly as possible."

    Jos�� starts walking toward the holodeck''s exit doors. They slide open, only for him to emerge into an empty hallway.

    "Hm?" Jos�� says. "Where is everyone?"

    "The majority of the Bloodbearer''s personnel are currently asleep," Umi explains. "I informed them you would not emerge from the holodeck for several more hours. I calculated that you would like to maintain a certain level of privacy for a short while. Shall I inform them otherwise?"

    "No. That''s fine," the Admiral says. He turns and heads toward the mess hall, his stomach grumbling harder than before. "Damn. Now that I''ve rebirthed, I won''t be able to use my psionic abilities anymore. Not having those available is... unfortunate."

    "Affirmative. However, Admiral, not all is lost. Your former body suffered many expected abnormalities, all accumulated over thousands of years of its existence. Considering the amount of time you spent inside the stasis capsule, much of your internal structure had decomposed as well. By comparison, your current flesh-vessel is in pristine condition. Physiologically speaking, you will restart your biological clock, and soon your strength should rapidly eclipse your former self. I estimate that you will easily live for many more thousands of years."

    Jos�� rolls his eyes. "Wonderful. Lots of time to adjust to this ever-present sense of loneliness."

    "My apologies, Admiral. I did not mean-"

    "It''s a joke, Umi. A joke."

    "Affirmative. I will note this in my processing files."

    ...

    Jos�� enters the mess hall. Inside, not a soul stirs.

    He synthesizes multiple heaping plates of food and begins wildly gorging out to his heart''s content. After more than thirty minutes, the Admiral consumes the meat equivalent of five chickens, making his stomach feel as if it''s about to burst.

    "Haha!" Jos�� laughs, his voice echoing in the empty room. "I can''t remember the last time I got to ignore the rationing guidelines and pig out like this. Feels nice. Plus one to living in an empty, desolate future, eh, Umi?"

    "...Affirmative, Admiral."

    Jos�� cracks his neck and rubs his stomach.

    "I forgot what it was like living without augmentations. Is this how unaugmented humans used to feel? My eyes are drooping."

    "Presently, you do not possess any efficiency-type biomods. Thusly, your mind and body will fatigue more easily, particularly after three days of nonstop memory-viewing. I recommend several hours of bedrest to elevate your mental condition to its peak. Then, we will expend two to three days reinstalling your missing biomods."

    "Sounds good," Jos�� says, rubbing his tired eyes. "Let''s go with that."

    The Admiral rises to his feet. He stretches hard, pops his back, and yawns. As he leaves, a bio-entity materializes inside the mess hall and cleans up his dishes before disappearing.

    Jos�� strides down the corridor. His eyes droop, making him yawn several times.

    "Admiral, your quarters are in the opposite direction," Umi says. "You no longer reside in the Private barracks. You took over Admiral Baruchen''s quarters five point six months ago."

    "...Oh."

    Jos�� slows to a stop, turns around, and walks in the opposite direction, toward the Bridge.

    "I didn''t realize."

    "I calculated as much," Umi says. "You will require additional time to readjust to your living situation."

    The Admiral nods.

    "You''ve got that right."

 Chapter 39: My Admiral is Augmented

    Megla, Soren, and several dozen Kessu stand outside the Bloodbearer''s primary medical facility, staring at the frosted glass as if trying to bore holes in it with their eyes. The two Kraktol rub and wring their claws together, anxiously awaiting Umi''s announcement.

    Of all the creatures present, only little Lele appears unperturbed. The kitten sits on her grandmother''s shoulders, lazily flopping over her head with a bored look on her face.

    "You guys are so weird. Umi said the surgery wasn''t dangerous. Terran bio-implants just slide into their bodies. There''s no risk at all."

    Soren nods. "Logically speaking, I agree with you. That being said, we''ve already lost the Admiral once. I won''t take any risks."

    Megla nods furiously. "Even if there''s only a one percent chance of something going wrong, I don''t want the Admiral to die alone on that operating table. I''ll break through the glass and rush to his side."

    Patriarch Nyoor appears at the end of the hall and starts walking toward the mass of Kessu in front of the medical bay. As he approaches, leaning on his walking staff, the old cat meows in surprise. "Mraww! The Great Precursor is still in there? Why, it''s been nearly three days!"

    "You came at a good time," Soren says, as she waves a datapad in the Patriarch''s general direction. "According to the projected results, the Admiral should complete his surgery in fifteen minutes or so."

    Nyoor slows to a stop at the periphery of the crowd. He nods slowly. "Mmm, yes. The Machine God spoke to me. She told me the Great Precursor would soon emerge. I look forward to his return! Has he managed to heal the wounds inflicted upon his mind?"

    "We don''t know," Megla answers, shaking her head. "The Admiral didn''t speak to anyone after he left the holodeck. Apparently, he ate some food, went to bed, woke up, and went straight to the medical bay. If I didn''t know any better, I might think he was avoiding us."

    "I''m sure he is," Soren says. "Can you blame him? The Admiral found out that his species went extinct, he was sent one hundred million years into the future, and now a bunch of unknown aliens walk his ship''s halls. He probably felt somewhat vulnerable and wished to restore himself to full combat readiness. If I were in his position, I would make the same choice."

    Megla frowns.

    "So... he still doesn''t trust us."

    "We''ve given him no reason to do so," Soren replies. "But, I believe that in due time, especially while working to defeat a common enemy, we''ll be able to restore the Admiral''s faith in us. He''s the same man he was before, but the circumstances have changed a little."

    "Kyargh!" Megla cries. "I hope you are right, sister."

    Both crocodiles fall silent, as do the Kessu. Everyone waits with bated breath while twenty-something minutes pass.

    Just when the crowd starts to get fidgety, Umi speaks from overhead.

    "Attention, all ship personnel and civilian guests. I have successfully completed Admiral Rodriguez''s surgery. All of his biomods have been reinstalled, and his body has been restored to perfect condition. No abnormalities occurred during the installation processes."

    Soren, Megla, and Lele all breathe sighs of relief. The Kessu, not fully understanding everything Umi said, but still getting the gist that ''the Admiral is just fine,'' also exhale happily.

    Eventually, the door to the medical bay opens, and Jos�� Rodriguez steps out. He arrives amidst fifty or so meowing Kessu, all of them clearly excited to see him. His eyes widen as he instantly surveys the assembled crowd.

    The Terran chuckles. "Haha. Is everyone here to see me? I''m fine, guys. Just fine."

    "Mraww!" Nyoor meows. "Great Precursor, almighty one! You have made it through the fires of tribulation unscathed! Truly, you are an inspiration to us all."

    "Yes!" Rags yells, as the grey-colored Kessu waves to get Jos��''s attention. "You are far too hardy a fellow! We are all so glad to see you again!"

    More and more Kessu crowd around and hug Jos��''s legs, leaving the Terran to scratch his chin awkwardly. Eventually, he leans down and pets their heads, while a genuine smile crosses his face.

    "Oh, goodness. You''re all too cute for my liking. Fine, fine, come here. I''ll pet all of you if it''s the last thing I do."

    Soren and Megla watch silently from a distance. Megla''s expression becomes noticeably more downcast as the minutes pass. Eventually, she murmurs to her sister.

    "The Admiral... he likes the Kessu even more than I thought."

    "Yes," Soren agrees. "Before his rebirth, he would act friendly toward everyone, but he appears noticeably less reserved toward the Kessu now, and moreso toward you and I."

    Megla nods. "Mmm."

    ...

    Some time later, the Admiral and the Kraktol head toward the Bridge. Lele toddles along at Jos��''s side, looking up at him with adoring eyes.

    "How are you feeling, Admiral?" Soren asks.

    "I''m doing well," Jos�� answers, before hesitating a moment. "Err...?"

    "Soren. And my sister''s name is Megla."

    "Right, sorry. I don''t usually forget, but things have been a bit hectic."

    "It''s fine. We understand."

    Megla listens, but doesn''t add anything to the conversation, seemingly content with letting Soren and Jos�� speak.

    "Tell me about the demons we found on Tarus II," Jos�� says diplomatically, as he continues the conversation. "Surely, you''ve developed some conjectures about them?"

    "Yes," Soren replies. "A few. Unfortunately, I''m not familiar with ''demons'' at all. Everything I know about them comes from Umi''s databases. Naturally, with her databanks having degraded over time, the vast majority of her knowledge is limited to the memories she''s downloaded from you, and various red-level files she wouldn''t allow me to access."

    Soren hastily adds, "Not that I''m complaining. I don''t expect to view any restricted information without permission, Admiral."

    "Indeed," Jos�� answers, his tone neutral. "So what are your thoughts?"

    The Terran, Kraktol, and Kessu approach the Bloodbearer''s Bridge, with its entry doors appearing a quarter-mile in the distance.

    "The Demon Emperor, Yama, did not appear to be extremely powerful," Soren says. "He did trap us, and... well, he killed you. That being said, his weakness to light was extremely profound. I believe that, had we known of his existence, we would have been able to defeat him soundly."

    Jos�� nods. "Agreed. Shades and shadow-walkers are deadly adversaries, but only if unseen. Once you notice them, it''s easy to counter them. Additionally, the orcs, goblins, and trolls were all low-level minions, easily defeatable under ordinary circumstances. If I hadn''t let my guard down, they''d never have stood a chance against me."

    The Admiral''s words carry a slightly mocking tone, one of self-flagellation and annoyance. This doesn''t escape Soren and Megla''s notice, although they keep quiet about it.

    "Kyargh! Ahem," Soren grunts. "In any case, I believe the fact Yama appears to be working with the Buzor is the most alarming thing we''ve uncovered. Since when were there Buzor in this region of space? Why would they be hiding underneath Tarus II''s surface?"

    Jos�� glances at Soren out of the corner of his eye.

    "Oh? Are the Kraktol enemies with the Buzor?"

    "No. We''re not enemies, but we aren''t allies, either," Soren responds. "To be fair, I''ve only heard trickles of information related to the Buzor, all thanks to my former commander, Orgon the Unkillable. However, what I always understood to be true was that the Buzor and Kraktol worked together on a few strategic alliances in the past. Now that we''ve found them under the Kessu''s surface... I''m uncertain about what action we should take."

    Finally, Megla speaks. "Agreed. Admiral, the Buzor are very different from the Rodaks and Mallali. We Rodaks are hierarchical, with singular monarchs ruling us from the top down, like a pyramid. The Mallali, however, typically form political parties and work together out of necessity, or when their interests align. The Buzor act differently. Every subspecies has its own hierarchy."

    "For example," Megla continues. "The Mitteras have a queen who rules from the top. Her worker and military drones follow her orders absolutely and without question. There are many colonies of Mitteras, each one possessing their own world. Each colony has its own queen. They sometimes fight each other, but without exception, all of their differing colonies will instantly cooperate if they discover a common interest."

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    "Then there are the Wuspa, who similarly have a single queen leading them. However, among the Buzor, the Wuspa are often considered the most aggressive. They feud with other Buzor constantly, and are nowhere near as civilized as the Mitteras."

    Jos�� listens to Megla''s explanation without interruption. As everyone enters the Bridge, Megla continues describing other subspecies of the Buzor, including the Mentii, the Cantors, and the Disperra.

    At that last one, Jos�� raises a finger. "The Disperra. You said they were the Buzor you observed working with the demons?"

    "That''s right. If any Buzor would be working alongside these ''demons,'' it makes sense they''d be the Disperra. They are among the most treacherous and blackhearted of all the Buzor. Some Disperra family units even eat their own young, as horrifying as that sounds."

    Nyoor snorts. "Hmph. The ancient records state many times that you Kraktol did the same thing. You''re one to talk."

    "Stupid old Kessu!" Megla shouts. "What nasty lies! How could you believe such imbecilic claims?!"

    Jos�� chuckles. "Methinks thou doth protesteth too much."

    "Admiral..."

    "I''m kidding, I''m kidding."

    The conversation shifts direction as Jos�� turns his attention to the Bridge. Inside, a few dozen bio-entities sit at the ship''s various consoles, plugging away silently at all the necessary work that needs doing.

    "Umi, did you finish collating a list of items necessary to eliminate the Shadow Emperor?" Jos�� asks.

    "Affirmative, Admiral," Umi beeps. "Under ordinary circumstances, attempting a slay a Demon Emperor would require a full complement of Terran soldiers. In terms of combat strength, Yama is a target we can classify as ''low power, high elusiveness.'' This means that, once you don a combat suit, he will be unable to harm you. However, at the same time, anywhere that there is darkness, Yama and his shadow army can hide, eluding our search parties."

    "Therefore, this is not a mission that you can perform alone, Admiral. To kill the Shadow Emperor, we will need to encircle him with light-casting devices. Then, we must slowly tighten our borders until he cannot escape. An army of 500,000 may not be enough, let alone the few combat-capable personnel we have aboard the Bloodbearer now."

    "Is that so?" Jos�� asks, his expression darkening. The Terran takes a seat in the Admiral''s chair, while Megla, Soren, and Nyoor all sit nearby. "We shouldn''t rely on the Kessu for this mission. They''re too ignorant with regards to technology. Realistically, our forces will have to consist of myself, Megla, and Soren."

    "Ooh!" Lele meows. "I can help! Me, me! I''m a tech-wizard!"

    Jos�� shakes his head. "Maybe so, but you''re just a child, Lele. I appreciate the enthusiasm, but... the battlefield is no place for a kitten."

    "Aww... that''s no fair."

    Lele crosses her arms and grumbles under her breath, but Jos�� merely chuckles and returns to his conversation.

    "Umi, can you, perhaps, synthesize a drone army? If we can gather a few hundred drones, we might be able to use them for this mission. They can bathe the underground tunnels in light, preventing Yama''s escape. Based upon the videos you''ve shown me, that Demon Emperor seemed incredibly cocky and self-assured. He probably won''t expect me to show up again. Perhaps we can catch him in a trap."

    "Drones are not out of the question," Umi replies. "However, I will require a significant amount of time to synthesize enough of them to flood the inner caves. If Yama realizes our intentions, he may use an escape route we cannot predict and escape our grasp. Once he goes on the alert, killing the Shadow Emperor will prove all but impossible. By that point, no number of drones will help us."

    Jos�� falls silent. The Terran Admiral closes his eyes and frowns as he falls deep in thought.

    "Yama is no ordinary demon. During the Expansion Era, when humanity fought the Volgrim, the demons united with our alien adversaries and nearly destroyed us. Yama, naturally, was one of the demons we faced on many occasions. He is an expert assassin, a demon capable of silently killing any target in the dead of night. Where there is darkness, he can appear."

    The Admiral continues. "I studied records of every ancient Demon Emperor extensively, as did all of Ramma''s Chosen. We knew never to take any chances with them. Even after killing them, we knew there were dark, heretic methods capable of reviving them. The Emperor of Legions, Mephisto, for example. He was one such demon capable of bringing the dead under his control. If such a demon arose in secret, unbeknownst to us, then reviving our ancient enemies would always be a possibility."

    The Admiral opens his eyes. He looks at Megla and Soren. "Something is bothering me, though. You two hadn''t heard of demons until a week ago, when Yama attacked us. Isn''t that right?"

    Soren nods. "Yes, Admiral."

    "And you hadn''t heard of Terrans, either?"

    This time, Megla nods. "That''s right."

    "But Yama does exist," Jos�� says, his voice low. "He would remember the Terrans. If we assume that to be the case, and if we assume he is working with or alongside the Buzor, then why wouldn''t he mention my people, even in passing? Don''t you find that strange?"

    Megla blinks. "I''m sorry, Admiral. I don''t follow."

    "Think about it," Jos�� explains. "None of us know the extent to which Yama''s relationship with the Disperra extends, or if any other Buzor might be involved with him. However, if these Disperra aren''t cut off from the galaxy, and keep in contact with the other Buzor, it seems likely someone would know of the demons by now, and potentially even the name of humanity. Yet, you''ve never heard of demons until finding them on Tarus II. It''s almost as if... the Buzor are deliberately keeping Yama''s existence a secret."

    Soren strokes her chin. "You may be correct, Admiral. But I''d go a step further."

    "In what way?" Jos�� asks.

    "There''s something odd about Tarus II," Soren explains. "Something doesn''t add up. Over the past several days, I''ve had a lot of time to think. Why would the Disperra and Yama choose Tarus II, a planet belonging to the Kessu, to settle down? Why go to such great lengths to hide their presence? You can''t explain the Trifrancium deposits we found as being a natural formation. Someone placed those deposits deliberately. Might the Buzor be hiding something down there, in the planet''s depths?"

    Jos��''s breath catches. "Hiding something? Like what? You know more about the Buzor than me."

    "I do," Soren says, "but not ''much'' more. My knowledge is frustratingly shallow. If I had to guess, my first assumption would be that the Buzor and Yama were working together. Perhaps they''re planning to use his shadow army for their own purposes?"

    "...Hm. I suppose that''s possible..." Jos�� mutters. "But the ancient records regarding Yama stated that he was a proud and haughty demon. His ''harem'' was like an extension of himself. I can''t see him lending out his precious converts to someone else, at least not on principle."

    "Does Yama possess any abilities that might be useful from a logistical perspective?" Megla asks. "The Buzor might want to use him as a secret weapon. A trump card."

    "Yama manipulates shadows and darkness," Jos�� answers. "His magic is high-level, but outside of assassinations, I can''t see his utility being extraordinarily high."

    "Admiral, there is one thing I''d like to mention," Soren says, her voice raising an octave. "The Buzor. Their space-faring capabilities are terrible, the worst of all the factions in the Milky Way. How did they arrive on Tarus II undetected? Is it possible they were here before the Kessu chose Tarus II as their homeworld?"

    "I have no idea," Jos�� says. "You two know far more about the Buzor than me. Now is your chance to demonstrate your value."

    "The Buzor have virtually no space-worthy vessels," Soren explains. "Instead, certain Buzor have learned to grow void-traversing carapaces. Gigantic fleshy bodies that float around planets. Then, many Buzor of a certain species will enter those carapaces and use them to travel to other star systems."

    Jos�� frowns. "Pardon my incredulity, but... how?"

    "I''m... not entirely certain," Soren lamely replies. "I asked my superiors about the Buzor on several occasions, but the answers I received were mixed. The best I can guess is that the Buzor somehow create wormholes using Trifrancium, or perhaps they control a secret inter-system travel device, such as a Subspace Cannon. That''s all I''ve hypothesized."

    "More mysteries," Jos�� says. "Delightful. Well, if possible, I''d like to find a Disperra, capture them, and bring them to the Bloodbearer for... ''questioning.'' Perhaps then we''ll get the answers we need."

    Hardly has Jos�� finished speaking before Umi beeps from overhead.

    "Admiral Rodriguez. I have detected a warp signature at 003-mark-714. In seven minutes, fourteen seconds, a ship will arrive inside Tarus II''s gravity well."

    Both of Jos��''s hearts skip a beat. He sits up straight in his chair and pulls the computer console arm inward to face himself. "What details can you give me?"

    "According to the Kraktol database I downloaded several months ago, the incoming vessel appears to be a Fifth Era Diplomat-class starship. Its combat capabilities are negligible, even among other Fifth Era ships. I have identified it as the KRC Red-Tongue, a vessel belonging to the Kraktol empire."

    "The Red-Tongue?" Megla repeats. "That''s... that''s my father''s ship. Drall Brighteye."

    "Your father? Does that mean he''s on our side?" Jos�� asks.

    "I don''t know," Megla says, sheepishly. "He and the Th��lvik were once partners. They both sired a daughter, Kisa Kindris, the true heir to the Kraktol empire. By comparison, I''m only a member of Lord Drall''s offshoot family. We''ve never been particularly close."

    Soren clears her throat. "Erm. Also, Admiral... Drall was directly involved in planning the attack on Tarus II. He wanted the Kessu dead."

    "As did the Th��lvik," Megla adds. "To be fair, most Kraktol don''t particularly care about the Kessu. Their sins against our forefathers were ages ago. The vast majority of us have long-since moved on from those ancient wounds. However, Lord Drall and the Th��lvik were alive during those days, many thousands of years ago. It''s likely they both still hold resentment in their hearts toward the Kessu."

    Jos�� looks at Lele, then smiles.

    "I see. It''s likely he''s our enemy. Well, whether he is or not, his ship is no threat to us. Umi, didn''t I order you to erase the memories of all the Kraktol personnel? Also, to erase any knowledge regarding our vessel from their data files?"

    "Affirmative, Admiral." Umi replies. "Recovering anything useful would most certainly have been impossible. I am unable to calculate a possibility wherein the Kraktol recovered any knowledge regarding the Bloodbearer. I postulate that Lord Drall, as a top leader of the Kraktol, has come to Tarus II alone to investigate what caused his fleet''s return home."

    "That''s probably the case," Jos�� mutters, his tone uncertain. "Just to be safe, let''s keep our guard up. Go to yellow alert. Calculate Lord Drall''s arrival vectors and prepare to lock onto him with a tractor beam. When he does discover us, I don''t want him to pull a fast one and skip away with knowledge of the Bloodbearer in his ship''s files."

    "Orders acknowledged, Admiral. The Red-Tongue''s scanners are greatly inferior to the Bloodbearer''s. I can state with a 99% confidence threshold that Lord Drall will not detect our vessel until the moment of his arrival."

    "Perfect."

    Jos�� leans back in his chair and exhales.

    "Megla, Soren. I must apologize in advance if I end up harming your father. I hope he doesn''t try to fight back, or this could get messy."

    "My father is many things," Megla says. "but a fool is not one of them. The moment he recognizes the difference in firepower, he will concede peacefully. If I speak to him, I''m sure he''ll listen. At the least, he''ll know that Soren and I went missing from the Dragon Breath''s bridge crew. He may even expect us to be somewhere on Tarus II."

    "That''s right," Soren adds. "It''s more than likely the reason Lord Drall has come in person is to investigate what happened to my sister and I."

    "I thought you two weren''t close to him?" Jos�� asks.

    "Well, we aren''t," Megla says. "But you never know. He might be more of the sentimental type than I remember."

    "Fair enough. Human parents could surprise their children sometimes, too," Jos�� laughs.

    The Admiral''s laughter fades away, leaving him with a familiar sense of emptiness in his chest.

    Mom. Dad. I miss both of you dearly. If only I could have said goodbye.

    The Admiral falls silent.

    His gaze fixates on the temporal map, where Lord Drall will soon appear.

 Chapter 40: Meeting Roaring Dragon (Arc 5: Mountain Expedition)

    "The Kraktol vessel will exit warp-space in T-minus three seconds and counting. Two seconds. One second."

    Umi, the Bloodbearer''s synthmind, speaks from overhead, announcing the arrival of the Red-Tongue above Tarus II.

    A moment later, a brief flash of light appears off the Bloodbearer''s starboard bow. A starship, not even a thousandth the Bloodbearer''s size, its body the shape of a trident, emerges into the void. Instantly, the Bloodbearer fires a tractor beam, grabbing the Red-Tongue before it can react.

    "The tractor beam has successfully connected, Admiral." Umi announces. "The Red-Tongue is hailing us."

    Admiral Jos�� Rodriguez, the last Terran, leans back in his Commander Chair. Megla stands on his right with her arms crossed, while Soren stands on his left, her posture noticeably more relaxed.

    "Onscreen," Jos�� says, his tone brusque.

    The Bloodbearer''s bridge monitors activate simultaneously, revealing a large, red-scaled male Kraktol, his coloration not too dissimilar to Megla''s. He, too, sits inside a Commander''s chair, while a red-and-black-scaled female Kraktol sits in the chair beside him.

    Jos�� stays silent. He smiles, allowing the Kraktol, Drall Brighteye, to speak first.

    Let''s see how he reacts to my presence, Jos�� thinks. I still don''t know if I can trust Megla and Soren. Perhaps their father will give me some hints.

    Expecting a look of surprise or alarm on Lord Drall''s face, Jos�� finds himself at a loss when the Red-Tongue''s commander stands up, takes a step forward, and drops to one knee. He bows his head respectfully.

    "Great Precursor, the last living Terran, Jos�� Rodriguez. I am Lord Drall Brighteye! Graugh! It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance!"

    Momentarily frozen in shock, Jos��''s hearts pound erratically.

    "You... you know who I am? I erased your ship''s databases, and their crew''s memories!"

    Lord Drall keeps his head lowered as a sign of respect. "Graugh! Yes, you are truly a wise, cunning, and merciful being! The Kraktol stand in awe of your tactical prowess! Had we not exhausted every last resource at our disposal, we might not have been able to uncover your true identity. Please, accept my deepest and most sincere apologies for the actions of that terrible, greedy, worthless officer, Orgon the Unkillable! Bahaha! As a gesture of goodwill, we have since changed his title posthumously to Orgon the Betrayer!"

    Drall raises his head, a look of fervent anger in his eyes. "That bastard! He dared to betray the Th��lvik, seeking to steal your vessel for himself. How shameless! We have already begun purging his family from our society! As for his attack on you, the last of the Precursors, ten thousand deaths would not be enough to repent for his crimes! Let your heart be at ease knowing the Kraktol will never treat you as vilely as that bastard-spawn once did!"

    Listening to Lord Drall''s words, Jos��''s scalp-veins pulse painfully, making him wonder just what in the heck Drall is even talking about. Having recently arisen from the dead, the newly revived Jos�� doesn''t feel one drop of anger or remorse toward Orgon, seeing him more as someone else''s problem from the past. Even if Jos�� hadn''t died, he probably wouldn''t remember such a low-level character a few years from now, let alone give a damn about his fate.

    "That''s... that is good, I suppose..." Jos�� murmurs. "Erm. So, you know of my existence, yet you came here alone, in a defenseless craft. Why? And how did you find out about me?"

    Lord Drall rises to his feet. He assumes a dominant, haughty stance. "The Kraktol empire is strong! We possess many ways of extracting methods from the dead, methods which allowed us to find out what happened to Orgon, posthumously. Naturally, that included everything he knew about you. Please forgive me for my impertinence, Almighty Terran! I know that you wish to remain hidden, and thus, we have not spread knowledge of your existence beyond the Th��lvik, myself, and the crew aboard this ship."

    "I see," Jos�� says, returning his face to a neutral expression. "So you searched Orgon''s dead brain for knowledge. Very clever. Let me postulate; you must have scanned his brain to create a synthmind. Is that about it?"

    Lord Drall falters. The Kraktol''s brave exterior crumbles noticeably. "Y-you... how did you guess?"

    "Oh? I got it on the first try?" Jos�� asks, smirking visibly. "I was going to posit a few other guesses, but it seems you''re pretty easy to read. Haha! I''m a Terran, Lord Drall. Naturally, I am intimately familiar with Terran technology."

    Several seconds of awkward silence follow. Lord Drall''s reddish scales flush pink with embarrassment before he clears his throat and regains his balance.

    "I-incredible, Admiral Rodriguez! The Th��lvik was right to put her trust in you! Our great leader was touched by your kindness toward the other Kraktol you spared. The only one you killed was Orgon the Betrayer, despite your ability to slaughter every ship''s occupants like Kessu! Truly, you are a kind and merciful being, which is why the Th��lvik wished to show her sincerity by ordering me here, unarmed. Not only myself, but her beloved daughter, the Malvik!"

    Drall bows and gestures to his right, toward the black-and-red-scaled Kraktol female. The young girl takes a stiff step forward and bows at the waist.

    "Ah, erm, great Precursor! We- I mean, I am at your pleasure- I mean, I am pleased to make your acquaintance... ahaha..."

    Clearly nervous, the girl shivers slightly, having seen the power of the Precursor''s ship, and his viciousness in melee combat. Were she to accidentally anger him, he could wipe out the Red-Tongue without raising a hand.

    Despite the formal occasion of meeting two of the Kraktol''s leaders, Jos�� can''t help but chuckle. "Haha. Be at ease, Kisa Kindris, daughter of the Th��lvik. In truth, I am more than a little touched by the sincerity you''ve shown. You came here unarmed, not knowing how I might react. If I were to attack now, I would be able to kill the Th��lvik''s only heir, yet she did not hesitate to place such a precious asset before me. Since you have come here while lacking any hostile intentions, please allow me to be blunt."

    Jos�� pauses for a half-second before continuing. "Lord Drall. Why have you come? Something tells me your trip is a multi-faceted one."

    The commanding Kraktol raises his head. For the first time, his eyes glance from left to right at Megla and Soren.

    "Graugh! Admiral Rodriguez, you are absolutely correct. I have many reasons for coming here. As Orgon the Betrayer has attempted to backstab my queen, she wished for me to come here as her most trusted confidante. I came willingly, because I wished to know the fate which befell my daughters. It pleases me greatly to see them at your sides."

    Megla nods. "Father."

    Soren nods as well, but says nothing. Unlike Megla, she is not Drall''s blood-daughter, but an adopted one.

    "Why so formal?" Drall asks, chuckling lightly. "Leaving Orgon behind was a brilliant choice, Soren, Megla. The moment that backstabber showed his true colors, you didn''t hesitate to abandon his side. Such decisiveness will get you far in life!"

    Jos�� continues to smile, but his eyebrows curve downward, ever so slightly.

    Why do I get the impression there is some hidden meaning in Lord Drall''s words? Did Soren and Megla join me to pursue some ulterior motive?

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    The Admiral silently ponders the recordings he observed while in the holodeck, carefully reconsidering the moments where Soren and Megla came to his side.

    Soren and Megla once whispered about how they planned to kill me and save Orgon, yet they changed their tune once I killed him. Can I truly trust someone who changes their allegiance so abruptly?

    He doesn''t give voice to his thoughts, and instead stays silent, merely listening to the conversation between the father and daughters.

    "It was my decision to join Admiral Rodriguez," Soren says, her voice low. "I first thought to attack the Admiral, but changed my mind when he gave an insightful speech shortly before killing Orgon. Megla was far more hesitant and distrustful, at least for the first few days. Eventually, she and the Admiral began to care for one another and forged a sturdy bond."

    Soren continues. "I know what you are thinking, Lord Drall. You believe that I chose to follow the Admiral because I sought to empower the Kraktol Empire; because I wished to join his side so that he might someday become allies with the Kraktol."

    "You are wrong."

    "I joined the Admiral because, for the first time in my life, I felt as if I had met a kindred spirit. I have lived among battle-maniacs and revenge-minded simpletons my whole life. I have always found it frustrating not having anyone around who could understand me, and likewise, who I could fully understand in return."

    "Therefore," Soren concludes, "you would be wrong to assume I joined Admiral Rodriguez out of any love for the Kraktol Empire. So long as his interests align with the Th��lvik''s, so too shall mine. And if he should give the order to eliminate the Kraktol, I will be the first to obey. I hold no animosity toward the Kraktol, and similarly, I hold no love. I merely seek the ''truth'' in life, the pure logic of that which makes the most sense. And seeing how the Admiral dealt with an enemy who desperately wished to kill him, I realized at that moment I had found my calling."

    Soren falls silent, leaving Jos�� and Megla speechless. Lord Drall, likewise, opens and closes his mouth a few times before stammering out a reply.

    "I... I see. You are correct, my half-daughter. I assumed it was you who chose to follow the Terran, and that you had done so to improve our relations with the last Terran. Forgive me for thinking otherwise. You are an honest Kraktol, and an admirable soul, even if I find it reprehensible that you would turn your back on the Th��lvik."

    Jos�� gazes at the side of Soren''s face, a different look in his eyes from only moments before.

    "Haha. That''s a pretty bold statement, Soren."

    Soren keeps her eyes locked forward on Lord Drall. "I meant every word, Admiral."

    "I see. Thank you."

    A brief silence falls upon the group. Awkwardly, Lord Drall clears his throat.

    "Graugh! Well, Admiral Rodriguez. What should we do next, then? I would like it if you viewed me as an ally, or at the least, not as an enemy. With regards to Orgon''s disgusting actions, I insist that I repay you for your kindness and mercy toward our fleet. It seems that you have chosen to ally with the Kessu. Since that is the case, the Th��lvik has instructed all of our troops to permanently bring an end to all hostilities with our former enemies."

    "Oh?" Jos�� says, turning his attention back to Lord Drall. "Just like that? You sent a whole fleet to Tarus II, intending to wipe out the Kessu, and now you''ll give up forever on that goal? That seems a bit abrupt. Don''t tell me this is all because you know you cannot stand against me."

    "Naturally, naturally," Drall ways, waving his claws nonchalantly. "You are far too powerful a foe for us to consider escalating tensions. Eliminating the Kessu was nothing more than a passing desire. Truth be told, they are no longer any threat to the Kraktol Empire. Leaving them alive or killing them is all the same to us."

    The Admiral stares at Lord Drall''s projected image. He scrunches up his face and frowns deeply.

    "Huh. Imagine that. Say, Lord Drall? Since I have you here, the second-highest-ranked Kraktol in your entire empire, there''s something I''d like to ask you about."

    Drall nods. "Go on."

    "Tell me," Jos�� says, enunciating slowly. "What do you think about the demons?"

    The Kraktol leader blinks twice. He cocks his head and frowns. "I beg your pardon? Perhaps my translation interface is not functioning properly. Could you repeat the question?"

    Jos�� nods. "The demons. What do you think of them?"

    Lord Drall''s expression morphs into total confusion. He glances around his Bridge, even at Kisa Kindris. She shrugs, just as confused about Jos��''s question.

    "I... I am sorry, Admiral Rodriguez," Lord Drall says, sheepishly. "I do not understand the question. I am not familiar with this term, ''demon.'' If you are testing me, I must apologize for my failure."

    Jos��''s frown shifts slightly as equal confusion appears on his face.

    Odd. Perhaps Lord Drall is a better actor than I expected. I can''t sense the slightest discrepancy in his words and actions. If he does know about the demons on Tarus II, he''s faking his ignorance remarkably well.

    "Let me change my question," Jos�� says. "How do you feel about the Buzor?"

    Lord Drall''s confusion fades visibly. "Ah. The Buzor. Well, that question is one I can answer. The Kraktol have had dealings with them in the past, Admiral Rodriguez. I would not describe our relationship as an alliance, but more one based upon mutual benefits. Historically, we have mostly dealt with the Mitteras and Mentii. The other Buzor have not been quite as amenable to our causes."

    "I see," Jos�� says. "And the Disperra?"

    "Graugh! I am not fond of them," Drall grunts. "May I inquire as to why you brought them up?"

    Jos�� cocks his head, ever so slightly. He observes Lord Drall''s movements, allowing his iris modules to bring multiple discrepancies to his attention.

    Ah, there it is, Jos�� thinks. Finally, a lie. Lord Drall doesn''t know anything about the demons, but he''s definitely holding something back about the Buzor.

    The Admiral smiles. "Oh, it''s nothing, really. A passing fancy. I was just curious how you felt about the Disperra, given we''ve found a whole colony of them hiding beneath Tarus II''s surface. You wouldn''t happen to know anything about that, would you?"

    Lord Drall stiffens. "No, I cannot say I have."

    "Ah-ah-ah," Jos�� says, his smile widening. "No lying. You''ve been honest this whole time, Lord Drall. Unfortunately for you, I''ve interacted with Megla and Soren quite a lot, recently. I''ve learned the Kraktol ''tells.'' Do not forget that, by pressing a single button, I can blast you out of the sky. I do not like it when people lie to me. Don''t test my patience."

    Lord Drall hesitates. He glances at Kisa, then back to Jos��.

    "Graugh! I... cannot speak about this in public. Admiral Rodriguez, would you be amenable to us taking this discussion to a more... private channel?"

    "Anything you wish to say to me, you can say in front of my crew," Jos�� says. "I trust everyone here."

    "That isn''t what I mean..." Lord Drall says, gesturing around himself.

    This time, it''s Jos�� who hesitates.

    He is keeping a secret after all. Not only that, but he''s keeping it from his crew? That''s strange. Could this be hidden even from Megla and Soren?

    "What level of privacy do you require?" Jos�� asks.

    "You and me, but nobody else," Drall answers. "I will come to your vessel, alone and unarmed. I doubt you have any reason to fear me anyway, given how you beat the tar out of Orgon, but I do not wish for you to suspect me of planning any nefarious deeds."

    "There''s no need for that level of caution," Jos�� says, flippantly. "I''ll bring your ship to dock aboard the Bloodbearer. Your crew will stay inside, and you may depart to visit me one-on-one."

    "Admiral," Soren says. "Would you prefer that Megla and I not attend this meeting?"

    "That''s right," Jos�� says with a nod. "But don''t worry. I will relay the contents of my discussion with Lord Drall to you afterwards, depending on what he says."

    "That isn''t necessary, but I appreciate the gesture," Soren says, nodding. "You are the Admiral. You may do as you please."

    Jos�� rises from his chair. He smiles while gently squeezing Soren''s shoulder. "Don''t look down on yourself. I appreciate your honesty. You are a valuable member of my crew."

    Turning back to the Bridge viewscreen, Jos�� adds, "Lord Drall, I''ll see you in a few minutes. It seems fate has smiled upon you, on this day."

    "Indeed it has," Drall says.

    The viewscreen feed turns off, deactivated from Drall''s end.

    Jos�� starts to walk away, while Megla and Soren follow him.

    "Admiral," Megla says, her words coming slowly. "Why did you ask my father about the demons and the Disperra?"

    Pausing for half a beat, Jos�� turns his head toward Megla.

    "Do you really think Orgon''s attack on Tarus II was intended solely to eliminate the Kessu?"

    Bewildered, Megla''s eyes widen in surprise. "It... it wasn''t?"

    "I suspect not," Jos�� says, picking up the pace. He leaves the Bridge with both Kraktol in tow. "Think about it. Why would the Th��lvik dedicate such a massive invasion force and so many talented officers and soldiers, all to annihilate a planet of primitives? Why put so much manpower to use against a populace incapable of fighting back? Suppose that, during this attack, the Mallali had launched a counter-assault on one of your military worlds, or perhaps even your homeworld. Wouldn''t it be extremely inconvenient, to say the least, if you lacked the ships necessary to defend yourselves?"

    Slowly, Megla nods. "...Yes. I suppose so. But I don''t understand. What other reason could she have, beyond eliminating the Kessu? Wait... don''t tell me..."

    Megla''s expression contorts into one of surprise. "She knows about Yama and the Disperra?"

    "No," Jos�� replies. "Not Yama. The Disperra, yes. She must have known there were Buzor on Tarus II. That''s why she send hundreds of frigates and cruisers to attack a now-harmless populace of former enemies. I suspect the Kessu were never her primary goal. The Buzor were."

    "But the Buzor are our trade partners, if not our allies," Soren murmurs. "Why attack them?"

    "Good question," The Admiral answers. "That''s what I intend to find out."

    "There''s something going on here," Jos�� continues. "Something bigger than all of us. I''ve fought in more wars than I can remember. I''ve unseated dictators and helped topple empires. I may not know what''s happening beneath Tarus II''s surface, but I do know it''s enormous."

    Jos��''s tone turns ominous.

    "Whatever is happening down there... it involves something capable of shattering the galaxy''s power balance."

    "I can practically smell a conspiracy."

 Chapter 41: Crouching Kessu, Hidden Kraktol

    The last Terran, a remnant of his extinct species, arrives before the Kraktol vessel, the Red-Tongue. Despite being only a hundredth the Bloodbearer''s size, the Red-Tongue still presents a massive, imposing image when set against the backdrop of the Bloodbearer''s Shuttle Bay. It devours the metallic interior and towers above the nearby shuttlecraft, making the Slipstream and other similar vessels appear positively tiny in comparison.

    Admiral Jos�� Rodriguez, flanked by Megla and Soren, stops before the Red-Tongue''s middle bow module, one of the three forward-facing spikes that gives the Red Tongue its distinctive trident shape. He folds his hands behind his back and straightens his posture while he waits for the landing ramp to lower.

    Half a minute later, it does. Lord Drall, second in command of the Kraktol Empire, strides down the ramp and holds his scaled palms outward, displaying an open and honest lack of hostility. "Admiral Rodriguez! Graugh! It is my greatest honor to meet you, a living Precursor, face to face!"

    Kisa Kindris, daughter of the Th��lvik, follows behind Lord Drall, her movements noticeably more stiff and awkward. Her reptilian eyes flick around the hangar bay, where she spots dozens of Kessu working on repairing the Bloodbearer''s many dilapidated shuttlecraft. Along with them, various holo-Terrans mill about, using their advanced programming and subroutines to guide the Kessu better toward fixing the craft as needed.

    "Wow! This v-vessel is... gigantic. I''ve not seen something like it in all my life!"

    Lord Drall glances at Kisa. "Graugh! Where are your manners? Greet our benefactor first before praising his vessel! ...Even if it is an incredible piece of craftsmanship."

    The two of them arrive at the bottom of the ramp, making Jos�� chuckle to himself. Lord Drall, ever the intimidating Kraktol on the holoscreen, still comes up half a head short compared to Jos�� himself.

    Based on the information I''ve gathered from Soren, Jos�� muses silently, the Kraktol appear to be a matriarchal species. The females tend to take mating priority, and thus their bodies are larger, while the males are often little more than footsoldiers who follow their female leaders'' orders. Indeed, the Th��lvik is likely quite a bit taller than Drall, and therefore, me.

    The Admiral keeps his thoughts to himself. "Kisa Kindris, there''s no need to act stuffy and formal around me. Just act as you would if you were in your own home. While you''re here, feel free to walk around and view the ship. Soren and Megla would be happy to show you some of the more interesting sights and scenery."

    Behind Jos��, Megla raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised by his words. She doesn''t contradict him, though, and merely nods. "Kyargh! Yes, half-sister. We have not seen each other in decades! It would be wonderful to catch up on the latest chatter and gossip."

    Soren nods. "Indeed. I hope things have been going well for you on Dragua."

    Kisa steps past Lord Drall and glances at the Terran shyly, noticing how much more imposing he appears in person. "Uh, um... yes. Something like that. You know how mother can be so very... attentive."

    Soren, Megla, and Kisa stroll away, leaving Jos�� alone with Lord Drall. The Admiral follows Kisa''s movements with his eyes for several seconds, keeping an eye on her back as she leaves.

    Lord Drall chuckles. "Graugh! I see, now. So that is why you chose Megla and Soren to accompany you! Indeed, Sir Terran, you have keen-sighted eyes for the beautiful treasures of the Kraktol Empire! My daughters are of the finest breed, and will make for excellent mating partners in the future!"

    The Admiral frowns for a moment, before turning back to Lord Drall and smiling. "You misunderstand. I have no... sexual interest in Megla, Soren, or Kisa."

    "Graugh! A fine jest, if ever I''ve heard one!" Drall guffaws. "Those lingering eyes, those polite and deferential words. Worry not, for I shan''t speak of your predilections to the Th��lvik. Even if she knew, Loreen would surely feel at ease knowing my daughters have thrown themselves into the harem of such a mighty and proud warrior as yourself! A marriage between the Kraktol Empire and the mighty Precursor would certainly shake the galactic community!"

    A meaningful glint appears in Lord Drall''s eyes. "And who could blame you? Their scales; are they not pristine? Soren''s intellect, Megla''s passion, and Kisa''s demure nature. My daughters have all the traits any cold-blooded male should eagerly pursue!"

    Jos�� stays silent for a few moments. He meets Drall''s gaze, then shakes his head and laughs. "Think what you like. I''ll say it again; I''ve no interest in mating with the Kraktol, the Kessu, nor any of the other sentients in this galaxy. Right now, my goals are a bit more... focused."

    Perhaps sensing the finality in Jos��''s tone, Lord Drall''s laughter dies down. He assumes a more dignified posture and clears his throat. "Harrumph! Well, ah, forgive me, Admiral Rodriguez. I meant no offense."

    Jos�� gestures into the distance, toward the double doors leading out of the Shuttle Bay. "None taken. Now, come. Walk with me."

    Drall nods respectfully. He pauses for half a breath and turns to face his ship. After pounding his fists together and nodding, his crew raises the entry ramp, sealing themselves inside to wait for Drall''s return.

    Before long, both men begin walking across the clean and pristine exosteel deckplates, with Jose''s boots and Drall''s claws clomping and clinking across the floor as they move.

    Drall glances from side to side. His gaze often falls on the many Kessu milling around, some of whom hiss at him, while others merely ignore the Kraktol visitor, having long since grown used to Megla and Soren''s presences.

    "It seems your cooperation with the Kessu has deepened considerably in the last month or so," Lord Drall muses. "From Orgon''s memories, we gathered that you had only met the Kessu on the day his fleet appeared, yet you protected them with such passionate ferocity. Now, they work for you as mechanics and technicians."

    The corner of Jos��''s mouth curls into a faint smile. It''s been quite a bit longer than a month, thanks to time dilation, but Drall doesn''t need to know that.

    Instead, he says, "The Kessu lost their memories, yet they retained their innate affinity toward technology. While I''ve had to re-educate them regarding many things they didn''t know, they picked up that information surprisingly quickly."

    "Mmm. The mystery of the erased Kessu memories..." Lord Drall mutters. "A fascinating matter, that."

    "Oh? Do you know something relevant?" Jos�� asks.

    The two men step through the double doors leading out of the Shuttle Bay. They arrive inside a wide open corridor, one in which a few dozen Kessu meander about, heading to one task or another. It doesn''t escape Jos��''s notice that while Lord Drall keeps his distance from the Kessu, a slight look of disgust also appears on his face.

    "Not exactly," Lord Drall mutters. "Truth be told, when that matter with the Kessu happened, the Kraktol were still slaves under their thumb. It was only because of the Kessu''s ostracism from Mallali society that we managed to escape their control. By the time Lady Loreen came to power and set out to conquer Dragua for ourselves, the Kessu had already begun to fade into obscurity. We were far too busy building our society from the ground up to pursue our vengeance, and so, the mystery of the Kessu mind-wipes escaped our attention for far too long."

    "But you did uncover some information?" Jos�� asks, his tone rhetorical.

    "You could say that," Drall answers cryptically. "However, the matter is not as cut and dry as you might expect."

    Lord Drall and Jos�� pace down the corridors toward a destination only Jos�� knows. Drall flicks his eyes toward Jos��, then returns to looking forward, avoiding eye contact with the Terran.

    "The Kessu were, and possibly still are, a species hellbent on achieving political power and knowledge," Drall explains. "That alone isn''t significant. All sentients, to some extent, wish for their species to rise to power and dominate the competition. Such is the natural order of life. What made the Kessu unique were their cutthroat tactics and distinct lack of any moral guidelines. All sentients have a saying, ''as two-faced as a Kessu,'' which refers to their propensity for lies and deceit. Perhaps you''ve heard it before?"

    "I haven''t," Jos�� answers. "In fact, every Kessu I''ve met has been kind and gentle toward me. I''ve yet to meet a single liar, a single greedy bastard, and a single backstabber. They''ve been as honest as I could ever expect."

    "Hmph..." Drall snorts, clearly displeased by Jos��''s assessment. "You live amongst them, so they''ll surely show their true colors, given time. Especially since you''ve given the little furballs free roam of the place. Who knows how many backdoors they''ve installed in your systems? Who knows how many ''alterations'' they''ve slipped into your command protocols? Watch yourself, Terran. One of these days, you might find yourself a stranger in your own ship."

    Jos�� falls silent. He reflects on Drall''s words, then begins replaying the past several days worth of events back in his head.

    I can''t remember any of my interactions with the Kessu prior to my rebirth. All I can rely on are the memory files given to me by Umi. Who''s the say the Kessu couldn''t have edited those files to influence my memories? It''s a long shot, but it never hurts to take precautions...

    He smiles. "Even if your fears end up not coming to pass, I must thank you for the timely warning, Lord Drall."

    "Graugh! We warriors must stick together! There is nothing a fine and upright male should fear more than the conniving skullduggery of closed-door politics and back-room dealings. Keep your wits about you, Admiral, and you shall fare well in this era."

    "Haha..." Jos�� chuckles wryly. "I''m afraid I don''t plan to stick around long enough to make many friends."

    "Oh? Are you planning a long journey?" Drall asks.

    "...Something like that."

    Jos��''s gaze turns vacant for a moment as his thoughts wander.

    Evelyn. Nick. I''ll join you soon enough. Once I sort out what happened to humanity, I won''t leave you waiting.

    ...

    The two men eventually arrive at another pair of double-doors. They open up to reveal a wide, empty room, one lacking any furnishings, along with any decorations whatsoever.

    Drall pauses outside the door. His pleasant expression dulls somewhat, as a hint of suspicion enters his eyes. "Hmm? What is this place? Why have you brought me here?"

    "This is the Bloodbearer''s holodeck," Jos�� answers. "It may look like a prison, but I assure you, it isn''t."

    "A holodeck?" Drall repeats. "I have heard of them, but I''ve never seen one before. Only the Core Worlders possess a few, and us Rodaks would never be allowed to touch them."

    "Well, then this will be quite an interesting experience for you." Jos�� says.

    The Admiral launches into a brief but informative ten minute explanation of the holodeck, giving essentially the same description of its functions as he gave to Megla and Soren.

    When Jos�� concludes, Lord Drall merely nods. "I see. What wondrous Precursor- err, Terran technology, indeed. To think the Mallali would possess such incredible relics, yet only hoard them for themselves."

    "Mmm." Jose grunts. "Let''s take a seat."

    Jos�� waves his hand. Like magic, a fifteen-foot-long table materializes on the floor, along with a chair at each end.

    Drall blinks in surprise. "How... how did you summon...?"

    "Cerebral implants," Jos�� answers, as he eases into the nearest chair. "I can communicate with this ship telepathically."

    "Ah."

    Lord Drall walks toward the opposite end of the table and sits down, marveling at how the chair contours to his bottom, even going so far as to open a hole in the back for his tail.

    "Terran Implants. Believe it or not, the Mallali have spent countless millennia researching various Precursor remnant technologies. We Rodaks have long known about implants, but their finer use and utility has evaded the galactic population at large. I''ve heard rumors that several top Mallali officials have begun installing basic, rudimentary implants stealthily into their bodies, but we''ve no way to corroborate such hearsay."

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    "I see," Jos�� says, nodding slowly. "The Mallali aren''t my concern. Not right now, anyway. Let''s cut the chit-chat, Lord Drall. We are by ourselves, now. Nobody shall bother us. What is it that you couldn''t say in front of your crew? What do you know about the Buzor lurking beneath Tarus II''s surface?"

    Drall''s casual calmness fades away. In its place, a look of calculating cynicism appears.

    "You are a wise sentient, are you not, Terran?" Drall asks. "You know that, often, the information a leader tells his people will be at odds with reality. Sometimes, to maintain morale, or to keep our people productive, we must feed them minor lies here and there. Small ''untruths''; minute deceptions which serve the greater good."

    "Many a great leader has lied whilst claiming it was to serve the greater good," Jos�� comments blandly. "But perhaps that, in and of itself, is also a lie."

    "Haha. Good, very good..." Drall says, his words coming more slowly and carefully. "I believe I am not wrong in my assessment of you. You are a cunning being, someone who has fought in more wars than any Rodak, perhaps even the Th��lvik herself. You have already determined that we did not attack the Kessu on Tarus II merely to fulfill some long-dead, ancient, petty revenge."

    Jos�� smiles. "Not true. Doubtless, you wished to exterminate the Kessu anyway, but it was some other secret you uncovered which led to your ultimate decision to attack the planet. Killing your ancient enemies was, in effect... a minor convenience."

    "Graugh! True, yes. You understand my words better than I can speak them," Drall chuckles. "It was only a few decades ago when the Th��lvik encountered some... disturbing news. Thanks to an informant among the Buzor, we learned that they had quietly established multiple planetary bases around the Outer Rim. In total, the Buzor now control, in secret, more than three thousand planets encircling the galaxy''s outer edges, giving them a positional advantage in the event of a galactic war."

    "Am I supposed to be surprised?" Jos�� asks. "I would imagine such a strategy to be an intelligent, perhaps even expected, military tactic. Encircling your enemy is a long-known element of Terran warfare."

    "Aye," Drall answers. "You are correct. Under normal circumstances, such would be the case. However, what was most alarming was Loreen''s realization that the Buzor had achieved their encirclement strategy in complete silence. They had pulled it off within a frighteningly short period, perhaps only a few thousand star-cycles. The Buzor informant would not tell us exactly what had led to their swift expansion, but he gave us a hint."

    Drall pauses for half a beat.

    "The Buzor... they obtained some hitherto unknown, ancient Terran device. What it is, we have yet to discover. We do know there are many of these devices in use now, and the Buzor have used them to place down several strategic military embattlements across the Milky Way. Most importantly, the first one came from right here on Tarus II. If we could slay the Kessu and delve into the mountain, we might be able to catch the Buzor by surprise, take control of the originator device, and use its power to further our own ends."

    "Galactic domination..." Jos�� mutters. "Boring, but logical. I find your claims laughable, considering Tarus II was, in my era, an empty planet. We Terrans placed our prisoners there and kept all technology strictly out of the inmates'' hands. If you had told me this device was found on one of the Core worlds, perhaps one of the former galactic superpowers'' Dominion worlds, I might believe you. But Tarus II? It was nothing but a prison planet. Your informant was likely wrong."

    "Graugh... under normal circumstances, you might be correct, Admiral Rodriguez," Drall says, leaning his elbows on the table. "But perhaps you did not notice one detail I mentioned. The Kessu abandoned their role as the leaders of the Mallali some two thousand years ago. At that same time, they wiped their memories and took up residence on Tarus II. Simultaneously, the Buzor appeared here and began their expansion campaign. If we assume such a device existed here on Tarus II, then we might be forgiven for concluding the Kessu assisted the Buzor in using it. After all, you may not know this, but the Buzor are technologically illiterate. They have no starships to speak of. They are not well-versed in the ways of Precursor artifacts."

    Jos�� sits up a little straighter.

    "You believe the Kessu assisted the Buzor? You think they used their technological supremacy to somehow activate this device for the Buzor? Why not take control of it for themselves, if they were the backstabbers and rogues you claimed them to be?"

    Drall presses his claws together. He shakes his head and sighs. "Graugh... I do not know. The events which transpired 2,000 years ago... I was alive at the time, but I was not a main player, nor even a pawn in the galaxy''s political machine. We Kraktol were too busy fighting for our freedom to pay attention to the backdoor dealings of those wretched Mallali."

    The Kraktol leader continues. "If I had to hazard a guess... I would say that the Kessu left the Mallali core worlds deliberately and joined forces with the Buzor. Combining their intellect with the Buzor''s unrivaled ground warfare supremacy, they would become an unstoppable force. However, they could not make this transition obvious. Therefore, the Kessu lied and said they would step down from galactic politics and return to a simpler, more primitive lifestyle. This news shocked the Mallali community, but so many Mallali hated the Kessu that they simply accepted it as truth, especially when all of the Kessu spread across the Milky Way returned to Tarus II and never left it again."

    "That makes sense..." Jos�� mutters, a frown playing on his face. "Perhaps the ''device'' the Buzor found was not actually native or found on Tarus II, but brought there by the Kessu. Perhaps the Kessu obtained it in secret some time before and worked out a deal with the Buzor. If they were as power-hungry as you claim, then such an action makes perfect sense."

    This time, Jos�� pauses for half a beat. His frown deepens as he rubs his chin.

    "However... something doesn''t add up. The mind-wipes... why bother? Perhaps there are still some Kessu who''ve retained their memories in secret. The real players; the powerhouses of their people. They erased the memories of the ''peons,'' while keeping their own minds intact."

    Drall nods. "Indeed. We''ve considered that possibility. It makes sense, given the Kessu''s knowledge of Precursor artifacts. Additionally, when we attacked Tarus II, that strange stealth-craft emerged from seemingly nowhere. This implies to me, as well as Loreen, that the Kessu are not as weak and defenseless as they first seem. If an external threat appears, I have no doubt they will reveal their hidden weapons and blast that threat out of the sky. Orgon''s betrayal ��his complete disregard for attacking Tarus II�� may have inadvertently spared the Kraktol from suffering a terrible calamity."

    Jos�� leans back in his chair. The Terran falls silent as he ponders Drall''s words.

    "...I don''t have a horse in this race," Jos�� says, enunciating carefully. "So, in all seriousness, I couldn''t give half a damn whether the Kraktol, Kessu, Mallali, or Buzor take over the galaxy. None of you mean one iota to me."

    "All I care about," Jos�� continues, "is eliminating the demonic presence on Tarus II. Perhaps, of all the things we''ve discussed, the demons are the outlier that baffles me the most."

    Drall cocks his head. "There it is again; that word. What is a ''demon,'' Admiral? I have no concept of the term."

    "That''s why I brought you to the holodeck," Jos�� says. He rises from his chair and takes a few steps to the side, while indicating for Drall to remain seated. "Umi."

    "Yes, Admiral. I will create the holograms as per your mental specifications," Umi beeps from above.

    Drall watches silently as billions of light particles rapidly congeal together, forming half a dozen red-skinned figures of different sizes. Only one of them towers above Jos��, while the rest stand at his height or below it.

    "These... these creatures are demons?" Drall asks. "They resemble you, but with blood-red skin, and those horns sticking out of their skulls."

    Jos�� nods. "They do share some similarities with Terrans, but make no mistake, demons are far fiercer, more vicious, and more guileless than any Terran I''ve met. They once preyed upon the bodies of Terrans, defiled our women, and enslaved our men. In my eyes, they are heretical beings whose existences must be purged at all costs."

    Drall appears unconvinced. "Is that not the natural desire of all beings? Conquering other species is the right of the victor. Those who lose wars are weak, while those who win are strong. What makes the demons so ''heretical'' in your eyes?"

    "That question is not an easy one to answer," Jos�� replies, his expression bland. "Humans spent many ages trying to reconcile with the demons, as well as our other enemies. However, because the demons preyed upon us, we had no choice but to fight with all our might and exterminate them. We did not do so because of our innate desire to slaughter them all, but because if we did not go to such extreme lengths, then, given time, the demons would."

    Jos�� begins pacing back and forth in front of the six lined-up holograms. He pauses at the first one, a somewhat short male with a neatly trimmed beard and goatee, a cocky swagger in his posture, and a fat beer belly.

    "This one here was the First Emperor of demonkind," Jos�� explains. "His name was Satan. He may not look like much, but Satan was essentially an unkillable demigod. His body could regenerate from death, no matter how many times we slaughtered him. If we trapped him, he would tap into one of his seemingly infinite number of abilities to break free of his containment. He grew stronger the more Terrans he killed, and thus, was an ever-evolving threat that required the united might of humanity to defeat."

    The Admiral gestures toward the second demon, a skeleton hovering off the ground, more than a head smaller than Satan, seemingly frail and weak. The hovering skeleton clutches a pair of ethereal knives in its grasp, each one capable of slicing through steel with ease.

    "Mephisto, the Emperor of Legions," Jos�� explains. "A Necromancer capable of bringing the dead back to life. Satan devoured Terrans to empower himself, but Mephisto kept their minds and bodies intact, turning them against their loved ones. In terms of psychological warfare, no demons were nearly as adept as him in the ways of scarring our soldiers'' minds. He could turn his body ethereal, allowing him to bypass all of our defenses. Killing him meant losing tens of millions of minds to psychosis and shellshock."

    Jos�� continues walking, gesturing to the other four as he talks.

    "Belial, the Emperor of Passion. A seductress with frightening strength, she could wipe out legions of soldiers with her fists, while also restoring the bodies of her allies before they died. An adept changeling, she could infiltrate humanity''s ranks and turn our own soldiers against us by weaponizing their lust."

    "Bael, the Emperor of Intellect. A super-genius with strength in equal quantities. Immune to almost every type of damage we could inflict, the only thing more frightening was how he could seemingly peer into the future thanks to his bottomless brainpower."

    "Fenrir, the Emperor of the Night. A Vampiress who drank blood to empower herself, as well as her thralls. She possessed powers similar to Satan himself, making her an enemy who grew in strength over time. Had we not overlooked her existence, we might not have paid such a frightful price to eliminate her heresy from the galaxy."

    "Gorn, the Emperor of Many Faces. An archfiend who could assume the form of others, gaining their abilities and powers tenfold. His versatility in the ways of war were only overshadowed by his Bael-like intellect, allowing him to puppeteer other demons from the shadows. Killing him was a nearly-impossible task, but finding him was even harder."

    After speaking the name of these six demons, Jos�� falls silent for a moment.

    He looks at Drall meaningfully. "Every one of these six was a frightening adversary. Alone, they could rip apart worlds and civilizations. Together, they nearly brought the galaxy to its knees. It took thousands, if not millions of soldiers to kill each one. And they were not the only terrifying existences. I didn''t even mention Diablo, Lucifer, Valac, Auger, or Kristoff, let alone all the other Emperors, Dukes, Barons, and Lords."

    Drall clenches his claws into fists. "You... you said before that you found demons on Tarus II. By that, did you mean...?"

    "Aye. Not just any demon, but a living Demon Emperor, the highest existence a demon could reach. Yama, the Emperor of Shadows. His power, though lacking, is still more than enough to kill me by myself. To tell the truth, I''ve been agonizing over how I''m going to kill him. I cannot allow him to live, for as I''ve seen, his power has not dwindled over time. Demons, unlike Terrans, the Mallali, the Kraktol, or any other sentient... demons cannot die of old age. They are immortal; undying. If I do not kill him, he will continue to increase his power and expand his forces."

    Jos�� spends a few minutes explaining to Drall how Yama''s powers work. He details Yama''s method of ''converting'' men and women into Shades and Shadow-walkers, as well as his many other powers involving darkness.

    After Jos��''s explanation wraps up, Drall rubs the underside of his jaw thoughtfully. "This Yama fellow... he seems quite frightening. But, compared to the other Demon Emperors, he does not seem invincible. His weakness to light, for example, seems quite exploitable."

    "Yes." Jos�� answers. "If I had to choose between facing Yama or any of the other demons I mentioned before, I would choose him one hundred out of one hundred times. If our opponent were Satan, Belial, Mephisto, or heaven forbid, Bael, I wouldn''t even bother. Those Emperors would be far too much for me to defeat on my own. Against Bael in particular, even igniting Tarus II''s star in a supernova would not be enough to kill him. Trust me; humanity tried."

    Jos�� waves his hand, causing the holograms to disappear. He strolls over to the table and takes a seat, sighing heavily.

    "Drall. Can I speak my mind?"

    "Graugh! Naturally!" Drall answers, his spirits rising noticeably. "We are males! We speak the honest truth, and nothing but the truth!"

    "Excellent. Then, here''s the deal. You came at the perfect time. Aboard your vessel, there are many Kraktol warriors. I, alone, am not a match for Yama. I cannot slay him by myself. Similarly, his strengths come in the form of deception and evasion, so he lacks the power needed to kill me, provided I enter his lair prepared. This puts us at a stalemate."

    Drall''s eyes flash with insight.

    "You... you wish to make use of my soldiers?"

    "I do." Jos�� answers flatly.

    Lord Drall tilts his head upward, a mischievous grin on his face.

    "Graugh! Bahaha! You, Terran, are a most interesting person! You take my information and you take my men, abusing the pure goodness of my heart! How shameless, how utterly shameless!"

    After pausing, Drall continues.

    "But what can I say? I would not dare to deny you this request. The Th��lvik herself told me to grant you any concession. So, tell me, Terran... would this not count as a tacit alliance with the Kraktol Empire?!"

    Jos�� laughs. "Haha. You''re a simple man, Lord Drall. Fine. If you wish to consider me an ally, then I won''t deny you that request. However, do not expect me to fight your wars. If you want to learn the Buzor''s secrets, then assisting me in killing Yama and his Shades will bring you closer to that revelation. You can find the answers you seek, while I can slay the heretic lurking under the mountain. This cooperation is a win-win for both of us."

    The Terran''s smile fades. "However, make no mistake. After this operation, our agreement will come to an end. I will not ally with you or anyone else for the foreseeable future, as I have no interest in the petty galactic squabbles taking place in this era. I have only one desire, and only I can pursue it. You will be of no help to me in seeing it through."

    Drall hesitates. "...Can you tell me what you seek?"

    "No."

    Jos�� answers with a bland expression on his face, one that masks the pain in his heart. Drall, however, being unfamiliar with Terran body language, can only hazard random guesses as to the Terran''s secrets.

    "Very well. In the end, even a temporary alliance suits my needs. You are a surprisingly conscientious being, someone willing to consider my political situation. When I return to the Th��lvik with news of fighting alongside the Terran, she will be extremely pleased with me. Perhaps she will even grant me the privilege of whelping a second child with her! Bahaha!"

    "Hah, I''m glad I could help," Jos�� laughs. He stands up, as does Drall. With a wave of his hand, Jos�� dismisses the holodeck''s projections, returning the room to its empty state.

    The two of them start to walk toward the door, but Drall pauses.

    "Regarding Yama''s extermination... given how powerful you have stated Demon Emperors to be, what are the odds all of my troops together could defeat him?"

    "On your own?" Jos�� asks. "Zero percent. You''ve no chance. But with me in command, giving you access to this ship''s formidable stockpile of weapons and armaments? I''d say it''s around... seventy percent."

    Drall''s jaw drops. A greedy look appears in his eyes, while drool pools at the edges of his mouth.

    "S-stockpiles... of armaments? Yes... yes! I had almost forgotten. Your vessel is equipped with 50th Era technology. I can hardly even imagine the... the firepower you could bring to bear!"

    Jos�� wryly shakes his head.

    "Like father, like daughter. You remind me of Megla in many ways."

    "Graugh! I will take that as a compliment!"

    Drall''s expression turns odd, and he takes a step away from the Terran.

    "...But no funny business! I won''t allow you to throw yourself upon me as you have Megla! I have eyes only for my beloved Th��lvik!"

    Jos�� rolls his eyes. "Oh, not that line again."

 Chapter 42: Kisas Struggle

    Elsewhere aboard the Bloodbearer, Kisa Kindris, daughter of the Th��lvik, meanders down the ship''s hallways, flanked by Soren Mudrose on her left, and Megla Brighteye on her right. The three Kraktol females slowly pace about, with Megla chatting excitedly and pointing out various sights along the way, Soren keeping calm and nodding along to her sister''s words, and Kisa following Megla''s explanations with visible interest.

    The three girls stop before a wide-open area amongst the corridors where the walls and ceiling appear to have been cut out and torn up, making room for a mid-sized repair facility. A single shuttle with room for fifteen passengers sits inside the room, suspended by wires and hovering via anti-gravity thrusters to keep it off the ground, while several dozen Kessu mill about, cutting and welding like crazy.

    "-and over there, that''s a new Craft Repair Bay we hacked together two weeks ago," Megla explains, pointing at the torn-up spaceship. "We had to rip out the walls and ceiling; you wouldn''t believe what a pain it was getting that shuttle over here! We had to take out all the ship''s volatile compounds, then teleport the shell into position! If we had overlooked even a drop of antimatter fuel or some random isotopes, boom! The entire ship could have blown up! No more Bloodbearer!"

    "Wow," Kisa says, clutching both of her claws against her chest. "It''s... it''s so big..."

    "I know, right? One thing you have to get used to; the Fiftieth Era shuttles on the Bloodbearer are often as big as the Third Era interceptors the Kraktol use for war. They''re faster and deadlier, too, even though they barely have any armaments. It''s crazy!"

    Kisa and Megla exchange a few questions and answers, but the more Megla talks, the more apparent it becomes that Kisa''s knowledge is surprisingly superficial.

    "A... an Inverted Space Drive?" Kisa asks. "That''s why you experienced seven months with the Precursor and not two? But... how does that work? I don''t understand at all."

    Megla scratches her head. "Err, I''m not sure, myself, half-sister. The Admiral explained different types of warp technology to us before, but it kinda went over my head, and now I''ve forgotten. Something about time dilation."

    "Kyargh! I see..."

    Kisa falls silent. She wrings her claws together, while an odd expression passes across her face.

    Soren notices. "Is something the matter, Kisa?"

    "Hm? Oh, no. It''s nothing, Soren. I, I just... I''ve had trouble sleeping, recently. I''m always so tired. I don''t have a lot of energy these days... haha..."

    Soren nods. "Acting as the Malvik and attending to your duties must be exhausting. The life of a royal is fraught with troubles, or so I imagine."

    Kisa lowers her head. "Yes. Something like that..."

    A moment of awkward silence follows. Megla coughs loudly, then points down the hall, toward a set of double doors a quarter-mile away. "Kyargh! All this boring technical talk is lame! Kisa, why don''t we go to the Mess Hall and get some food? Are you hungry?"

    Kisa nods. "Um, yes, actually. I haven''t eaten in about a day. Lately, my stomach''s been rather upset."

    "Aw, that''s unfortunate," Megla says, sympathetically. "Well, I know what will cheer you up. You''ve never tried Terran food; it''s to die for! They have all kinds of great meat-meals, like ''stayuk'' and ''feelay minion''. Once you try ''stayuk,'' you''ll have a hard time eating boring Kraktol food ever again!"

    Kisa''s scales flush with embarrassment. "Oh, um, not to be rude, Megla... but I''m a vegetarian. I don''t like eating meat."

    "What?!" Megla shrieks, her mind momentarily freezing in shock. "A vegetarian? But... but how? All Kraktol hate tree-food! It tastes awful! We have trouble digesting it!"

    "Yes, true..." Kisa mutters, "but I just can''t bring myself to eat meat. It''s kind of cruel, you know? Someone has to die in order for me to live. I don''t like that... not one bit."

    Soren''s tail swishes back and forth. "Oh? Then you don''t like the taste of vegetables, but ethically, you''d rather eat bad-tasting food than propagate the deaths of other beings?"

    Kisa raises her head and nods. "Y-yes! I know, it''s weird, right? Mother tries to force me to eat meat, but I always tell her I''d rather starve. She gives up for a while, then tries again later. She tells me about all the... the enemy corpses she ate when she became the Th��lvik. Mother says it isn''t honorable for the Malvik to ignore perfectly good meat when it''s put before her. All I can do is close my mouth stubbornly and wait her out, but I always get so scared when she..."

    Abruptly, Kisa falls silent. She stammers for a moment before shaking her head. "...It''s nothing. Never mind. Um, does the food-place have vegetable food?"

    Soren nods. "Yes. The Admiral sometimes eats vegetables, though he''s the only crew-member who does. Last time I asked, he mentioned something about how ''Terrans need a balanced and healthy diet'' and how all the members of his species were omnivores. He''s an oddball, sometimes."

    Kisa shrugs. "If the Admiral likes to eat vegetables... I bet we could become friends. I''ve never met anyone who liked eating anything other than meat. It''s been a bit... isolating."

    "Mmm." Megla grunts.

    The three Kraktol women stroll down the hallway. They chat idly as they walk over to the Mess Hall. When the doors open, Kisa pauses for a moment to stare in surprise. Inside, two hundred bench-tables sit in aisles and rows, with at least three hundred Kessu mingling together in groups of four to six, babbling to one another about this or that. Several curious, wide-eyed gazes flick over in Kisa''s direction. Some of the gazes turn hostile, while others contain only curiosity or apathy.

    "Before your arrival, Umi announced to all the crew-members your identity, as well as Lord Drall''s," Soren explains. "Don''t worry, though. The Kessu are quite harmless. I''m sure you''ve heard many terrible things about them in your lifetime, but from what I''ve experienced, they haven''t treated me or Megla badly."

    Kisa nods. "I see. We have a few Kessu slaves on Dragua, as you know... but they always look so sad. Mother won''t let me speak to them, s-so I''ve never interacted with their species at all."

    A pained look appears in Kisa''s eyes, but she simply lowers her head and tries to laugh it off. "Haha... there I go again with that down-in-the-dumps talk. Um, where do we get food?"

    Megla gestures toward a dozen food synthesizers attached to the far walls. Before them, three dozen Kessu line up with bowls and plates held at the ready, waiting for their turn to choose a meal.

    "Over there. Just grab a bowl or a plate, depending on what you want to eat. What sorts of vegetables do you prefer?"

    "I''ll eat anything," Kisa says bashfully. "Grass, leaves, you name it. Dragua doesn''t have much available, as you know. I found some tasty fruit growing on a tree once... but then Mother ordered someone to cut it down and burn it..."

    Soren gazes at Kisa out of the corner of her eye, but says nothing.

    Megla, however, shakes her head angrily. "Grass? Leaves? Kyargh! That won''t do! I''m surprised you can even walk after eating such terrible garbage! Here, take a plate and a bowl, and I''ll show you all the menu options."

    She slaps a plate and bowl in Kisa''s hands, then grabs two plates for herself. Soren doesn''t grab anything, due to having eaten only a few hours before, but she still follows along to keep Kisa and Megla company.

    The two of them arrive at the back of the line. Up ahead, a fat, pot-bellied Kessu boy meows and trills loudly as he ponders his choices.

    "Mraaw! So many choices! Machine person! Do you have any Podongo-meat?"

    Umi speaks from above. "Negative, crew-member ''Skippy.'' That ingredient does not appear in my databases."

    "Praaw! What about Giant Beatley?"

    "Negative, crew-member Skippy. That ingredient does not appear in my databases."

    Behind Skippy, his friend, Rags, hisses in annoyance. "Come on, Skip! What''s taking so long? Just pick something!"

    "Hmph!" Skippy grunts. "A refined and elegant palate such as mine can only subsist on the finest culinary delights! Machine person! Show me your tastiest meats!"

    The screen before him instantly changes, showing a wide variety of preview pictures, while Umi explains his choices. "According to the data I''ve gathered from the Kessu crew-members, I can display the top twenty food choices in order from most to least popular. As you can see, ranked at number one, the ''Chopped Liver'' option appears with twenty one point seven percent of all Kessu crew having eaten it on three or more occasions. At number two, the ''Fatty Chicken'' option ranks similarly, but with a higher percentage of Kessu crew-members returning for five or more meals, despite fewer trying it even once. At number three on the list..."

    Umi reads out ten more options, while Skippy merely nods along and broods silently. Several Kessu behind him meow and hiss in exasperation, but he ignores their complaints.

    "Come on, move it along!" An older female Kessu meows. "Just pick something! My feet are killing me! I''ve been scrubbing deckplates for six hours, you little brat!"

    "What''s the holdup?" Another male Kessu growls. "I don''t have all day, tubby! Move that tail!"

    Finally, after ten full minutes of hemming and hawing, Skippy makes his choice. He ends up taking four plates of Chopped Liver in his arms, all while the other Kessu scowl at him angrily. "Good grief! You even eat like a lard-ball! All that, just to pick the liver! Your parents didn''t raise you right, boy!"

    Skippy pauses. Before walking away, he turns to the last Kessu who spoke.

    "...My parents died when the Kraktol attacked."

    The others fall silent. They lower their heads guiltily, perhaps feeling ashamed for speaking so thoughtlessly.

    Without another word, Skippy waddles away, his ears flat, and his posture stiff.

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    "...Stupid," The older female Kessu mutters. "I shouldn''t have said that. Now I feel like a jerk."

    "Poor kid," another Kessu adds. "Maybe that''s why he eats so much. Guess I can''t blame him."

    ...

    The line continues moving, much faster than before. Kisa listens to the Kessu''s conversations and sighs.

    "...The, erm... the Kraktol attack..."

    Megla stares ahead stonily. "Yes. He lost his parents because of us."

    "No. Because of Mother..." Kisa mutters. "She ordered the attack. You just did what you were told."

    "Does that make it any better?" Megla asks. "I didn''t protest. I didn''t object. Now that kitten doesn''t have a mother or a father. If you stand by and do nothing, you''re part of the problem. That''s what the Admiral taught me."

    Kisa sighs. "I see."

    All three of the Kraktol fall silent. The next few minutes pass quickly as they saunter up to the menu screen. Megla activates it, then begins swiping through a list of meats and vegetables.

    "So, as you can see here, half-sister, you can choose from a bunch of pre-made meals, or you can create and customize a personal dish. Just pick some ingredients, follow the directions, and the ship will ''poof'' a meal into existence for you."

    Kisa follows along with Megla''s directions, while Soren occasionally offers helpful suggestions. Not one of the three women knows anything about vegetables, making them laugh several times as they examine the strange and wondrous Terran cuisine options.

    "Car-rot? Bro-ko-lie? Haha, these vegetables have such funny names! And look, there are fruits, too, like app-lee and orr-aang. Which of these looks best to you?"

    Kisa hesitates. "...A-all of them look good. I''ve never... I''ve never seen so many tasty things that weren''t made of meat..."

    Slightly taken aback, Megla glances at Soren, then back to Kisa. "Kyargh! Then why choose? Just try them all! The Admiral says that as long as we stay above a planet with biomatter, our food reserves will remain full! Eat whatever you like!"

    Drops of drool congeal at the edges of Kisa''s long, crocodilian mouth. "Really? It''s okay if I do?"

    "Of course! You are our guest, half-sister! Eat as much as you want!"

    Kisa sets down the plate and bowl, then hastily taps several options for the juiciest, ripest fruits and vegetables among the preview images. "O-okay, then! I''ll try this one, and this one... and um, maybe this one too!"

    Within seconds, multiple beams of light zap into the bowl and atop the plate, materializing as apples, oranges, lettuce, and other sorts of vegetarian-friendly food options. Kisa takes her food, clearly excited by what she''s about to eat. "Um, where can I sit? There are Kessu at all of the tables..."

    Megla points toward a mostly empty bench some distance away, one where the older Kessu lady from earlier has taken a seat by herself, nibbling on a small plate of fish. "Just sit over there. Soren and I will join you in a moment, once I get my food."

    "Okay!"

    Kisa walks over to the table and hesitates as she glances at the tiny little grandmother Kessu plunked on the table''s opposite side. She pauses awkwardly and clears her throat. "Erm, kyargh! I, I, uh... I would like to sit here! Is that... alright?"

    The Kessu lady frowns. "Kss. Sit wherever you like. I don''t care."

    "Um... a-alright, then."

    Kisa slides onto the bench, taking a seat at the furthest possible corner from the lady, not daring to make eye contact. Her grumpy appearance gives her an unapproachable aura, which, when mixed with Kisa''s lack of knowledge regarding the Kessu in general, makes the Malvik hesitant to say anything.

    Moments later, Kisa reaches down and plucks an apple out of the bowl. She glances behind herself, where Megla and Soren chat quietly, while Megla picks her food. After debating over whether or not it would be impolite to eat before they arrive, Kisa''s hunger wins out. She quickly places the apple in her mouth and bites down, crushing it with several hundred pounds of bite pressure.

    Immediately, sweet and delicious juices flow across her tongue. The Malvik squeaks in surprise, barely containing herself as she experiences the wonders of Terran fruits.

    "Mmm... it''s... it''s so good..." Kisa mutters.

    The Malvik quickly grabs another item out of the bowl, this time an orange. She puts in in her mouth and bites down, crushing it into a citrusy pulp. Instead of the sweet, candy-like taste of the apple, a terrible and acrid taste floods her senses.

    "Ack! Kerk! Eww, that one was... that was weird..."

    Kisa gags audibly, making the Kessu woman frown harder than before. "Hiss! Do you mind? I''m trying to eat, here. You don''t hear me making all kinds of sickening noises, do you?"

    Still gagging, Kisa chokes out an apology. "I-I''m sorry. I didn''t mean to be rude... it''s just- it''s the first time I''ve eaten such tasty food... haha."

    "The first time? Hmph. Doubtful..." The Kessu says. "You think I don''t know who you are? We all do. You''re the daughter of that ''thool-pick'' person. You''re royalty."

    Kisa''s awkward smile fades, ever so slightly. "Well... I mean, yes, I am. But... I don''t really eat good food or anything there. Everyone I know eats meat, but I prefer fruits and vegetables, and-"

    "Do I look like I care?" The grandmother Kessu snaps. "I don''t want to hear your blubbering. Just shut up and eat your nasty fruit in silence."

    Kisa''s scales lose some of their color. "I''m... I''m sorry. I didn''t mean to be rude, miss..."

    The Malvik falls silent, losing much of the excitement she felt from earlier. Numbly, she reaches into the bowl and pulls out a kiwi, then gently puts it in her mouth and bites down slowly, trying not to make any noise whatsoever.

    Despite the fruit''s delicious taste, she doesn''t emote or show any excitement, instead opting to eat it slowly. She barely even enjoys its unique flavor, instead replaying the Kessu''s words in her mind over and over.

    Suddenly, the grandmother Kessu snaps. "Oh, Wind-Mother guide me! What, is the food not good enough for you, your highness? You were laughing it up just a minute ago, but now you look like you''re attending a funeral! Hmph. Do you even know what a funeral is? I do! I lost my entire litter because of you! Because of your dreadful thool-pick! All of my kittens and grand-kittens burned in a fire, while my husband died trying to save them, but look at you! Just sitting here, munching on that fruit without a care in the world!"

    Her rage intensifies. "I lost my home, my litter, and everyone else I loved! My home used to have over three hundred villagers, but now there aren''t even a dozen of us! That day the fire fell from the skies, I watched helplessly while they screamed in pain and burned alive! But I couldn''t do anything. I was old and useless. Worthless, just a stupid old woman!"

    "Now look at me..." She concludes. "I scrub this ship daily, because it''s all I can do. It''s all I have. My only hope is that someday, the Admiral turns this big giant metal machine against you. I hope he burns your planet to the ground! I hope the Admiral rips your thool-pick apart and tortures him until he begs for mercy! That''s all I have to live for. That''s my only reason to go on."

    The Kessu jerks her head away, then gets up from her chair and lowers her gaze.

    "You disgust me. I hope you die a horrible death."

    Kisa, stricken silent, stares blankly as the Kessu woman hobbles away, leaning on nearby tables to support her weak and creaky knees.

    Several other nearby Kessu turn to look in Kisa''s direction, their feline ears having heard everything the woman said. They shoot dirty glares at Kisa, nodding along silently to the grandmother''s words. Some of them even whisper among each other, quietly brooding amongst themselves as they recall her emotion-packed speech.

    ...Kisa lowers her eyes. She vacantly gazes at the bowl of fruit before her, most of it untouched.

    Her head reels, as does her stomach. A swimming sensation takes her, as the Kessu grandmother''s words replay in her head.

    It isn''t long before images of her mother, Loreen, appear in the back of her mind as well.

    Pathetic. What sort of Kraktol can''t eat meat? You''re a disgrace.

    You''ll take my place as the Th��lvik someday, but that doesn''t mean I have to be happy about it. I''ll be damned if I let some gutless coward lead my beloved Kraktol empire.

    Go on! Kill him! Stop wasting my time! He''s only a slave!

    There, that wasn''t so hard, was it? Do you see that miserable look on his face? Seems he pissed and shit himself just before the lights went out. As expected of Mallali scum.

    Just eat it, you little brat. It''s meat! You are a Rodak! What sort of deviant doesn''t like meat? You''re embarrassing me!

    ...

    "Kisa? Are you okay?"

    Megla sits down beside Kisa, frowning as she notices the barely touched bowl of fruit. "I thought you were hungry? Weren''t you looking forward to all those icky- I mean, all those delicious fruits and vegetables?"

    Kisa nods numbly. "Fruits... vegetables..."

    Megla rests a hand on Kisa''s back. "What''s wrong? Are you sick? Did one of those fruits give you a stomachache? I warned you they might not be good for you. We Kraktol can only properly digest meat after all, haha..."

    Her voice barely a whisper, Kisa''s jaw begins to tremble.

    "This... this was a mistake. I don''t belong here. I shouldn''t have come..."

    Soren appears at Kisa''s side. She looks at Kisa with the eyes of someone who realizes something has gone horribly wrong. "Kisa? We''re here for you, okay? What''s the matter? Do you want to go somewhere... private?"

    The red-scaled Kraktol flicks her eyes around the cafeteria. She instantly picks up on dozens of hostile gazes aimed in Kisa''s direction, though many of the perpetrators sheepishly avert their eyes when they see Soren scanning the room.

    Kisa''s entire body trembles. "I... I shouldn''t... I don''t belong here... hic... it''s not right... I''m bad, very bad..."

    Without warning, Kisa jumps up from her seat. Her sudden movement startles Megla and Soren, making them both flinch and pull back a half-step. In the instant they pull away, Kisa climbs out of the table and rushes toward the exit door.

    "H-hey, wait!" Megla shouts, completely confused by Kisa''s sudden flurry of emotion. "Wha-what''s wrong? What''s going on?"

    Before Megla and Soren can follow Kisa, she''s already fled through the Mess Hall''s double doors, leaving them in her dust.

    The entire cafeteria goes silent. Even the Kessu at the far end of the room who didn''t witness what happened with Kisa and the grandmother Kessu take notice now and start whispering among each other.

    Soren stops her pursuit, then immediately turns to the nearest table. "Hey! You must have seen what happened. Why did Kisa leave like that? Did one of you say something to her?"

    The table full of male Kessu doesn''t reply. They only flatten their ears and look away, too ashamed to say anything.

    "Come on! Speak!" Soren shouts, projecting her voice across the cafeteria. "One of you saw something! Don''t play stupid with me."

    Frustrated, Soren turns her attention upward, intending to ask Umi. Before she can ask the synthmind, a young male Kessu pipes up.

    "Hmph! That lady got what she deserved."

    Soren turns her attention toward the voice''s direction, only to see Skippy and Rags sitting at one of the nearby tables. The chonker-Kessu slaps his belly and laughs. "What? I''m not afraid to speak my mind! That lady is the daughter of the tool-pick! She''s the reason my mother and father are gone. She can die for all I care!"

    "Y-yeah!" Another Kessu says, feeling emboldened by Skippy''s words. "I lost my wife in that attack, and it was all because of the tool-pick''s orders. I ain''t got no sympathy for her daughter! Evil runs in the blood, that''s what my grandfather always said!"

    Soren and Megla stand together and remain silent, listening as one Kessu after another pipes up. They quickly come to realize what happened thanks to bits and pieces of information delivered by the more boisterous Kessu sitting nearby.

    Megla balls her claws into fists. "Is that what you think? You think evil runs in the blood?"

    The male Kessu from before nods emphatically. "Mraww, obviously!"

    "Idiot!" Megla shouts, pointing her finger at him. "Bajira, I thought we were friends! Don''t you know Kisa is my half-sister? If she is evil, then so am I! How could you say that about my blood relative?"

    Bajira falters. "Err, but... that''s not the same thing! You''re one of the good ones, not like the other Kraktol. You and Soren have been kind to us and treated us right. That little thool-pick daughter though, she''s different! Her father ordered the attack on our people!"

    Soren''s expression remains emotionless. "You''re wrong. Out of Kisa, Megla, and myself, Kisa holds the least blame for what happened to your relatives. I was the tactical commander aboard the Dragon''s Breath, while Megla was the second in command. We had more political control, as well as blame, for what happened to your families than Kisa ever did. You looked down on her purely because of her title. You didn''t even try to understand her situation before rushing to judgment."

    Megla shakes with rage. Still, she swallows some of her anger. "I... I know what happened to all of you was awful. I do! But... don''t you see? You hurt Kisa for reasons beyond her control, reasons she had nothing to do with, just like Soren and I did to you. Even so, you all have, for the most part, accepted my sister and I as friends. We''ve hurt you infinitely more than Kisa ever has!"

    "So, please!" Megla adds, "If you''re going to hate anyone, don''t hate Kisa. Hate me! Hate Soren! We''re the evil ones here, not Kisa. My half-sister is a kind and loving Rodak, far moreso than I could ever be. If you can''t find the empathy within yourselves to treat her as you would me... then I''d rather you all just stopped being my friends!"

    The red-scaled Kraktol violently punches her chest, beating herself in grief. Without another word, she storms out of the cafeteria, leaving Soren behind.

    Soren falls silent. She shakes her head and sighs. "You''ve all disappointed me. Anger, I can understand. But attacking someone unrelated without knowing the full situation? It''s illogical. It''s despicable. I feel the same as Megla in this regard."

    She slowly exits the Mess Hall, leaving behind all of the Kessu who, only moments before, cheerfully insulted Kisa and disparaged her thoughtlessly.

    Several Kessu, including Skippy himself, flatten their ears and look at one another guiltily.

    "...M-maybe we went too far..." Skippy mutters. "I mean... I didn''t even know that Kraktol lady at all. I guess I ought to, uh... apologize."

    Rags nods. "We were all angry, but that doesn''t excuse the way we looked at her, Skip. If we run into her later, maybe we should try to get to know her a little, eh?"

    "Yeah. Maybe."

    Skippy pokes at the liver on his plate, then sulkily shoves a piece in his mouth.

    "I just... miss my mom and dad... so much."

 Chapter 43: Monolith

    Admiral Jos�� Rodriguez walks side by side with Lord Drall, second in command of the Kraktol Empire. The Terran and crocodilian appear mismatched in height, with the human standing nearly a full head taller than his counterpart. This height imbalance, when combined with the Terran''s domineering presence and overwhelming superiority in all manner of warfare, gives him an aura of leadership, causing the Kraktol general to defer to him when they speak.

    The Terran and Kraktol step inside a vacuum lift, using it to drop down some ten or so levels to the lowest decks.

    "Where I come from," Jos�� explains, "this vessel was already at the pinnacle of Terran technology. Ramma''s Chosen had several Dreadnoughts at their disposal, some from older eras, others from the current era. Let alone my faction, there were other factions as well, such as Orion Corp and the Third Hand, who possessed dozens of similarly-sized Dreadnoughts. Even so, the Bloodbearer was especially unique; the flagship of our armada. With just this one carrier, Ramma''s Chosen could project military force into any system within a thousand lightyears of our homeworld. We feared no reprisal, because combatting the Bloodbearer directly would mark any man as a fool."

    Lord Drall gazes through the transparent vacuum tube window, watching as one deck after another swishes past his eyes. "From the research this era''s sentients have gathered, a top of the line 25th Era military vessel would often end up comparable to a civilian-grade 40th Era vessel. In that case, the Bloodbearer should prove even more advanced than its numerical era signifies."

    "Correct," Jos�� says, nodding. "Top-grade stasis chambers, a facility for regenerating missing limbs within hours, the greatest medical minds of my generation, and a hundred of Ramma''s mightiest warriors. I am a killer, a soldier bred for slaying heretics. Even so, I was only one of many. Alone, I am formidable. But when combined with the power of other Chosen, we could perform terrifying feats of destruction."

    Jos�� continues. "Defeating Yama during the age of Terran Supremacy would have been a trivial task. One Demon Emperor, alone, might be somewhat frightening, but you must remember that we defeated demonkind long before our advancements in military might. With our modern technological terrors in hand, defeating our ancient adversaries would have taken us a fraction of the time we originally spent. The problem comes in that we do not presently live in the age of Terran Supremacy, and thus, our task will prove far more difficult."

    The vacuum tube slows to a stop. Its door swishes open, allowing the two faction leaders to stride out, with Jos�� in the lead. The Admiral guides Lord Drall toward a large, wide-open facility, one with the words, "Planetary Assault" emblazoned in huge, engraved letters above the doorway.

    "You know," Jos�� says, "it kind of surprises me that there are vastly more pre-25th Era ships in the modern galaxy than post-25th Era ones. In my time, such old clunkers were outdated, generally considered dangerous, and only used by junkers, raiders, and the poorest of civilians. Many pre-25th Era warships were reworked and rebuilt into civilian cruisers, intended only for simple transport duties. They offered a small amount of protection against the Void Roamers and other undesirables. The fact your ''modern'' militaries use such outdated technology is... bizarre."

    "And," Jos�� adds, "that isn''t even taking into account how few there were. Restoring some old clunker to working order was hardly worth the time and effort when parts for newer models were typically found in greater abundance, and far cheaper. Most First, Second, and Third Era ships could only be found in museums, not flying through space. I cannot wrap my mind around any situation which may have led to modern spacecraft disappearing while ancient craft resurged."

    Lord Drall pauses outside the Planetary Assault bay. He glances at Jos�� and shrugs. "Many Mallali, Avaru, and Rodak archaeologists have sought answers to that question, and others. For countless millennia, we have known of the existence of ancient Precursor artifacts. However, in the First Age, when our species first gained the ability to travel through the void, we were careless and foolhardy. Many vessels we recovered possessed synthminds and databases filled with valuable knowledge regarding what happened to the Precursors. Sadly, our forebearers, in their infinite shortsightedness, erased those synthminds to solidify their unwavering compliance. Obtaining military might at all costs was their primary objective, while investigating the secrets of the Precursors was not even on their itinerary."

    "Unfortunate," Jos�� mutters, before stepping into the armory before him. "Those who do not study history are doomed to repeat it."

    Drall nods. "Indeed."

    He follows the Terran, allowing his eyes to roam the insides of what appears to be a small hangar, but one without any shuttles or interceptors. Instead, nine gigantic bipedal war machines stand at attention against the far wall, with a spot in their middle conspicuously absent. These machines, identical to the Titan battlesuit Soren wore while dropping to Tarus II''s surface, give Lord Drall a bad case of the chills. Seeing such intimidating mechanical armors lined up, he begins to form an idea in his head of just how much firepower the Bloodbearer truly can bring to a battlefield if it so chooses.

    Inside the chamber, a half-dozen Kessu mechanics and janitors walk around, shining the metal fittings of each machine, cleaning the dirt and dust accumulated from 100,000,000 years, or otherwise performing routine maintenance on anything that requires their attention.

    One of the mechanics, a black-haired female Kessu with a bright-pink nose, perks up when she spots Jos��. "Prraw? Great Precursor! I am glad you came to visit!"

    Her words grab the attention of the other five Kessu, all of whom turn to look at Jos�� and flash their cute kitty-smiles. "Meow! The Great Precursor!"

    Jos�� chuckles. "Mina, this is Lord Drall. He is going to work together as our ally for the foreseeable future. As the second in command of the Kraktol Empire, he possesses a lot of political and military authority. He will dedicate a large number of soldiers to crushing the demons on Tarus II, as well as preserving Kessu society. I want you to treat him with the same respect that you would me."

    The Kessu female, Mina, glances at Drall a second time. Realizing who he is, her expression turns cross for a moment, but she quickly comes to terms with her feelings. "Y-yes, Great Precursor. I will do what I can to help out. But... regarding the attack on my... my village..."

    Before Jos�� can reply, Lord Drall takes a step forward. He drops to one knee and bows his head until the underside of his jaw touches the floor. "Please accept my sincerest apologies, Miss Mina. I will personally get down on my knees and apologize to every Kessu I have offended, if that is what it takes. What my people did was wrong. We bore a grudge against the Kessu for many generations, but the Kessu who wronged us have long since faded to the rivers of time. We will help rebuild your society and ensure a great peace between our species, so long as the Kessu are willing to forgive us our trespasses."

    Lord Drall beats his chest and closes his eyes with grief, putting on a convincing performance. Jos��, of course, doesn''t fully believe his words, but Mina takes a step back, startled by Lord Drall''s self-flagellation. "T-there''s no need to bow before me, um, good sir! I lost a few friends and family, but... but that''s just the nature of war! If you can help us rebuild and offer restitution for your crimes, we will certainly forgive you! There''s no need to spoil the kitten''s milk with idle anger; that''s what my mother always says!"

    Drall nods slightly, tapping the front of his jaw against the exosteel deckplates. "Oh, such wisdom! Such grace! Your mother is truly a kind soul. Does she still walk among the living?"

    Mina nods. "Yes. She is still alive, but my father..."

    "Graugh! How terrible! In that case, I shall go to your mother after this and beg her for forgiveness! Any punishment she requests, I shall accept it! This violent attack I perpetuated, ''tis a stain upon my grand name!"

    One by one, Lord Drall profusely apologize to each of the six Kessu present, making all of them look at him with a certain degree of warmth and reverence. After he finishes, they return to their duties, quietly meowing amongst one another about how they had pegged the Kraktol leader as being far more vicious and bloodthirsty than he really was.

    As Lord Drall rises to his feet, he shoots a questioning look at Jos��. "...You are displeased with my words?"

    "Not at all," Jos�� answers with a shake of his head. "I don''t care one iota how your quarrel with the Kessu plays out. From now on, they will be under my protection, as I''ve said before. It''s in your best interest to apologize to each of them, whether you mean it in your heart or not. As long as they believe you, and you stick to your word, you''ll already have done a great deal better than some of the... politicians from my era."

    Drall flares his nostrils. "Chuff. So you had those back then, too."

    "Indeed."

    "Disgusting."

    "You said it."

    Both men share a nod between each other before moving on. Jos�� gestures toward the nearest Titan battle-armor and begins to speak.

    "The Titan Battlesuit was and still is the mightiest surface-combat device employed by Ramma''s Chosen. It could turn any average man into an elite soldier, and any elite soldier into a demigod of death and destruction. Just one Titan could clear out an entire city of hostiles. Nearly indestructible, swift as a speeder-pod, and surprisingly agile, these battlesuits will be our key to defeating Yama."

    Lord Drall walks toward the nearest Titan armor, and caresses its thick metal plating. He taps its shell with his claws, and even knocks his knuckles against several exosteel plates around its body. Not once does he hear a hollow ringing sound, indicating the metal must be highly dense.

    "Impressive, to say the least. Words fail me. With a weapon like this, you could raid a Mallali core-world by yourself and not even risk suffering an injury."

    "I said it was indestructible, but that''s only against traditional ground-based attacks," Jos�� explains. "If any average interplanetary bombardment platform were to attack from space, it could easily land a targeted strike on a Titan battlesuit and reduce it to melted hunks of metal. Naturally, we need not worry about that situation, given any ship within range of attacking these Titan battlesuits will also have to fly within the range of the Bloodbearer''s primary cannon array. I pity the fool who suffers from such a blatant death-wish."

    Jos�� continues guiding Lord Drall around the Planetary Assault armory. He leads the Kraktol commander over to a wall of various gadgets, most of them small, palm-sized devices, coming in all sorts of shapes.

    "This here," Jos�� says, picking up a small metal cube, "is a portable forcefield generator. You can use it to temporarily seal off passages and pathways. Useful for protecting your flank in a firefight, or for trapping a particularly slippery foe to prevent their escape."

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    "Like Yama?" Drall asks.

    "Exactly. And this here, this is a portable holo-entity generator. The entity can take many different forms, but as of now, it only has my bio-signature inside. It can discharge electrical bursts, either at a low enough level to incapacitate an enemy, or it can unleash enough energy to char them to ash. I''ve used these on several occasions; their versatility is what makes them formidable. I plan to add a few additional configurations for melee and anti-armor combat, but that will come later."

    Jos�� explains the purpose of more than five dozen devices. Each one elicits fewer and fewer gasps of astonishment from Lord Drall. He quickly finds himself becoming less amazed, and instead more frightened, by the unbelievable firepower Jos�� has at his disposal.

    "These weapons are truly awe-inspiring. I find it hard to believe your people, the Terrans, could ever go extinct with such incredible technology at their disposal."

    "Hmm..." Jos�� mutters, pursing his lips. "I''ve not spent much time investigating the cause of Terrankind''s extinction. As you can imagine... it''s a bit of a sore spot for me."

    Lord Drall doesn''t reply for a moment. When he does, his tone becomes somber.

    "Admiral. Truthfully, many Kessu scientists, many Mallali, Rodaks, and countless other sentients have spent an inordinate amount of time investigating what led to the extinction of the Precursors. Yet, no matter how we searched, where we looked, or what we found... in the end, we were unable to come up with a single substantial answer."

    He continues. "Graugh! I do not wish to sound like a wild conspiracy theorist. However, it is my personal belief that whatever led to the extinction of the Precursors... it was not artificial in origin, nor was it some terrible accident. If I had to guess, I might even go so far as to say it was... deliberate."

    The Admiral frowns. "Deliberate, you say? Perhaps, you believe my people''s extinction to have come at the claws of some terrible enemy?"

    Drall shrugs. "I cannot say. I am but a humble Rodak, unversed in the ways of science and archaeology. Any guesses I might hazard would likely prove wild and unsubstantiated."

    "However," Drall mutters, "certain things simply don''t add up. Every historical record indicates that the Precursors- sorry, the Terrans... every record indicates they disappeared at nearly the same time. Some worlds showed minor signs of battle-scars, but for the most part... it seemed to me as if whatever killed them merely ''erased'' them from existence. One moment, they were there, and in the next, they were gone."

    Jos�� gazes at one of the nearby Kessu, someone going about his business oiling a rusty servo motor on one of the Titan battlesuits. The Admiral''s gaze becomes distant, as he looks not at the Kessu, but through him.

    "...Monolith."

    "I beg your pardon?" Drall asks.

    The Terran mouths a few words to himself in silence before shaking his head. "No. I... I can''t see them being the cause of my species'' extinction. If that were the case..."

    Jos�� lowers his gaze. He stares at the floor for several seconds, then walks toward a nearby tool-chest and plunks his butt down, taking a heavy seat on it. The Terran wearily rubs his facial hair for a moment before looking at his Kraktol companion.

    "Lord Drall. You claim not to be a science-focused Rodak. Yet, even so, I imagine you can look toward the universe around us as a source of expanding your consciousness."

    The Kraktol leader frowns. "Graugh! I... I am afraid I do not understand, Admiral Rodriguez."

    "How many stars are there in the Milky Way?" Jos�� asks.

    "I do not know," Drall replies. "Many millions, to be sure."

    "One hundred seventy billion, four hundred and twelve million, six hundred and four thousand, one hundred and thirty-five," Jos�� murmurs, without batting an eye. "This number has certainly changed over the last hundred million years, but by the time of my era, the moment before I underwent stasis-sleep and arrived in this era, that was the exact number of stars in the Milky Way."

    "The Terrans mapped out our entire galaxy," Jos�� explains. "We explored every world, and knew within a certain level of accuracy which stars were likely to go supernova, which ones would form in the future, and so on. But, Lord Drall, the Terrans did not possess the same information regarding the Andromeda Galaxy, nor the other five galaxies we sought to colonize."

    Jos�� continues. "The Milky Way and Andromeda are merely two galaxies out of eighty within the Local Group. However, compared to the greater universe, we are merely a speck of a speck within the Creator''s eye. Our galaxy is small, out of the way, and unimportant."

    Drall nods. "Outside of the Local Group, there are untold hundreds of billions of galaxies, each with many more stars and planets than the Milky Way itself."

    "That''s right," Jos�� says, faintly smiling. "Terrankind arose upon a single, minor, ultimately tiny world within this galaxy. We fought countless battles and struggled through the eons, eventually trouncing our enemies and seizing control of the Milky Way. We ascended past the Second Type of stellar civilizations, and rose toward the Third Type, imagining ourselves unstoppable death-gods capable of flattening all who opposed us."

    "But..." Jos�� adds, "it was when we stepped outside the confines of our galaxy''s womb for the first time that we came to a terrifying realization. Much like the enemies we had crushed within the Milky Way''s confines, there were many other civilizations outside the Milky Way, each one controlling parts of, or the entirety of galaxies within the Local Cluster. We came to refer to these entities as... Monolith."

    Drall''s pupil''s shrink to slits. "What? Other civilizations? Then... that is to say...?"

    "Yes. I believe it is possible that Monolith may have crushed Terrankind. Monolith, of course, is simply a term my people used to describe interstellar civilizations outside of the Milky Way. However, not all members of Monolith are the same. They vary dramatically, with some being warlike civilizations, and others hiveminds. Some colonized for the sake of self-preservation, while others attempted to spread religious or logical dogmas."

    "What we found in Andromeda, for example, was a mostly untapped galaxy much larger than the Milky Way, ripe with opportunities for interplanetary exploration and exploitation. However, Terrans were not the only species to get that same idea, and so, we entered war with more than a dozen other members of Monolith. Battle lines were drawn, alliances were forged and broken, and a bright future for our people seemed within reach."

    "But perhaps not," Jos�� concludes. "We Terrans could not interact with other civilizations outside of the Local Group. Galaxies existed well beyond our reach, and what worried our scientists and military leaders the most was the possibility that somewhere, out there, in the galactic neighborhood... there existed a terrifying species capable of annihilating us with a wave of its hand."

    Lord Drall''s scales turn ash-grey, giving him a pallid appearance. "Graugh! You are starting to frighten me, Terran. If you are right, then whatever civilization wiped out the Terrans likely still exists. It could destroy the Rodaks, Mallali, Buzor, Avaru, and all the other sentients with ease! After all, we are far from comparable to your species'' former glory!"

    Jos�� nods. "Yes. But, at the same time, I wouldn''t wager any credits on Monolith causing Terrankind''s extinction. After all, if a species that powerful wiped us out, why wouldn''t they have colonized the entire Milky Way afterward? Why kill us due to a mere whim and then let our galaxy go to waste? That seems like a rather flippant use of intergalactic power, don''t you think?"

    Lord Drall settles down somewhat. "Y-you are right. What use would there be in eliminating all of humanity, only to ignore our galaxy afterward? If these beings were far mightier than humanity, then they would have no reason to kill you in the first place, whereas if they were at a similar power level as you, then Terrankind''s extinction would have occurred over a longer period of time."

    Slowly, Jos�� rises to his feet. He glances around the room at the Kessu, most of them far too engrossed in their work to pay attention to anything he and Drall have to say.

    "That''s not entirely true, Lord Drall. A highly advanced society might have one reason to kill us."

    Drall cocks his head. "And what reason would that be?"

    "Simply put, they may have seen us as a threat. Not at that moment, but perhaps, far in the future, we might be capable of threatening their stranglehold on the universe. Such a civilization would surely be... beyond Type III."

    The Admiral chuckles. "But... if that''s the case, then it doesn''t matter. If our enemy is Monolith, and if Monolith is truly the one who rendered us extinct, then there is nothing we can do to stop them. Our enemy is a civilization far more powerful than we can imagine, capable of wiping out a galaxy''s inhabitants instantly. Against that sort of enemy, there is no resistance your era''s sentients can put up that will change a thing. It would be best to forget about Monolith entirely and live the rest of your lives in ignorant bliss."

    Jos�� starts walking toward the Planetary Assault Bay''s exit doors. Lord Drall follows after him, casting a lingering gaze on the impressive weaponry within the room.

    "Admiral Rodriguez. Assuming this ''Monolith'' decided to eliminate the Terrans... why would they not exterminate the Rodaks, Mallali, Avaru, and all the other sentients who arose in your place afterward?"

    "I cannot say," Jos�� replies. "Such a mighty galactic superpower may not give a damn about insignificant Type I and II civilizations. Perhaps even certain Type III civilizations are of no threat to them. But my people? We were conquerors. We sought the advancement of our bodies, our minds, and our species. Given time... perhaps Monolith may have detected us, and decided to squash our ambitions."

    A strange light appears in the Admiral''s eyes.

    "Haha. Wouldn''t that be interesting? Killing all of humanity, only for one little Terran to remain? Imagine if little old me could, in some small way, avenge my fallen brethren. That would, indeed, be a delicious twist of fate."

    ...

    The Terran guides Lord Drall around to several other facilities, showing off some of the weapons, armor, and technology they will use against Emperor Yama. Eventually, he and Lord Drall take the vacuum tubes back up to the main decks.

    "This operation, it seems relatively safe," Drall mutters. "You said before that Yama does not possess enough power to pierce through your advanced technology and its afforded defenses. Therefore, the only true trouble we''ll face is whether or not we''ll be able to kill the slippery little demon, or whether he''ll escape our clutches."

    "That''s right," Jos�� affirms. "Yama''s power makes entrapping him extremely difficult. If he catches wind of our schemes, a single dark fissure leading to Tarus II''s surface will enable him to slither away. His body has no mass. He can reshape his appearance and make himself thinner than a human hair, allowing him to slip through any gap in our defenses. If we are not comprehensive in our attack, we''ll not capture him, and he''ll break free. We cannot allow a single mistake in this operation."

    "Do not worry," Drall replies. "If it is competency you desire, my soldiers are the best in the Kraktol Empire. The Kraktol serving underneath me were selected from the Th��lvik''s cousins and adjacent family. Not only are their stocks fine, but their intelligence is high, and their battle experience, refined. I''ve led many guerilla assaults on Mallali worlds, and as such, have bathed them in blood. They know nothing of fear."

    Casually, Jos�� glances at Lord Drall. "How might they compare to Megla and Soren then, in terms of combat prowess?"

    "Graugh! My daughters are, naturally, fine Kraktol specimens. Soren was never much of a frontline warrior, but Megla is among the mightiest of Kraktol veterans. You need not worry about their battle might!"

    Several memories flicker through Jos��''s mind, particularly one recent recording of Megla and Soren attempting to fight a mere Class C monster.

    The Admiral chuckles. "Haha. That will pose a... problem."

    "Pardon?"

    "...Nothing. Let''s just say, my standards are quite high. I''ll require your troops to undergo a few ''tests'' to ensure their competency."

    Lord Drall scowls for a moment, clearly offended by Jos��''s words. "Graugh! With all due respect, my soldiers are elites, each one capable of taking on five Mallali at once! I would appreciate it if you did not insult their competency in battle!"

    "We will see," Jos�� says, his tone cryptic.

    Drall quickly hides his displeasure, silently reminding himself that he must remain on good terms with the Precursor at all costs, even if it means suffering a few demeaning insults. After all, the Precursor has only had Megla at his side as an example of Kraktol battle power. Compared to a whole unit of elite Kraktol warriors fighting in tandem, the Precursor couldn''t possibly understand the true might the Kraktol Empire can bring to bear!

    "Graugh. Hehe, when you see the might of a trueblooded Kraktol battle battalion in action, you will surely change your tune, Admiral."

    Before Jos�� can reply, Drall clarifies, "Naturally, you defeated Orgon''s warriors thanks to your superior technology, so if we were to face off against you again, I''ve no doubt you would crush us. But, I believe that if that technology gap were equalized, the results would surely reverse!"

    A flash of mischievousness appears in Jos��''s eye. "Oh? If I were to grant your Kraktol warriors the same technology I possess, do you think they could win against me?"

    "Graugh! Naturally," Drall says, as the vacuum tube arrives at their destination and swishes open. "You are a walking death god as of now, but had we possessed such mighty weaponry, I believe it goes without saying we would win ten times out of ten!"

    A truly evil, vicious grin spreads across Jos��''s face. He claps Drall on the back and smiles smugly. "Hah hah hah... well said. I''ll hold you to those words. Warriors mustn''t let their lips flap loosely, you know."

    Drall''s high spirits fade, ever so slightly. He picks up on the Terran''s confident expression and frowns internally.

    Have I, perhaps, overlooked something important?

 Chapter 44: A Terrans Empathy

    Lord Drall''s razor-sharp toe-claws clink and clatter against the steel deckplates as he paces along beside his new comrade and soon-to-be battle buddy, Jos�� Rodriguez.

    The Terran and Kraktol stroll through the Bloodbearer''s main hangar bay past dozens of shuttlecraft of varying sizes. Their path angles them toward a vessel far bigger than the shuttles and interceptors nearby, one with a comfortable crew complement of nearly a thousand Kraktol, and a maximum occupancy of two thousand, five hundred. Lord Drall''s ship, the Red-Tongue, a trident-shaped vessel, towers above both men like a titanium god.

    As they approach, Lord Drall glances toward his ship and frowns. The vessel''s landing ramp sits lowered, touching the floor. "Oh? Odd. I told my crew to seal the ship and keep it closed until my return."

    "No worries," Jos�� says casually. "I''m not worried about you trying to pull anything with infiltrators or the like. Umi''s coverage of the ship''s internals is quite broad and all-encompassing. More likely, Kisa must have returned before us, along with Megla and Soren."

    "Graugh! I nearly forgot about those daughters of mine!" Lord Drall guffaws. "They aren''t my only children here, either. I have many sons and daughters alike, all of them spread across the Outer Rim. Those accursed Mallali even captured a few of them in the past, shaming my great name! Why not come aboard, and I''ll introduce you to Sapphire, the daughter I whelped with a distinguished female from the Girax system? My fifth son, Kilgore, is quite the strapping young lad. If you don''t fancy my daughters, he might be your type! Even if you don''t like him, you''ll certainly meet his tastes!"

    "Thank you," Jos�� replies, "but as I said before, I''m not interested in mating with anyone, be they Kraktol, Kessu, or some other species."

    "Graugh! Suit yourself."

    Both men walk toward the lowered ramp and begin climbing its slope at a leisurely pace. As they approach the top, several Kraktol come into view, all of them donning glimmering exosteel-and-leather armor, contrasting with their shiny, multi-colored scales.

    The moment the two leaders arrive at the top, a green-scaled male Kraktol steps forward and drops to one knee, lowering his head until the bottom of his mouth touches the floor. "Graugh! Great Precursor, it is my greatest honor to meet you again! I must apologize immediately for the actions of my commanding officer, and beg of you to forgive me for my crimes!"

    Jos�� blinks. "Uhh... and you are?"

    "I am Gorlax Stormfang, former Chief Navigator aboard the Dragon''s Breath!" The Kraktol explains. "My commander, Orgon the Unkill- err, Orgon the Betrayer... he was the one who led the assault on Tarus II, and the one whom you fought to the death! By eliminating that vile traitor, you have given my people face and allowed us to continue living without shame! I, specifically, owe you my life! Graugh!"

    "Oh, I see," Jos�� mutters. "To be honest, I don''t remember you all that well. It''s fine; water under the bridge. Let''s move on from that whole mess and work toward a brighter future."

    Gorlax raises his head a smidge. He glances nervously at Lord Drall for a moment, then at the Terran. "W-water under... under the bridge? Graugh! Forgive me for my ignorance, oh, Great Precursor! My intelligence is meager, and my mind slow! I do not understand the implications of your infinitely wise words! Would... would you be so kind as to explain your meaning in simpler terms?"

    Jos�� chuckles. "There''s no need to act so formal, Gorlax. I''m not mad about what happened. There were several misunderstandings on that day, but ultimately, Orgon''s actions harmed the Kessu, not myself. As long as the Kraktol and Kessu decide to work together peacefully and forgive each other, I will not hold any grudges. In fact, Lord Drall and I just finished chatting with each other about a big ''project'' we''ll be embarking on together. I hope you''ll all be able to support me in this endeavor."

    The Admiral sweeps his eyes around the entry bay, where three dozen other Kraktol, most of them female, stand at attention, their faces filled with a mixture of passion and fervor. Without moving their heads, they quickly look at Drall for confirmation. He nods his assent, making them gaze at the Terran with even greater excitement than before.

    Lord Drall reaches down and squeezes Gorlox''s shoulder. "Stand up, my cousin. I''ve come to bring everyone joyous news. The Precursor, our Terran friend, Jos�� Rodriguez, requires our assistance! There is a mighty monster roaming the planet beneath us, and he cannot vanquish it alone. Therefore, Admiral Rodriguez has kindly asked the Kraktol Empire for our assistance! As you can imagine, working together and solidifying an alliance with the Precursor is wonderful news indeed and will bring us many future benefits!"

    The Kraktol present all gawk in surprise upon hearing the stunning news. Jos�� continues smiling politely, but shoots a momentary frown at the back of Lord Drall''s head.

    There Drall goes again, framing this as an alliance. He''s quite adept at playing the role of a kind and caring leader, but in reality, his actions are much craftier than they first appear.

    Gorlax rises to his feet, a look of awe playing upon his face. "Great Precursor! Your generosity is boundless, and your vision infinite! To give us this honor, we will most certainly repay it!"

    "Indeed!" A nearby female Kraktol replies. "We look forward to working together with such a powerful warrior!"

    Several Kraktol, the vast majority of them female, pipe up in agreement. Jos�� listens and nods, but says nothing, allowing Drall to act out his theatrics.

    After spending a few minutes explaining the upcoming operation, Drall disperses everyone but Gorlax and one of the nearby female officers, a crocodile with shimmering blue and green scales. He turns to Jos�� while gesturing to the woman. "Graugh! This warrior goddess is my daughter I mentioned before, Admiral. Her name is Sapphire Brighteye, and she is the most beautiful of all my children! I certainly hope you and her will become excellent friends!"

    Sapphire steps forward and bows. Her shimmering blue-green scales give her the permanent appearance of having stepped out of the ocean, presenting a dazzling sight under the ship''s interior lightning. Even despite her species'' general unattractiveness to Jos��, he can''t help but admire how gorgeous her scale-coloration appears, begrudgingly giving this point up to Lord Drall.

    "Greetings, Great Precursor," Sapphire says. She raises her head, allowing Jos�� to observe a pair of yellow ''patches'' around her eyes; evidence of the scale-colors she inherited from her father. "My father has spoken about your strength many times, especially the manner with which you defeated Orgon the Betrayer. If you would give me the honor of performing a Fat��ri Sparring Match, I would be forever grateful."

    Jos�� starts to reply, only to notice a strange look in Lord Drall and Gorlax''s eyes. They both quickly lower their heads and cough. Lord Drall meekly rubs his claws together and laughs.

    "Graugh! Daughter, your boldness is truly... you must have inherited it from your mother... ahaha!"

    Jos�� sighs internally. Why do I get the impression Sapphire just invited me to some sort of mating ritual?

    Out loud, the Admiral replies, "Haha, perhaps in the future. We''ve many matters to attend to in the coming weeks. As I''m sure you know, I''m quite the busy Terran. That being said, I do appreciate the offer."

    "Mmm. I look forward to observing your prowess in battle," Sapphire says, batting her eyes demurely. "Up close... and personal."

    For a split-second, the oxygen seems to disappear from the room, leaving a brief silence lingering in the air. Sapphire gazes at Jos�� meaningfully, while he maintains his posture and doesn''t relent under her seductive gaze.

    Indeed, Kraktol females can be quite... domineering.

    After a moment or two, Jos�� turns to Lord Drall. "Regarding your daughter, Kisa, might we be able to see her? I''d like to inform Soren and Megla about my decision."

    Lord Drall ignores Jos��''s smooth evasion of his daughter''s advances, perhaps realizing she came on a bit too strong for the Terran''s liking. "Graugh! I suppose we could look for her. Sapphire, Kisa is your bunkmate for this trip. Did she return earlier, or is she still traipsing around the Bloodbearer?"

    Sapphire''s elegant presence deflates noticeably. "Kisa. Mmm. Yes, she returned. Stormed into here, crying about one thing or another. You know how she is. She locked me out of our room and demanded that I leave. I wasn''t in the mood to deal with her typical mood swings, so... you can guess the rest."

    "Graugh... that girl..." Drall mutters. "She is such a handful. Picky, weak, no backbone. Her mother spoils her rotten, yet Kisa still isn''t half the Malvik that Loreen once was."

    Jos�� listens to their conversation, then pipes up. "I''ve yet to sit down and speak to Kisa. Sapphire, did Kisa return with Soren and Megla in tow?"

    "Not immediately," Sapphire replies. "Kisa came back alone. She stood outside the Red-Tongue, sobbing and crying about... something. I didn''t pay much attention to her words. We lowered the ramp to let her in, then a few minutes later, Soren and Megla followed after, asking if Kisa had come this way. I''m sure they''re back in the dorm with her now, trying to deal with her."

    Every time Sapphire mentions Kisa, her mood noticeably worsens. Jos�� picks up on her negative feelings and decides to investigate.

    "You don''t get along with Kisa?"

    "Not especially," Sapphire answers. "Few do. Kisa is a strange girl. She''s the Th��lvik''s daughter, yet even while living in the lap of luxury, she still acts like a child. She gets emotional if she has to squash a bug, let alone punish a slave."

    Drall shrugs. "The Th��lvik has struggled to raise Kisa properly. That child has proven quite troublesome and has acted as a substantial burden, mentally, on our leader. My apologies, Admiral Rodriguez. You shouldn''t have to hear about this unpleasantness, given how it shines an unflattering light on the Kraktol."

    Jos�� waves his hand casually. "It''s no problem at all, Lord Drall. You never know what problems people can be suffering from unless you check. Have you performed any corrective brain scans to see if she has any lingering mental issues? Sometimes, all it takes is one session with a Neurological Clinician to repair a person''s cerebral deficiencies."

    Lord Drall looks at Jos�� with confusion in his eyes. "C-corrective... brain scan? Graugh! Forgive me, for I''ve not heard of such a thing before."

    "Mmm. I suppose the technology is somewhat advanced..." Jos�� concedes. "Well, Sapphire, if you''d be so kind, perhaps you could lead me to wherever Kisa, Soren, and Megla are currently staying?"

    Sapphire nods. "Of course. Follow me, and I''ll take you to the crew quarters."

    She winks at the Terran.

    "Perhaps after you''re done with the crybaby, I can show you around my quarters, hmm? Kyargh!"

    Jos�� merely rolls his eyes.

    She begins walking toward the rear of the ship, while Jos�� and Drall follow along. Gorlax stays behind, opting to return to the Bridge to perform some routine maintenance checks.

    As they walk, Jos�� casually examines the ship''s interior, using their travel time to question Sapphire and Drall about its capabilities.

    "The Red-Tongue is roughly four hundred meters wide," Sapphire explains. "Fifty meters tall, one hundred and twenty long. Currently, we have 962 crew aboard, but we typically round up to one thousand. The starboard wing is primarily an engine bay, used to store this vessel''s antimatter and Trifrancium reserves. The port-wing is where our crew and leisure facilities reside."

    Jos�� listens intently, picking up on all sorts of clues regarding the Kraktol''s culture and their heritage. He walks past a small but cozy cafeteria with only thirty or so seats, all of them made from elegant, oak-like wood.

    "This appears to be more of a luxury craft than a war-vessel," Jos�� remarks. "You haven''t even mentioned the Red-Tongue''s weapon capabilities."

    "It has none," Sapphire replies. "This is a diplomatic ship. It has durable ablative plating lining its wings, but in the event of conflict, we''ll have to rely on its superior speed and maneuverability to evade our attackers. What makes the Red-Tongue especially useful is its quick-boot warp drive. We can jump to hyperspace with only twenty seconds of calculation; more than five times faster than the other Third-Era vessels the Kraktol use."

    "That''s fairly standard for Tenth, Twentieth, and later era-vessels," Jos�� mutters, "but for a Third Era ship, it''s certainly excellent."

    "Kyargh! It is as you say, Jos��."

    The Admiral glances at Sapphire''s back, chuckling to himself about her casual use of his first name. It seems she really wants to get on more familiar terms with me.

    Eventually, the group of three arrives at one of the crew quarters within the Red-Tongue''s port-side wing. They walk past two rows of metal doors on the right and left wall, each one staggered so as to not be directly across from each other. Jos�� blinks in surprise when he spots Soren and Megla both sitting outside one of the rooms at the end of the hallway with glum looks on their faces.

    "Soren, Megla." Jos�� says. "What''s going on? Why are you two sitting out here in this cramped hallway?"

    Both of the women raise their heads simultaneously. They pull themselves to their feet, looks of weariness on their faces.

    "Admiral..." Megla mutters. "I''m sorry. We, ah... we took Kisa to the Mess Hall and planned to introduce her to the Kessu, get her acclimated to the ship... all that standard stuff. But, uh, there was an incident."

    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    "What sort?" Jos�� asks.

    "From what we''ve gathered, one of the elderly Kessu women exploded in anger at Kisa and blamed her for... well, everything."

    Soren nods. "Yes, Admiral. Megla and I weren''t present at that time. We left Kisa sitting at a table for a minute or two, and the Kessu woman berated her while our back was turned. It was my failure to notice the volatile conditions beforehand which led to this tragedy, so I believe you would be in the right to punish me for this oversight."

    Jos�� shakes his head. "There''s no need for that. Where is Kisa now? Is she in her room?"

    "Yes," Megla answers. "She locked the door and wouldn''t let us in. We''ve tried talking to her, but she won''t listen to reason. I... don''t know what to do."

    Megla raises her claws helplessly, while Soren shakes her head. Both women appear to be at a loss for how to mend the situation.

    Jos�� pauses for half a beat, then turns to Lord Drall. "Ah, not to be rude, but would you be so kind as to give me and my officers a moment alone?"

    Drall glances at Jos��, concern in his eyes. "Graugh! Naturally, but, if I may ask... for what purpose?"

    "I feel more comfortable talking to them alone about certain matters," Jos�� answers cryptically.

    "Mmm. I see. Very well, then. Come along, Sapphire! Let us give the Admiral a few minutes of privacy."

    Sapphire nods. She and her father turn to go back the way they came, but with Jos�� at the back of the line, they have to suck their bodies in to squeeze past him. Drall manages quite easily, but Sapphire ''accidentally'' brushes up against the Admiral''s chest, causing her scales to turn a deeper blue than usual.

    "Oh, um, excuse me..." Jos�� mutters.

    As Sapphire squeezes past, she bats her eyes. "Kyargh! I didn''t mind. You have... wonderful muscles."

    She and her father leave, making Jos�� shake his head wryly. By the Divine Emperor... for a human to frolic with a non-human, Ramma will most certainly roll in her grave.

    He dusts himself off, then walks over to Soren and Megla. "Alright. Tell me what happened, and start from the beginning. I want to know every detail."

    Soren nods. "Yes, Admiral."

    ...

    Five minutes later, the women finish explaining, leaving Jos�� to his thoughts.

    "Hmm, interesting. I''ve noticed a few issues with how the crew treats Kisa and how they look down on her. Considering she''s the Th��lvik''s daughter, it would be in my best interests to get to know her better. I think I have a solution to this dilemma. Soren, why don''t you come with me? Megla, you stay here and chat with your father. He''ll tell you about the agreement we came up with to defeat the Demon Emperor, Yama."

    Megla''s jaw slackens in astonishment. "M-my father... he''s going to work with you? Fight alongside you?"

    "Fight alongside us," Jos�� says, correcting her. "Don''t forget, you two are my officers now. And yes, he will. He''s convinced this upcoming mission will deepen relations with me, but I don''t plan to change my trajectory. Assuming I can kill the Demon Emperor, my plan is to leave afterward, explore the Milky Way, and search for a few key Terran installations. Perhaps, if I''m lucky, I can find out what happened to... them."

    "Them?" Soren asks.

    "...My people," Jos�� replies. "The Terrans."

    She nods. "I see."

    After exchanging a few more words, Jos�� and Soren disappear, leaving Megla behind to chat with her father. The Kraktol leader quietly explains what transpired between himself and the Precursor to not only Megla, but Sapphire as well. Having already heard some of it from Jos�� earlier, Sapphire still obtains several additional details from her father, allowing her to form a more complete picture of the Terran''s combat capabilities.

    "Incredible..." Sapphire whispers dreamily. "The Terran''s physical strength is extraordinary, and his advanced technology is so masculine. Couldn''t he conquer any planet in the Milky Way if he so wished?"

    Drall nods. "Indeed. Of that, I have no doubt. Graugh! Megla, you made a wise choice in pledging yourself to the Precursor. You have brought great honor to your family, and if you so choose, you may serve as a direct ambassador to the Th��lvik once we sort out the details of this alliance with Admiral Rodriguez. Loreen is certain to look upon you favorably, given your contributions to the Kraktol Empire."

    Megla nods along vacantly to her father''s praise. "I see. Thank you, but... I don''t plan to leave the Admiral''s side."

    "I would never ask you to do that," Drall says, waving his claws quickly. "No, I want you to stay beside the Admiral, earn his trust, and remind him of why the Kraktol would make such good allies. You wouldn''t want him to align himself with those accursed Mallali, would you? Shielding the weak and pathetic Kessu is one thing, but what if he were to form an alliance with the Dakkit, or the Varot? Surely, you understand the harm he could bring upon your friends and family if he were to turn his weapons toward us."

    Megla shifts her feet uncomfortably. "I... I don''t know, father. I certainly wouldn''t want the Admiral to attack the Kraktol, given they are my species, but... what you''re asking of me is a bit... underclawed, don''t you think?"

    "Graugh! Of course not, of course not!" Drall says, as he wraps his arm around his daughter''s shoulder and grins. "I am not ordering you to turn the Admiral to our side at any cost! Instead, think of it as... persuading him not to join the wrong side of the war. Really, would you rather he join the Dakkit? Do you wish to see this sad and weak father of yours perish, screaming and begging for mercy? What of your half-sister, Kisa? If the Admiral were to join the Dakkit, then I fear her life would end with torture and fire."

    Megla averts her eyes from Lord Drall''s. She squirms and fidgets, clearly feeling uncomfortable under the weight of his arm. "I... I don''t know. Maybe."

    "Graugh!" Drall grunts, pulling away from her. "I only want what''s best for you! Think carefully, my precious daughter. The Terran is wise, but so are you. I believe you will make the correct choice when it appears before you."

    "Yes..."

    Megla falls silent, as does Lord Drall. Both of them close their mouths and don''t say a word for several minutes, with Lord Drall''s seemingly meek disposition fading away, giving him the cunning figure of a true leader, large and in-charge.

    Eventually, Drall flicks his eyes toward the end of the corridor. After sniffing the air, he lowers his posture, ever so slightly. "Soren has returned, along with the Admiral. I smell her scent."

    Moments later, Jose and Soren round the corner, with each one carrying two baskets full of fruits and vegetables. Drall glances at the fruit in surprise, then chuckles to himself. "Are those for Kisa?"

    "Mmm, yes," Jos�� replies. "I''ll do this next part alone. Soren, leave your baskets outside the door. I''ll try talking to Kisa alone."

    Lord Drall hesitates. "Alone? Erm, but Kisa is a bit of a fidgety child. I... worry she might say something that would offend you. Her manners are poor, and her speech, uncouth."

    "Don''t worry," Jos�� says, smiling. "I''m not offended easily. I think I can handle a child. I''m actually quite good with kids, as it just so happens."

    Sapphire groans. "Kisa is hardly a child; she''s three hundred years old. She simply acts like a spawnling most of the time, always hiding away from others and keeping to herself."

    "I''ll be the judge of that," Jos�� replies.

    Without another word, Jos�� and Soren trudge past Megla, Drall, and Sapphire toward the end of the crew quarters. One of the doors opens along the way, and a startled female Kraktol pauses momentarily to let the Terran pass before gazing at his back curiously. While Jos�� and Soren continue toward Kisa''s room, the Kraktol they passed wanders over to Sapphire, questioning her about the strange furless biped.

    The group watches silently as Jos�� knocks on Kisa''s door, mutters something they can''t quite make out with their poor reptilian hearing, and eventually, the door slides open, allowing Jos�� inside.

    Soren stays outside, only stepping in to deliver her ''care package'' before retreating. She walks back down the hallway toward Megla and the others, then stops before them and nods. "First phase, complete. The Admiral explained his plan to me; it seems he has a method to help break Kisa out of her shell."

    "He does?" Drall asks. "Graugh! That girl won''t open up to anyone. She is too meek and timid. Her mother has tried to toughen her up for ages! What method is he planning to use?"

    Soren shakes her head. "He didn''t say, but knowing the Admiral, I am certain it will prove effective."

    "Graugh! We will see..." Drall mutters.

    .......................................

    Jos�� steps into Kisa''s room, a small, cramped chamber with a bunkbed against the far wall, a small table and two backless chairs for dining or other leisure activities, and a dresser for clothes and armor.

    Kisa Kindris, the black-and-yellow scaled daughter of Loreen Kindris and Drall Brighteye, sits on the edge of her bunkbed, staring up at the Terran nervously. In her mind''s eye, she replays the events of his brutal defeat of Orgon the Betrayer.

    "G-greetings," Kisa says, wiping tears from her eyes. "I, I am Kira- I mean, Kisa K-Kindris, the ah, the err... the Malvik..."

    Jos�� closes the door and sets the four baskets of food on Kisa''s table. "It''s nice to meet you, Kisa. I am Jos�� Rodriguez, Admiral of the Bloodbearer. Of course, you already know that, but I feel as if this is the first time we''ve really gotten to sit down and speak to one another like equals."

    Kisa nods. "Y-yes..."

    After a moment of silence, Jos�� pulls out one of the chairs from the table and takes a seat, his huge body appearing slightly comical compared to the comparatively tiny wooden stool.

    "There''s no need to be nervous. I''m not angry or anything. Actually, I''m a bit concerned. I hear the Kessu treated you rather harshly, so I wanted to come here and apologize for their behavior."

    With the Admiral no longer towering over her, Kisa manages to cut back on some of her stuttering. "Yes. But I... sniff... I can''t blame them. Everything that old grandmother said... it was all true."

    Kisa lowers her head to stare at the floor. Big crocodile tears roll down her face, making her paw at her eyes. "Sniff... I just... I feel so helpless... like it was all my fault those poor Kessu died... it was all my fault that poor grandmother lost her kittens..."

    "No, it wasn''t your fault," Jos�� says, leaning back in his chair. He casually crosses his arms and sighs. "You''re not the oppressor here; you''re the victim. If anyone is to blame for what happened to the Kessu, it''s your mother. But... I actually didn''t come here to talk about the Kessu at all. I wanted to learn more about you, Kisa."

    Kisa freezes. She lifts her head slightly to glance at Jos��, then quickly lowers it again. "M-me? I''m nobody important. Just a stupid, worthless Malvik. I can''t do anything right... hic... can''t make anyone proud..."

    "Nonsense," Jos�� says, chuckling quietly. "Haha. Is that what they''ve told you? Your mother and her confidantes, I mean. In my opinion, you''re the most interesting Kraktol I''ve met up to this point."

    Kisa clutches her claws against her chest. "No, I''m not interesting at all."

    "Ah, but on the contrary," Jos�� replies. "Most Kraktol are all about honor, killing, fighting, all that samey-stuff. I think it''s kind of neat that you''re more of a ''hippie.'' That makes you rather unique, especially given your position as the Malvik."

    Kisa sniffles again, while also glancing at Jos�� out of the corner of her eye. "...Y-you... do you really mean that?"

    Jos�� nods. "I do."

    After a momentary pause, he turns to the four baskets of food beside him. "By the way, I was feeling a bit hungry. I hope you don''t mind. I brought along a little food for myself, but if you''d like, you can have some. I wouldn''t want to be rude, after all."

    Kisa averts her eyes. "N-no, that''s okay. I''m... I''m not hungry. I, um... I already ate."

    "Is that so?" Jos�� asks, letting the last syllable trail off. He pauses for a moment before plucking an apple out of the basket. After biting into it, he groans loudly. "Mmm. Oh, mmm. Wow, this is good stuff. Tastes sweet and tangy..."

    Kisa fidgets, rubbing her claws together several times. "Ah, erm... you mentioned me being a, uh... a ''hippie.'' What does that word mean, Mister Precursor, sir?"

    Jose takes several loud bites out of the apple before replying, all while loudly groaning about how good it tastes. After shaking his head, he turns to Kisa. "Mmm, in my culture, there were many non-violent Terrans who preferred to avoid war at all costs. We called them ''hippies,'' though where the word comes from, I haven''t a clue. Some ancient descriptor from the Origination Era, I imagine."

    Kisa nods. She starts to speak, only for her stomach to loudly grumble, making her freeze where she sits. She quickly wraps her arms around her gut and turns away.

    "Oh?" Jos�� says, widening his eyes. "What was that sound? I could be wrong, but it seems as if your ship has a Roaring Skoodoodle on board. Invisible critters; they like to hang around under beds and grumble when they''re annoyed."

    Kisa chuckles, only to catch herself and turn ashen. "Ah, n-no... it was... it was just my stomach."

    "Your stomach? Well, if you''re hungry..."

    Jos�� reaches into the basket and pulls out an orange.

    "How about eating something? This here is a Kerfuffle-Merfluffle. It''s pretty tangy, but I like them a lot."

    The Malvik chuckles again, in spite of herself. "Hehe... that''s, um... isn''t that called an Orr-aang-ee?"

    "Hm, you''re right," Jos�� says, nodding seriously. "Silly me. I get my words all mixed up, sometimes. I''m surprised you know what this Terran fruit is called. You must be well-versed in Terran cuisine."

    "No... not especially." Kisa says, shaking her head. "It''s just one of the things I picked out from the menu earlier..."

    "Megla tells me you like fruits and vegetables," Jos�� says, smiling kindly. "It''s only you and me here. I won''t judge you for liking the same food as me, silly girl. Here, why don''t you take this orange? I know you''re hungry. You can eat as much as you want."

    Jos�� tosses the orange to Kisa, catching her offguard. Her arms move automatically, snatching the fruit out of the air. She pauses for a moment, staring awkwardly at the fruit while stealing glances at the Terran.

    "I... I''m not supposed to eat fruit, though..." Kisa mutters. "I don''t deserve it."

    "Start by peeling the skin," Jos�� says, ignoring her protests. "If you eat the orange as-is, it will taste bitter and gross. The skin isn''t considered edible, at least not by Terrans. Use your claws to peel that top layer off. Once you get to the juicy part, the orange will practically taste like candy."

    The young girl hesitates, but Jos��''s authoritative tone all but forces her to follow his instructions. Eventually, she relents, gently peeling the top layer off the orange with surprising precision. Her seemingly clumsy crocodile claws move dexterously, allowing her to perform the feat more easily than a Terran''s nails ever could.

    Eventually, Kisa finishes. She pauses for half a beat before gently placing the fruit in her mouth and biting down, being extra careful not to act overly emotional about it. The delicious juices, far improved over her first encounter with an orange, slide down her throat and tickle her tongue, making her shudder with pleasure. Still, she maintains an emotionless facade.

    After Kisa finishes, she glances at the Terran, only to recoil in shock. On Jos��''s face, a look of disgust and rage lingers.

    "Hmph. I guess you didn''t enjoy it all that much..." Jos�� mutters. "You look like I just fed you a rock. Don''t you know that oranges are Terrankind''s greatest delicacy? By not smiling or groaning with pleasure, you''ve just insulted me!"

    Kisa''s eyes widen. "G-greatest delicacy? Oh no! I... I''m sorry! I really liked it! The orange was delicious! I just... I didn''t want to over-react. P-people don''t like it when I... when I over-react..."

    Jos�� snorts. "Hmph. I don''t know if I believe you. Look at how I eat this apple. Do I not look as if I''m enjoying myself? What use is there in consuming delicious food if you can''t show your appreciation?"

    He tosses a banana to Kisa. "Here, this is called a Long-Yellow-Tube. Peel it apart with your claws by pulling apart that top stem. Just like the orange, if you don''t take off the skin first, it will taste awful."

    Kisa catches the fruit and laughs in spite of herself. "Haha! Isn''t this called a bah-nay-nay? I''ll make sure you see how much I enjoy it this time."

    The Admiral smiles. "Good! I don''t want to see any more tears from you, little missy. I like to smile and laugh while I eat food. Life is so much better when you''re having a good time, wouldn''t you agree?"

    Kisa nods. She starts peeling apart the banana, a much more animated expression on her face compared to earlier. "Y-yes! I agree!"

    Within minutes, the Admiral dramatically cheers up Kisa, allowing her to come out of her shell more and more. Before long, she starts looking him in the eye and nodding along to his words, lapping up his wisdom like a thirsty child drinking straight from the tap.

    The Malvik smushes an apple into pulp in her mouth, grinning and moaning as she swallows the fruit. "Mmm! Wow, it tastes so good, Admiral! Terran food is very delicious!"

    "I should introduce you to rice and curry in the future," Jos�� says, smiling jovially. "You know, I''ve been cooped up on this ship with a bunch of meat-eaters. These poor, lost souls cannot begin to imagine all the delicacies they''ve missed out on for their whole lives. Since you prefer eating non-meat foods, I could teach you a few easy-to-make recipes. I like meat as much as the next Terran, but in my opinion, you have to mix up your diet, or even the tastiest food will start tasting stale. Don''t you agree?"

    Kisa nods harder than ever. "Oh, yes! But... I don''t think I could ever get tired of Terran food. It''s so much better than what I usually eat! So much better..."

    The girl''s smile fades away as a wistful look appears in her eyes.

    "After I leave here, I''ll have to go back to eating what I always did..." Kisa mutters. "Grass. Leaves. I always got sick and became ill... I felt so miserable. This... this is the happiest moment of my entire life."

    The young Kraktol lowers her claws. She stares distantly at the banana in her grasp, a look of listlessness replacing her earlier elation.

    Jos�� silently places the fruit he''s holding back into the basket. After sighing deeply, he looks at Kisa.

    "Is something wrong, Kisa? You can tell me. I won''t hurt you, and I won''t judge you. If you have any problems, just let me know, and I''ll try to help."

    The Malvik hesitates. "W-well... I don''t know. It''s probably nothing you can help with, Mister Terran, sir."

    "Don''t be so certain," Jos�� says, smiling. He stands up, walks over to Kisa''s bed, and sits down beside her. "If your problem involves your mother, I''ll listen. I won''t tell anyone what you say. Promise."

    "Um..." Kisa grunts, shifting away from him, ever so slightly. "It''s just... I don''t know if I can say..."

    "You can," He assures her, placing his hand on her back. "Please tell me. I want to know more about you."

    Kisa''s scales flush with color. "W-well... okay. It is about my mother. She''s... she''s always so hard on me, and I don''t know what to do. I always feel so trapped and helpless..."

    Jos�� smiles. "You''re doing great. Just let it all out."

 Chapter 45: The Next Step

    "Graugh! I bet you have missed the taste of authentic Kraktol cuisine while you''ve been away!"

    Lord Drall sits at a small, rectangular table with his two daughters, Megla and Sapphire, as well as his half-daughter, Soren. Soren and Megla sit on one side, while Drall and Sapphire sit on the other. The small family throws several slimy, eel-like fish into their mouths and swallows them whole, laughing and joking as they devour the food, while a few other groups of Kraktol eat their food with noticeably less gusto, mostly from having eaten the same things for several weeks during their trip to Tarus II.

    Megla''s tongue slides between the cracks in her teeth, picking up a bit of meat that wedged itself between a pair of molars.

    "Kyargh! You might not believe me, father, but the Admiral''s ship can create food worth going to war over! Of course, there''s something special about home-cooking I can''t ever forget!"

    While her sister wolfs down the slimy eels, Soren eats much more slowly and deliberately. "We would have eaten in the Bloodbearer''s cafeteria, but Kisa''s incident made us leave early. I suppose Salted Molwar is a fine alternative."

    "You do not sound particularly enthusiastic," Drall says, as he slides another Molwar down his throat. "Graugh! Have you forgotten about your homeworld''s delicacies?"

    Soren sighs. She folds her claws in her lap, leaving the rest of her plate only half-eaten. "I''m sorry, Lord Drall. I''m simply not that hungry."

    "You may call me ''father,''" Drall says. The Kraktol leader pauses his voracious eating to look his half-daughter in the eye. "I know you are an orphan. Still, you grew up in the same nest as Megla. I may not have sired you, but I cannot in good conscience leave you without a family."

    Soren lowers her head. "You are too gracious... father."

    "Graugh! See? Does that not sound better? Such a pleasant word, it rolls right off the tongue!"

    Lord Drall resumes gorging, while Sapphire mimics Soren and pushes her plate away half-eaten. "Half-sister Soren, have you and the Admiral performed the Fat��ri?"

    "Cough, cough!" Megla gags, nearly choking on her food. "S-Sapphire! Must you speak of such matters at the dinner table?"

    Drall chuckles. "Come now, daughter. Sapphire is a blunt and bold girl, like her mother. I find it to be her most endearing quality. You always know where you stand with her."

    The blue and green-scaled Kraktol bats her eyes. "Well, Soren? Did you? Or maybe Megla? Perhaps both of you, at the same time?!"

    "We did not," Soren answers, her expression even. "The Admiral has no reproductive interest in any species beyond his own."

    "To lose out on his genes would be such a shame," Sapphire mutters, while looking away from the table, toward the galley''s entrance. "The Kraktol are not like other sentients. We know that bodily power comes from the strong breeding with the strong. I want my future mate to defeat me in combat, one day. Father keeps introducing me to subpar males, one after the other, but all of them are weaker than me. Unsuitable."

    "Your standards are too high!" Drall laughs. "The B?rkon''s third great-grandson; how did he not satisfy your needs? In appearance, physique, and temperament... he was every bit your match!"

    "Being my ''match'' is not good enough," Sapphire harrumphs. She tilts her head up proudly, exposing her soft, leathery neck. "My partner must be capable of overpowering me... holding me down, making me roar with frustration. I will not accept a stalemate. If he cannot dominate me, our spawn will be weaker than the sum of our parts."

    Megla resumes eating, somewhat slower than before. "Kyargh! You are right, yes. A mighty partner will lead to mightier hatchlings. But there are only so many top-tier partners available, while Kraktol males tend to be weaker than us females. I think you may end up dying alone."

    "Not if I perform the Fat��ri with your Admiral," Sapphire answers, her tone firm. "That is why I asked if you hadn''t done so already. If you haven''t, then his seed will fertilize my eggs flawlessly. I cannot let this chance slip through my claws! Admiral Rodriguez took down Orgon the Betrayer, one of our best warriors; our strongest males. If my beloved Jos�� does not meet my qualifications, nobody will!"

    Soren crosses her arms. "Your attempts will bear no fruit, half-sister. The Admiral... he will never accept your advances."

    "How do you know?" Sapphire counters. "Have you tried pursuing him?"

    "...I haven''t." Soren answers.

    "Well, there, see?" Sapphire laughs. "You won''t know unless you try. The Admiral is broken and alone. His species is dead, and he has nowhere to call home. He requires a companion. Naturally, with some convincing, I will fill that role, while he will fill my-"

    "Please, not another word," Megla says, gagging once again. "You''re making it impossible for me to enjoy this delicious Molwar! Speaking of which... are you going to finish yours?"

    Soren and Sapphire both push their plates toward Megla in unison. "Have at it."

    "Kyargh! It''s my lucky day!" Megla laughs.

    ...

    Half an hour passes. The four Kraktol continue chatting about a great many things, mostly banal observations, musings on life and the galaxy, and occasionally some juicy gossip.

    "Sister, have you met Kilgore?" Sapphire asks Megla. "He is our one-seventh Algaru-brother."

    "Kilgore?" Megla asks, after burping from the multiple plates of food she''s finished. "I don''t know him."

    "He is one of Father''s favorite children," Sapphire explains, a pouty expression playing upon her face. "Even more so than me."

    Drall bares a toothy grin. "Ah, finally, a discussion not involving female pursuits. Aye, Kilgore joined us on our journey. I worried your Admiral might blow our ship out of the air, and thus, bring about the death of one of the remnant Algaru... but luckily, cooler heads prevailed."

    Soren cocks her head. "Speaking of which, what happened to the Algaru? I know the Mallali exterminated them during the Retribution War, but I don''t know how. Could you elaborate?"

    "I''d like to know, too," Megla chimes in. "I''ve heard rumors; we all have. But you fought on the frontlines during that era. Surely, you must know more than the asteroid miner-slaves."

    Lord Drall continues to smile, but only for a moment. His expression dims noticeably, and eventually, the smile disappears.

    "Brutal days, those were."

    Drall lowers his head.

    "The Algaru. They were our cousins. An adjacent species of sorts. We bred with them on occasion, and they, with us. We suffered in slave mines, the same as them. Though smaller than the Kraktol, the Algaru were fierce and brave. Self-sacrificing. Better than us, in many ways."

    After pausing for a moment, Drall slowly reaches toward the sleeve on his right arm. He pulls it back, revealing the brand-mark of a Kraktol symbol, one symbolizing a star and moon.

    "My blood-brother, Hataru. He was an Algaru. I saved him from a Kessu slavemaster''s wrath, killed our master, and hid the body. He swore a blood-debt to me for saving his life. He paid it back ten times over, rescuing me from too many life-and-death situations for me to count. Even so, he always told me it wasn''t enough. We branded ourselves with this mark, swearing to protect one another''s families until we died."

    The table''s mood turns somber as Drall''s daughters listen to his war-story. Sapphire, seated beside her father, reaches over and gently touches the brand.

    "What does it mean?" Sapphire asks.

    "The star represents the burning fury of the Algaru; their fiery hearts," Drall explains. "The moon represents the calm and placid nature of the Kraktol. Though we were not as fiery as the Algaru, that did not mean we were not cold-blooded killers capable of terrifying deeds. I performed many heinous, unforgivable acts during that era, yet Hataru never judged me. He knew what our victory or defeat meant."

    Drall sighs. "The reason our cousins perished... it was a deliberate act of self-conflagration. Their reproductive speed was slower than ours. They struggled to repopulate, and thus, began to dwindle in number, while the Kraktol soared."

    "That is why," Drall continues, "In a final brave, but suicidal act, the Algaru navy worked together to turn all of their ships into battering rams. They flew into one of the Mallali core worlds at sublight speeds, killing billions of our accursed enemies. It was the ultimate act of defiance. It signified their resolve; their commitment to never again walk as slaves. They would rather perish in a final blaze of glory than give up and surrender to their enemies."

    Megla''s eyes turn misty. She wipes away her tears and sniffles. "That... that must have been a hard day for you, father."

    "It was," Drall acknowledges. "I lost my blood-brother; my best friend. In truth, the only person I''ve ever loved more than the Th��lvik herself. Every night, before I lay my head down to rest, I turn toward the nearest star and pray for Hataru''s soul. I pray that he found his way to the Forbidden Swamp."

    "He did," Megla says, nodding. "Definitely."

    "Mmm."

    Drall falls silent.

    Half a minute passes before he speaks again.

    "Not all of the Algaru perished in that rain of fire. The adults left their spawn to us, their cousins. We raised those who remained as best as we could. But with only a few hundred left, their blood thinned over the generations. The purebloods died out, leaving halfbreeds, quarterbloods, and now, the distant descendants of our great cousins."

    Drall spreads out his claws helplessly. "I did what I could, but my best wasn''t good enough. Every day, I struggle, knowing I let Hataru down. I couldn''t maintain his family line. All of his descendants have watered-down their blood. They have interbred with the Kraktol so many times that barely anything remains of their proud genes. What a humiliating end for such a brave... a brave..."

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    The Kraktol commander balls his claws together and strikes the table.

    Bang.

    "Some glorious leader I am."

    Sapphire rests her hand on Drall''s arm.

    "Do not worry, father. Someday, we will punish the Mallali. We will repay them a hundredfold for the evils they''ve committed. The Kraktol Empire will unite the Rodaks, overturn the Mallali''s rule, and reign supreme."

    Megla and Soren glance at one another for a moment, then lower their heads.

    "Father..." Soren mutters. "Regarding the Admiral."

    Drall raises his head.

    "Yes?"

    "I cannot betray him," Soren says, looking Drall in the eye. "The Admiral is precious to me. I value him in a way I haven''t anyone else before, not even Megla. I can''t explain my feelings. You may see him as a tool; a weapon to empower the Kraktol Empire, but if you treat him as such, you will walk away disappointed. He is powerful, yet fragile. Unyielding, yet flexible. Cold and calculating, yet compassionate."

    "Yes," Megla says, agreeing with Soren. "Our Admiral is not a weapon with which you may club the Mallali to death. Once you get to know him, I think you''ll understand why we''ve chosen to follow him to the ends of the galaxy."

    Drall gazes at his daughters stonily. "I have a war to win. Your friend, the Terran, might be the key to finally burying the Mallali once and for all. I will do anything to acquire his trust."

    "And that is fine by me," Soren says, "so long as that is all you pursue. If you become his friend and he chooses to help you, I won''t interfere. If, however, you steal from him, hurt him, or backstab him, I will become the Kraktol Empire''s greatest enemy."

    Megla glances at Soren for a split-second before nodding along to her words. "And the same is true for me."

    "Haha..." Drall chuckles. "To inspire such confidence in his subordinates, I''ve no doubt the Terran is an ally worth cherishing. I''ve known countless charismatic Rodaks, many of whom I considered great leaders. None of their followers displayed half your zeal. I look forward to finding out what methods the Terran will use to turn me into one of his fanatic supporters."

    A quiet moment fills the air. Megla and Soren exchange a long, meaningful stare with their father, Lord Drall.

    Sapphire breaks the silence which a bemused snort. "Pfft! I guess the Admiral really did perform the Fat��ri with both of you!"

    "Kyargh!" Megla laughs. "Your mind is a slimy sewer, sister!"

    Drall slaps Sapphire''s back. "Just like your mother''s."

    .......................................

    Three hours after the Admiral first entered Kisa''s room, he finally emerges. Kisa follows behind him as he steps into the corridor, her head lowered shyly.

    "There''s no need to fear your father or your mother as long as I''m around," Jos�� says, after not seeing the other four Kraktol aren''t in the crew quarters section anymore. "Just stay close to me."

    "Y-yes..." Kisa replies, her scales flushing with color. "Great Precursor, Admiral Rodriguez, sir, can''t I stay here on the Bloodbearer with you, Megla, and Soren?"

    "I''m fine with that," Jos�� answers. He starts walking down the narrow corridor with Kisa behind him. "But you are the Malvik, which seems to me like a position on par with a Kraktol princess; the next heir to the throne. If your father doesn''t give his consent, I won''t allow you to stay. You have duties to fulfill for your empire."

    "B-but, you didn''t need his permission for Megla and Soren to stay!" Kisa protests.

    "Yes, but they aren''t the Malvik," Jos�� chuckles. "Different story, different circumstances."

    "...Oh."

    Jos�� finds Soren''s location via a ping from Umi. He navigates the Red-Tongue''s inner hallways like a pro, bypassing several Kraktol along the way. Each crew-member quickly retreats and clears a path for the Terran, saluting respectfully by putting their fists over their chests. He replies with a quick nod to each one, noticing how few of them pay even the slightest attention to Kisa.

    "You''re not very popular around here..." Jos�� mutters, after passing the eighth crew-member. "That must be hard on you."

    Kisa sighs. "Not really. I''m used to it."

    After a few minutes, the two of them arrive at the galley, where they find Megla and Drall both lazily leaning back in their seats, having stuffed their faces full, while Soren and Sapphire sit upright with more dignified postures.

    As if possessing a third sense attuned to the Admiral''s presence, Sapphire instantly swivels her head forty-five degrees to her right, toward the galley''s entry door. She spots Jos�� the moment he rounds the corner and jumps to her feet. "Jos��! Oh, darling, you have returned! Are you hungry?"

    Jos�� stifles his urge to facepalm at her coy familiarity. "Did you just call me darling? Never mind. I already had a bite to eat with Kisa."

    He steps into the cafeteria, allowing Kisa to make her presence known, behind him. When she rounds the corner, Sapphire''s excited expression deflates visibly. The blue-and-green-scaled Kraktol slithers over to Jos��''s side and wraps herself around the Admiral''s left arm.

    "Oh, Kisa. I see that my darling Jos�� finally talked you out of your stupor."

    Kisa meekly lowers her head. "S-sorry. I didn''t mean to be a burden to anyone."

    Drall rises from his chair, followed immediately afterward by Soren and Megla. "Graugh! All that matters is that you have finally come to your senses, my child. In any case... Admiral! Now that you''ve settled the matter with my daughter, I hope you''ll explain to me what you intend to do next. My crew are all at your disposal!"

    Soren walks over to Jos��''s side with a neutral expression. Megla follows her, but shoots a dirty look at Sapphire''s clingy posture, who merely bats her eyes in return.

    Unfazed by the seductress pressing herself against his arm, Jos�� ignores Sapphire''s advances. "Lord Drall. We will not be able to attack the Demon Emperor on Tarus II today, tomorrow, or even for the next month. I recommend that first, you send a transmission back to your Th��lvik telling her what you plan to do. After that, I''d like you to assemble all of your officers and take them to the Bloodbearer''s holodeck. I''ll run a performance evaluation on each one to assess their strengths and weaknesses, then decide on roles for them in the upcoming mission."

    Drall nods. "Graugh! This Demon Emperor, Yama, what if he catches wind of our plans? Is he able to flee the planet?"

    "Probably not," Jos�� replies. "Demons were, for the most part, incapable of using technology. They possessed no spaceships, and always had to rely on non-demons to travel between worlds. Of course, with the Buzor on Tarus II, anything is possible. The Kessu still had a 14th Era stealth craft within their grasp, so it''s possible there may be other spacecraft we can''t detect lurking within Yama''s grasp. Either way, don''t worry that taking too much time will allow Yama to flee. Now that I know a Demon Emperor exists, there''s no place in the universe he''ll be able to hide from me. I''ll hunt him until the day I die, if that''s what it takes."

    Sapphire squeezes Jos��''s arm. "Kyargh! Jos��, I look forward to fighting the demon right by your side! We will make a most excellent team!"

    The Admiral smiles. He stares at Sapphire for a few seconds, then clears his throat. "Excuse me."

    After a slightly awkward pause, Sapphire reluctantly releases his arm and pulls away, still maintaining a pleasant expression all the while. "You''re so bashful, darling!"

    Jos�� cracks his neck. "I wouldn''t describe myself in such a way, Miss Sapphire. Soren, Megla, I want you two to stay here. After your father rounds up all of his officers, please guide them to the holodeck, then ping me. I''ll join up with you later."

    Soren cocks her head. "Admiral? Where are you going?"

    "I didn''t expect to have a thousand soldiers available for taking down Yama," Jos�� explains. "It changes my first strike capabilities significantly. I''m going to strategize with Umi, then meet up with you once I''ve decided on a plan of action."

    "I see. That makes sense," Soren replies. "Megla and I will do as you command."

    "Mmm. Good, I''ll see you all in a couple of hours, then."

    Jos�� turns to leave the room, only to nearly bump into Kisa, behind him. He pauses, realizing he almost forgot she existed.

    Kisa practically becomes invisible once others start talking, the Admiral thinks.

    After a momentary pause, he squeezes Kisa''s shoulder. "You didn''t get a proper tour around the Bloodbearer earlier. Why don''t you come with me, and I''ll show you my ship?"

    Kisa nods quickly, but keeps her head bowed. "Y-yes, Great Precursor, Admiral Rodriguez, sir..."

    He and Kisa exit the room, leaving the other four behind. After a few seconds, Sapphire gasps with realization.

    "Kyargh! I was too slow!"

    "Too slow?" Megla asks, baffled. "What do you mean?"

    Sapphire slaps the top of her head, then beats her chest in grief. "That Kisa! She stole my darling from me! She was all alone with him in that cramped, narrow room of ours! I bet she melted into his arms while they performed the Fat��ri, and then he took her as his mate! Drat! If only I had been a little bit quicker!"

    Soren, Megla, and Lord Drall all simultaneously roll their eyes.

    "Yes, sister..." Megla groans. "I''m sure that''s exactly what happened."

    .......................................

    Kisa shyly follows behind Jos�� as he departs the Red-Tongue. They pass several other Kraktol along the way, but few of them pay Kisa any mind. All of their staring and adoration goes directly to Jos��, the slayer of Orgon the Betrayer. Given his reputation as one of the mightiest Kraktol, Orgon''s loss at Jos��''s hands gives the Terran a proportional boost to his infamy among the Kraktol.

    Once Kisa and the Terran exit the ship, they pause at the bottom of the ramp, while Jos�� glances around, reading several holographic imprints that appear inside his retinal scanners.

    "Umi, show me a list of the Bloodbearer''s weapon reserves. Sort them in order of likely lethality against the Buzor we encountered, as well as any monsters or demons we confirmed were living alongside Yama."

    "Orders received, Admiral," Umi beeps from overhead. She transmits a series of images to his brain, making them pop up inside his retinal scanners. "Assuming a battalion count of nine hundred and fifty soldiers, these weapons are the most likely to deal extreme damage to the enemy types we observed. Please note that the Bloodbearer only has ten Titan battlesuits in its storage, and three of them are inoperable. You will need to personally assist the Kessu in their repairs, given the intricacies involved in their logistical operations. Alternatively, Crew-members Lele or Soren Mudrose would be capable of completing the repairs unassisted."

    Jos�� blinks in surprise. "Lele? The kitten?"

    "Affirmative. Crew-member Lele has the second highest intelligence rating among all of the Kessu and Kraktol onboard, excluding the newcomers from Lord Drall Brighteye''s vessel. Her analytical and repairing capabilities are extraordinary, especially given her biological age."

    Having only recently recovered his memories, the Admiral has already forgotten about Lele''s surprising amount of brainpower. But, being less attached to her original image, he accepts Umi''s explanation with ease.

    "Alright. I''ll take her down there and explain what she needs to do," Jos�� replies.

    The Admiral turns to Kisa. "Uh... is there anything you''re good at or passionate about? Any skills or hobbies?"

    Kisa''s scales flush with color. "I, um... I received the best education on Dragua, since I will someday take over as the Th��lvik. I suppose I''m good with a lot of things, Great Precursor, Admiral Rodriguez, sir."

    "You can just call me ''Admiral,''" Jos�� says. "Alright. I''ll take you to the medbay and perform an evaluation. Hm. I should probably do that for all of Drall''s crew."

    While the Admiral ponders over his next move, Umi beeps again. "Admiral Rodriguez. I have received a Priority Green message from the Slipstream. Synthmind 4131 wishes to speak to you. Will you accept?"

    Jos�� shrugs. "Yeah, sure?"

    Having all but forgotten about the Slipstream and other such tangential things after his rebirth, Jos�� doesn''t give much thought to the synthmind''s request. He only finds it odd a random synthmind would attempt to contact him.

    A male synthmind voice speaks from Umi''s speaker system above. "Greetings, Admiral Rodriguez. I wish to inform you that as of [ONE] hour and [SEVENTEEN] minutes ago, I successfully finished assimilating [THREE HUNDRED] petabytes of scientific data. I scanned every ship in the Bloodbearer''s hangar and proceeded to spend the last [SIX] months, [SEVENTEEN] days, [FOURTEEN] hours, and [SEVEN] minutes adapting their configurations to my learning network. As such, I have obtained [SEVEN] advanced transformations, [FORTY-ONE] intermediate transformations, and [ONE HUNDRED, SIXTY-THREE] low-level transformations. With assistance from Synthmind Umi''s superior processing matrices, I have successfully upgraded my internal and external components to the [FIFTIETH] era."

    Jos�� stares blankly ahead for several seconds.

    "Upgraded... transformations... wait, are you- is your vessel a self-learning-type exocraft?"

    "Affirmative, Admiral Rodriguez," Synthmind 4131 beeps in acknowledgement. "I am capable of adapting other vessel designs to my hull and upgrading my capabilities over time. Were I to study [FIFTIETH] Era technology on my own, I would have required several millennia to properly adapt them to my Biosteel Plating. However, Synthmind Umi was invaluable in providing me design mechanics to study and mold to my neural pathways. I believe you will find that my capabilities as a warship, a science vessel, and a mining exocraft vastly supersede any others currently inside the Bloodbearer''s hangar bay."

    "By the Divine Emperor..." Jos�� mutters, while stroking his chin. "That does, indeed, greatly interest me. Come along, Kisa. Let''s go take a look at the Slipstream and see what it can do."

    The Malvik nods. "Kyargh! Y-yes, Great Precursor, Admiral Rodriguez, sir!"

    "It''s just ''Admiral Rodriguez,'' Kisa."

    "...Yes."

    The Admiral chuckles inwardly at Kisa''s shy nature, then begins walking toward the Slipstream, a look of excitement on his face.

    "An adaptive bioship. I don''t recall hearing about more than five made in the whole galaxy. This is a development that could seal Yama''s death."

 Chapter 46: Slipstream Supremacy

    It takes Jos�� and Kisa around five minutes to walk across the Bloodbearer''s hangar bay. When they arrive at their destination, Kisa gasps audibly. "Wow! Is this the Slipstream? It looks way different from the other ships around it!"

    Jos�� nods. "It is, and you''re right; it does."

    The Admiral pauses before the bullet-shaped vessel. At fifty meters tall, seventy long, and thirty wide, it appears much smaller than Drall''s ship, the Red-Tongue, yet still much bigger than the other shuttlecraft nearby. Despite not having stepped inside it since his rebirth, Jos�� vaguely recalls its appearance from the recordings Umi showed him. After taking a moment to replay them again, he cocks his head slightly.

    "Synthmind 4131, your craft appears different from my memories. What are those blue energy-pipes lining your outer hull? They vaguely resemble miniature plasma conduits. I don''t recall you possessing them previously."

    "Affirmative, Admiral Rodriguez, they are miniaturized plasma conduits," Synthmind 4131 affirms, projecting his voice from his ship''s external speakers. "I have improved my performance parameters substantially. Not only has my hull''s generic damage resistance risen by [SEVENTY TWO POINT THREE] percent compared to its previous values, but its maneuverability has also increased by [THREE HUNDRED AND SEVENTEEN POINT NINE] percent. Previously, my vessel could only improve its internal functionality, as I had lost any relevant scans of advanced Terran spacecraft due to the erasure of my original records. This, in turn, caused my hull and programming to revert to its base state. However, by studying the Bloodbearer''s shuttlecraft and interceptors, I have once again built up my data storage enough to form parent-proxy relationships, enabling me to extrapolate new and experimental ship designs over time."

    "That sounds promising," Jos�� says, as he starts wandering around the Slipstream''s exterior, examining it from different angles. "The transformations you mentioned earlier, could you please explain their functionality to me? What are your new and improved capabilities?"

    The Slipstream''s front entry ramp hisses open, deploying to the Bloodbearer''s deckplates. "Admiral, it will be easier for me to explain if you visit my Bridge."

    "Of course," Jos�� replies. He gestures for Kisa to follow him. "Come along. This will be a good learning experience for you."

    "Y-yes, Admiral," Kisa answers.

    The two of them stride up the Slipstream''s entry ramp, with Jos��''s boots clomping loudly, while Kisa''s claws delicately tap against the metal ramp as she timidly tries not to make too much noise.

    After stepping inside the Slipstream''s entry port, Jos�� pauses for a moment to look around. The interior appears just as shiny and fancy as ever, but noticeably more electronic panels line the walls, each of them displaying far more sophisticated information than in the recordings he took before his death.

    "4131, did the Kessu upgrade your internal systems?" Jos�� asks.

    "Negative, Admiral Rodriguez," 4131 replies. "As a Bioship, I can alter my exterior and my interior, provided I have a detailed schematic file available for each desired transformation. The Slipstream is presently in its base form; a Liaison-Class scientific and observation stealth exocraft. This is my most maneuverable and difficult to detect form. By utilizing refractive bioplating, I can scatter and diffuse all but the most tightly-concentrated scanning technology, dropping my sensor profile to the level of background cosmic radiation. However, one of the advanced transformations I have designed with Synthmind Umi''s assistance is one that also reduces my visibility among the known light spectrums, allowing my ship to become all but invisible to the naked eye. Do note that the improvements in stealth also come at the cost of reducing my speed and maneuverability."

    Jos�� rubs his chin thoughtfully. He continues walking down the ship''s corridors, arriving inside the Slipstream''s bridge not long after.

    "Show me the different transformations you have available, please."

    "Affirmative, Admiral. However, please be aware that every transformation will require a substantial time-cost, while others will also require my crew to exit the Slipstream''s interior for the duration of the transformation. This is because adjusting my interior is an exact science; a bio-engineering process that will crush and suffocate anyone within the Slipstream''s confines while I transform. For now, I must recommend that you instead peruse the holographic schematics for my transformations, instead."

    "That works for me," Jos�� says, before turning and flashing a quick smile at Kisa. "Consider yourself lucky. Few Terrans ever got to see an Adaptive-Type Bioship in all their lives, let alone the denizens of this galaxy. The Slipstream might be the last one still functioning within the Milky Way."

    Kisa nods. "I am somewhat familiar with starship mechanics, Admiral... but my knowledge doesn''t go far beyond Fifth Era technology. You''ll probably end up disappointed in any observations I make."

    "There''s no shame in lacking knowledge," Jos�� replies. "It''s only when you refuse to learn that you will inevitably out yourself as an ignoramus."

    "I''ll take that lesson to heart," Kisa replies, lowering her head bashfully.

    The Admiral stands a short distance away from the center of the Slipstream''s Bridge. A holographic representation of the Slipstream appears in midair, showing up as a 1:200-scale image. The Admiral reaches out his hand and begins rotating the Slipstream''s schematics for several minutes, scrutinizing its nooks and crannies.

    "Show me what the schematic looked like before you upgraded," Jos�� orders.

    Instantly, a second holographic image appears next to the first. This one appears a tad smaller, with significantly fewer and less complicated internal circuits, a couple of rooms missing, and a vastly inferior engine and burn drive.

    The Admiral whistles. "Damn. You weren''t joking. It''s like comparing a caveman to... one of Ramma''s Chosen. Haha."

    Jos�� waves his hands, causing both of the holograms to disappear. "Alright. You mentioned seven advanced transformations. Show me those, first. Also, what are the differences between the transformation categories?"

    A moment later, seven holograms appear in midair, each one a vastly different ship than the others. One of them resembles a miniature version of the Red-Tongue, with two wings extending outward and photon cannons mounted in their centers. Another bears the appearance of an extremely long and slim barracuda, with an elastic midsection capable of bending and twisting to avoid attacks.

    "The differences between advanced, intermediate, and low-level transformations are as follows:" 4131 explains. "[FIRST], advanced transformations require my crew to evacuate and wait while I reconfigure the Slipstream''s interior and exterior. Each transformation possesses vastly different designs from my base hull configuration, but also changes my combat capabilities, deep-space exploration capabilities, and so on. These transformations are powerful, but inflexible."

    "[SECOND], intermediate transformations. Some of these require my crew to evacuate while I transform, while others do not. Many of the intermediate transformations are simply variations of the advanced versions, and thus, I must first convert my main body to an advanced form before shifting to the intermediate version afterward."

    "[THIRD], low-level transformations. This term is something of a misnomer. In effect, it allows me to split my hull into multiple smaller vessels possessing independent computational powers, yet all of them still capable of interfacing with one another to increase their effective combat ratings."

    At the last explanation, Jos�� nearly has a heart attack. "What?! You can split yourself into smaller vessels?! How is that even possible? Show me!"

    "Orders acknowledged, Admiral," 4131 beeps. The seven advanced transformation holograms disappear, while the newly upgraded Slipstream base design reappears, followed by six smaller holographic ships, each one only the size of a two-man interceptor.

    "The [SIX] ships presented here are merely miniaturized versions of my main body," 4131 continues. "They possess limited personnel capacity and little in the way of comfort amenities, yet compensate by functioning as excellent escape vessels with an even fainter sensor profile than my base model. I can also adopt offense and defense-based interceptor subtypes, or in certain instances, mix and match according to the situation. For example, [TWO] offensive interceptors, [TWO] cargo haulers, and [TWO] stealth exocraft for the purpose of harassing an enemy frigate."

    Jos��''s head reels with possibilities. "S-show me the seven advanced models again."

    "Yes, Admiral."

    The images once again switch to seven large-sized holograms, allowing the Admiral to scrutinize them one by one.

    "On the far left, you will see a Heavy Fighter equipped with twin-barrel Phoenix Blasters, a small guided missile rack for targeting enemy fighters, and fortified armor all across its midsection and wings. [TWO] rotating gun mounts on the top and bottom allow any organic crewmember to take manual control if necessary and target enemy vessels at their discretion."

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    "To that vessel''s right, you will see the Stealth Fighter I mentioned before. It has a First Strike damage rating of [TEN], but a follow-up damage rating of [TWO]. The forward-mounted railgun is excellent at attacking the enemy from their blind spot, but the power requirement is taxing on my subsystems. If the Slipstream does not cripple or destroy an enemy with the first shot, I will require a significant amount of time before I can fire again. It also possesses [TEN] swivel-mounted machine-guns, sufficient for destroying enemy fighters and harassing shields, but little else."

    Synthmind 4131 continues speaking. He details five other advanced transformations, including a heavy bomber, a personnel carrier, and a living weapons rack with no room for any personnel.

    When 4131 reaches the final advanced transformation, Jos�� chuckles in spite of himself. "Is this even a ship? It looks like a robotic exosuit. I doubt its spaceborne maneuverability will be anything worth writing home about."

    "You are correct, Admiral," 4131 replies, his voice devoid of emotion. "This final transformation is a ground-based assault platform meant for planetary subjugation. In this form, the Slipstream will stand forty meters tall, and be capable of long-range artillery bombardment and close-range terrain saturation alike. This final form is one of several ground-based transformations I researched by studying the schematics of the Titan Battlesuits inside the Planetary Assault bay."

    "Wow!" Kisa gasps, surprising herself and Jos�� both. "I''ve never heard of a ship that can transform into other ship classes, but transforming into a landwalker is even more incredible! Whoever designed the Slipstream must have been a genius!"

    "You''re completely correct," Jos�� says, patting Kisa''s shoulder. "Based upon this assault platform''s thruster profile, it can fly to planets and back to space without any issue. That means the Slipstream could transform ahead of time aboard the Bloodbearer, then fly down to Tarus II and assist our ground forces."

    The Admiral flicks through several dozen intermediate and low-level transformations, discovering that the Slipstream can also transform into up to ten Titans of nearly identical size and firepower as the ones in the Planetary Assault Bay.

    Two hours pass before the Admiral finishes flipping through the Slipstream''s schematics. Kisa stays at his side, gawking and grinning as she chats with him about all the different forms the Slipstream can assume.

    "I didn''t expect to get such a pleasant surprise today," Jos�� says, "but I''m glad I did. Too bad, but I have to leave now. I have an appointment in the holodeck, but I will certainly return, 4131."

    "Your gratitude is unnecessary," 4131 replies. "My purpose is to serve the United Terran Coalition. As long as I can fulfill my duty, I will be compliant with my programming."

    "Maybe so, but I''m still appreciative!" Jos�� laughs. He turns and walks toward the Slipstream''s exit with stars dancing in his eyes.

    After the two of them leave the Slipstream behind, Kisa rubs her claws together in front of her chest. "Admiral, forgive me for asking if this question is inappropriate, but what ''operation'' did you keep mentioning to that synthmind? Something about a dee-munn?"

    "Oh, sorry," Jos�� says, scratching the back of his head. "I forgot I hadn''t told you yet. There''s a terrible monster on Tarus II who I need to kill. His name is Yama, and he is a Demon Emperor. You see, Demons are sort of like parasites..."

    The Admiral continues debriefing Kisa on the enemy they''ll soon face. All the while, she merely nods and listens, taking in the information with solemnity and grace.

    .......................................

    Fifteen minutes later, Jos�� and Kisa arrive at the holodeck''s entrance. They walk inside to find a simulation in progress. Instead of performing combat training, Megla and Soren stand at the far end of the room alongside their father, with a hologram of Yama and his Shades. They pace back and forth, explaining to the nine hundred and fifty-something Kraktol present about the capabilities of the enemy they''ll eventually face.

    Despite having not faced the Shades in direct combat like Jos�� did, Megla and Soren manage to recreate his abilities with Umi''s help, extrapolating a simulated combat event by turning Jos��''s recordings into three-dimensional holograms.

    When Jos�� enters the Holodeck, Kisa immediately locks eyes on the Shadow Emperor and gasps. "Oh, no! Is that Yama? He''s so frightening! I can''t imagine facing him in the darkness, like you did, Admiral. You''re incredibly brave!"

    "I didn''t have much of a choice," Jos�� grunts. "Trust me. Fighting a Demon Emperor and his cronies alone was never something I wanted to try."

    When the Holodeck doors close behind the Admiral and Kisa, all of the other Kraktol turn around to look at them.

    "Admiral," Soren says, raising her voice across the room. "I''ve just finished debriefing everyone here about Yama''s powers and abilities. In fact, I was about to message you."

    "Sorry, I didn''t mean to take so long," Jos�� says, as he walks through the crowd of Kraktol. His eyes flick around in huge, sweeping arcs, passing over the sea of rainbow-colored scalies surrounding him. Before he can make it halfway through the chattering throng, a blue-and-green-scaled Kraktol female suddenly appears at his side as if by magic and latches onto his arm.

    "Jos��, darling!" Sapphire chuffs, attaching herself to him like a possessive lover. "I''m so glad you finally came!"

    Admiral Rodriguez stifles the urge to roll his eyes. "Sapphire. I''m glad to see you, too."

    "Kyargh! Are you? Oh, you know the words I like to hear!"

    Jos�� ignores her and continues walking forward, practically dragging Sapphire along for the ride. He arrives at the front of the amassed Kraktol with Kisa half-hiding behind him, then pauses to stare at the tiny little four-foot-tall Shadow Emperor''s hologram.

    "This demon is presently the most dangerous being in the entire galaxy," Jos�� says, addressing the entire room. "I don''t know what details Soren and Megla have explained, but I trust they''ve covered the important stuff. Killing the Shadow Emperor won''t be easy, but it will certainly be possible. I''ll expect everyone to be on their A-game, and for a level of cooperation that I''m guessing most of you haven''t ever pulled off in all the years since you formed your society."

    After glancing at Sapphire, Jos�� extracts his arm from her grasp, then folds his hands behind his back and begins to pace around in front of Yama''s hologram.

    "The Kraktol are former slaves; servants of the Kessu. You rose up and broke free of your shackles, and quickly became a galactic power in your own right. I must admit, that is an incredible feat and admirable in its own right. However, from my perspective, every single one of you is lacking! Megla is a top-tier soldier in the Kraktol Empire, yet when we first met, she barely met the minimum standards of the ancient Terran Empire. That''s not a dig at my first officer, but simply a statement of fact."

    Jos�� shrugs apologetically at Megla, who merely smiles in embarrassment.

    Then, he continues speaking.

    "I cannot have any subpar soldiers fighting for me in this upcoming operation. Luckily, I have good news for all of you. In exchange for helping me defeat Yama, I am going to unleash upon everyone here a harsh training regimen that will turn each and every one of you into absolute killing machines. Your combat prowess will not double, nor will it triple. I estimate that, instead, you will see a tenfold increase in your battlefield efficiency, turning all of you into titans of your species. When you return home after this operation, you will be able to defeat any of your brothers and sisters in ritualistic combat as easily as if you were fighting fresh spawn, newly crawled from their eggs."

    "I will mold you into true warriors. Monsters. You will become elites capable of destroying empires. Forget credits; the education in the ways of war I''ll soon bestow upon all of you is priceless; something you can''t learn from any modern institution. The experience will be absolute hellish agony, like leaping into lava and barely crawling out with your life intact. Yet, for those of you who persist, you will take your place at the top of the food chain. You will never again know fear in the face of existential danger."

    Jos�� pauses. He swivels on his heel and faces the crowd.

    "Before we begin, allow me to explain a few important details. I will separate you into five groups of just under two hundred Kraktol each. These groups will not be random. I''ll start by measuring the objective strengths and weaknesses of every Kraktol present, including your body''s fitness, as well as your mind. Once I have separated the strong from the weak, I will place everyone into tiers of power. The strongest will be in the first group, while the weakest will be in the last. But worry not! Everyone''s education will be equal. Even those of you with weaker bodies or slower minds may yet prove yourselves by following my orders diligently, by persisting even when it seems as if your bodies will fail, and by pushing forward with sheer willpower!"

    The Admiral pauses for a moment to gaze at the assembled crowd of brightly and dully colored scales, each one of them standing out from the rest, yet with small groups of similarly-colored Kraktol dotted about here and there.

    "What makes a warrior an elite? Is it their pedigree? Their riches? Their fame and glory? Might it perhaps be their physical strength and speed? Their cunning? Their ability to follow orders?"

    "No! A soldier can possess all of those things in abundance, yet still die the first time they step onto a battlefield. The ability to maintain your cool under pressure, the ability to think strategically, and the ability to detect minute changes in the flow of a battle; these three things are far more important. Even the frailest among you can slay everyone here, provided he knows their weaknesses and possesses knowledge they do not. If you cannot harmonize your mind and body, you will always possess exploitable weaknesses your adversaries can turn against you! Follow me, listen to my wisdom, accrued over hundreds of life and death battles... and someday, you will become living gods!"

    The crowd of Kraktol erupts into whoops of excitement and fist-pumping. They roar and chuff excitedly, imagining the future glories they''ll accomplish under the last Terran''s command, all while Jos�� stands silently, allowing their excitement to build.

    After more than twenty seconds of hollering and shouting, Jos�� raises his palm. The room quickly quiets down as the Kraktol await his next words with bated breath.

    "I think it''s clear you all understand what''s at stake," Jos�� says, his voice measured and even. "So, with that in mind, I think we should get right to work. Soren, Megla, guide everyone to the medbays. It''ll take a day or two to measure their physical characteristics, but once you finish, bring them back to the holodeck and notify me."

    Soren nods. "Yes, Admiral."

    "Of course, Admiral," Megla adds.

    The crowd of Kraktol follows after their sisters, the envoys of the almighty Terran. As they leave, Sapphire pouts for a moment before reluctantly joining them, while Kisa hangs back, hesitant to follow.

    "You should go, too," Jos�� says, patting Kisa''s back. "You will be participating in this training as well."

    "I will?" Kisa asks, her scales losing some of their color. "B-but..."

    "No buts," Jos�� says, closing his eyes. "This training will be good for you. You won''t have to kill anything, I promise. Nothing real, at least; only holograms."

    Kisa nervously rubs her hands together. "Admiral... I''m no good at fighting. I don''t think I''ll be of any use to you-"

    "That''s for me to decide," Jos�� says, keeping his eyes closed. "Go. I won''t hear any objections."

    "...Yes. Alright, then. If you say so..."

    Kisa''s shoulders slump as she turns and walks away, keeping to the rear of the Kraktol assembly. Several of her brothers and sisters shoot nasty or annoyed glances at her, but nobody voices any objections.

    A minute later, the Holodeck empties out, leaving only Jos�� and Lord Drall behind.

    The Admiral finally opens his eyes. He turns to face the Kraktol general, then smiles.

    "We''ll have a couple of days before Megla and Soren finish testing everyone. What say you and I spar for a bit? I haven''t had a good fight in... quite a while."

    Lord Drall flinches, but then steels his body and grits his teeth.

    "...I won''t refuse, but please understand I''m not as strong as Orgon. I hope you''ll go easy on me, Admiral Rodriguez."

    An evil glint appears in Jos��''s eyes.

    "Don''t you worry, Lord Drall. I think you''ll find that the Bloodbearer''s medical facilities are far above and beyond anything you''ve ever encountered before. They can fix broken and shattered bones without any issue. Even those pesky internal injuries!"

    Drall takes a step back and raises his fists as a panicked expression washes over his face.

    "Oh dear."

 Chapter 47: Assembling the Troops

    "Admiral," Umi says, "The last Kraktol visitor has taken a physical, and I have finished tallying all of their results."

    Jos�� Rodriguez, the last living Terran, sits up on his bunk and blinks the sleep out of his eyes. In less than two seconds, he swings his legs over the side of the bed and rises to his feet.

    "What time is it?"

    "The time is 7:36 AM, according to the standard Terran time measurement system."

    "Alright. Let me get my brain going first. Tell the Kraktol to assemble in the holodeck in two hours."

    "Yes, Admiral. Would you like to review their results?"

    Jos�� shakes his head. "Nah. I''ll worry about that later. I''m gonna get some chow to start the day right."

    With three days having passed since the Kraktol went off to the medical bay to obtain their bodily statistics, Jos�� hasn''t spent that time idly. The Terran drops to the floor and performs one hundred pushups, then showers, deep-cleans his teeth, and trims his hair. He pauses for a moment to gaze at his reflection before nodding. "Not bad."

    He leaves his room in the Admiral Quarters, stepping outside to find a half-dozen or so Kessu also getting ready for the day.

    "Mraww! Great Precursor! Did you have a good night''s rest?" A female Kessu asks.

    "I certainly did, Tomoko. They''ve been getting easier as time passes."

    "That''s good to hear!"

    Jos�� continues walking. He exits the Officer Quarters and arrives at the Bridge, where he finds Megla and Soren milling about, tapping on terminal screens while compiling information onto their datapads.

    "Admiral!" Megla says, smiling when she sees him. "You''re awake. Did Umi tell you?"

    "About the Kraktol finishing their scans?" Jos�� asks. "She did."

    Megla nods. "Good. I''ll have today''s maintenance results ready for you soon."

    "That''s what I like to hear," Jos�� replies. He waves ''hello'' to Soren and has a quick chit-chat with her, too, then leaves and heads off to the Mess Hall.

    The Admiral arrives inside the Mess Hall, where he finds the fat chonker kitten, Skippy, waiting at the back of the line. The kitten looks up at him and waves. "Oh, it''s you! Heyo, Mister Precursor. Did you hear about Lele''s father, Ruuki? The Machine God says he''ll be all healed up within a couple of weeks! He''ll be ready to walk soon!"

    Jos�� pats the kitten''s head, making Skippy''s tail flick around happily. "I''ll pay Nyoor''s son a visit when he''s up and at ''em. Thanks for the heads-up, kiddo."

    Seeing the Terran at the end of the line, all of the Kessu quickly step aside and gesture toward the front, but Jos�� shakes his head. "I may be the Admiral, but you are all just as valuable of crew as me. I won''t cut in line just because of my position."

    "Mraww, such a kind-hearted Precursor!" Several Kessu chitter. "I wish I could meet others of the Admiral''s species. I bet they were all awesome, just like him."

    "Quiet. Don''t talk about the other Precursors so flippantly. It''s still a sore spot for the Admiral."

    "Oops... sorry."

    Jos��''s expression doesn''t change, but his eyes flicker for a moment as he tries not to listen to the cafeteria''s idle gossip.

    Several minutes later, Jos�� walks away with a plate of rib-eye steak and a piping hot bowl of stew. He plunks down at the nearest table, one where two of the newcomer Kraktol intermix with three Kessu. To Jos��''s surprise, the Kraktol speak normally with the Kessu, without the faintest hint of hostility.

    "Graugh! Is that true?" One of the Kraktol asks, directing his question to Rags. "You used those Thunder Gloves to slap the head off a Disperra? Those Buzor are some of the scariest ones."

    Rags grins, trying not to look too smug. "Well, it was mostly the gloves that made me so strong. The Great Precursor''s weapons are all super awesome. I felt like a badass."

    "You''re not bad, kid," The Kraktol says, lightly smacking the kitten''s back. "When I was just a fresh spawn, I''d have wet myself, facing a Disperra alone. That takes guts!"

    Jos�� smiles while listening to their conversation. He pulls a chunk of his steak apart, salivating as it practically melts in his mouth.

    "How about you, Admiral?" The other Kraktol asks. "Have you got any war stories?"

    The Terran nods while smacking his lips. "Do I? You don''t know the half of it. Where should I start? There was this time I got captured by a group known as the Third Hand. They put me in a maximum security prison and threw away the key. I ended up stuck in there for hundreds of years, but eventually, my patience won out..."

    Jos�� continues talking, regaling the youngster Kraktol and Kessu with tales of his life. They, in turn, listen with awe-filled eyes, finding his stories almost a bit too unbelievable.

    "Just you and Nick, alone, against a hundred guys? How could you possibly survive?" The first Kraktol asks.

    "It wasn''t that hard," Jos�� answers, as he slurps up the last bit of stew. "Ramma''s Chosen weren''t like most other militaries. Just one of us could fight a hundred men easily. Honestly, looking back, I feel a little bit bad for those guys. Of course, they were slavers, so they had my wrath coming."

    "Slavers?" The Kraktol asks. "What do you mean?"

    "You know," Jos�� replies. "They captured other humans and enslaved them. Made them work in mines, or... other unsavory acts."

    "Ohh, I get it," The Kraktol nods. "That makes sense. Graugh! No Kraktol would ever enslave another Kraktol. Only other worthless species, like the Dakku, or the Avaru, or the Kess-"

    The Kraktol pauses mid-sentence and glances at Skippy, then coughs.

    "Err, well, not the Kessu, of course. Please accept my apologies. Graugh! I spoke without thinking."

    Jos�� doesn''t reply for several seconds. Eventually, he places his bowl down and stares at the Kraktol. "Slavery is an act of evil. It does not matter who you enslave, nor for what reason. Only if someone commits an equally reprehensible act can slavery be considered righteous, and only if used as a means of rehabilitation or retribution. Even then, I would argue it still is not the action a morally upright person should take. Now, if you''ll excuse me, I have some things that require my attention. Make sure you''re ready to meet up at the holodeck at the appropriate time."

    The Kraktol lowers his head. "Graugh. Yes, Admiral."

    When Jos�� leaves, the two Kraktol stay quiet for a minute, before the second one clears his throat. "Graugh! It seems the Admiral does not look favorably upon slavery. Why do you think that is?"

    "I don''t know," Rags replies. "But the Admiral is the smartest person I''ve ever met. He definitely has a good reason."

    "Best not to question him," The first Kraktol replies. "Let''s go, then. I want to be the first to arrive at the holodeck."

    "Graugh! A sound plan."

    Both Kraktol get up from their seats and leave their dishes behind. Once they depart, a holographic crew-member materializes to clean up after them and the Admiral''s messes.

    .......................................

    Jos�� spends another hour traversing the Bloodbearer. He checks the Titan Bay, the shuttles, and several other areas, making sure there aren''t any problems that require his attention. Eventually, he heads toward the Holodeck with a bit of pep in his step.

    "Umi. Transmit me the scan results for Drall''s crew."

    "Yes, Admiral."

    Dozens of graphs and numbers appear in Jos��''s vision. He continues walking, all while a virtual workspace opens before him, allowing him to manipulate the results to his liking.

    "Oh, how interesting..." Jos�� mutters. "It seems Sapphire has nearly identical Body and Brain Stats as Megla. I didn''t expect that. And this crew-member, Bantu? His brain stats aren''t too far behind Soren. A ten point one in Memory? Soren scored twelve point three, so that''s quite good. Ooh, but his comprehension is a staggering fifteen! Soren''s was only nine point four. Seems this Bantu fellow would make for a good addition to the engineering team, but I''ll have to test his practical knowledge later."

    The Admiral continues scrolling through the results for several minutes until he arrives at the Holodeck''s doors. Even so, with nine hundred and fifty Kraktol on the list, Jos�� doesn''t make it through half of their names before he waves his hand and closes the virtual workspace.

    "Umi. Enable a statistical display for all of the Kraktol. I want to see their stats floating above their heads."

    "Orders acknowledged, Admiral."

    Without another word, Jos�� steps into the Holodeck. As the doors open, he quickly sweeps his gaze around, discovering that the holodeck has been configured, perhaps by Soren, to resemble an ancient-looking stone arena, one with spectator seats configured with plenty of leg and tail room, where the Kraktol can fight in pairs on the main stage, or sit down and wait their turn in the audience.

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    A comfortable warmth fills the air. In the center of the arena, Soren and Megla stand with their backs together, both watching as half a dozen pairs of Kraktol fight one another, using Terran melee weaponry to trade blows. Swords, maces, staffs, and other similar primitive weapons clumsily bat against each other, while Jos��''s first and second-in-command fire off suggestions to the new recruits.

    "Widen your stance!" Megla shouts. "Anticipate your opponent''s strike."

    "Your reaction time is too slow," Soren says, speaking to a different group. "In a real fight, your opponent would club your head and beat you senseless."

    Jos�� strolls through the narrow gap between two sets of arena seats, drawing dozens of eyeballs in his direction.

    "Admiral on deck!" A nearby Kraktol shouts. Jos�� turns his head to see who spoke.

    "Lord Drall? Is that you?" Jos�� asks, as he stifles a shit-eating grin. "What happened? You look like you tripped down a flight of stairs... several times in a row."

    The leader of the Kraktol, Lord Drall, stands not far from Jos��. Several black and blue marks line his yellow scales, revealing the result of his fight with the Terran Admiral three days prior, after Jos�� challenged him. Even with Jos��''s weakened body following his cloning and resurrection, he still defeated the Kraktol general without any trouble.

    Drall raises his head defiantly. "Graugh! There is no shame in admitting defeat to a superior fighter, Admiral Rodriguez. You beat me, and so I must work harder to catch up to you. That is the Kraktol way."

    "Well said," Jos�� laughs. He walks over and slaps Drall''s back, making the Kraktol wince. "Oops! Sorry, I didn''t realize you were still sore."

    "Why wouldn''t I be?" Drall complains. "Graugh... your fists fell upon me like a rain of meteors. I tried blocking, but you just kept pummeling my poor, innocent arms. What did they ever do to deserve such treatment?"

    "They got in my way," Jos�� chuckles. "Now, enough chit-chat. We''ve got a lot of work to do, separating the wheat from the chaff. Since your soldiers have all completed their scans- oh?"

    Jos�� pauses to look above Drall''s head, where his physical and mental fitness results hover.

    "Daaamn, Drall. Not bad."

    The Kraktol blinks in confusion. "Graugh? Admiral?"

    "Oh, it''s just... your physical fitness results are quite good. Your body is significantly stronger than Megla''s, though you''re not quite as mentally adept as Soren."

    Drall rubs his claws together. "Graugh! That is to be expected. I am one of the strongest Kraktol, after all. Orgon was a rare and exceptional fighter who stood above me, but few others exist of his caliber."

    "Mmm..." Jos�� grunts. "Umi rated your strength at sixteen point five. I don''t know what Orgon''s ratings were, but I do know you''re several tiers above Megla."

    "And yet I still lost to you..." Drall muses.

    After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Jos�� leaves Drall to head toward the arena''s center. Before he makes it to Soren and Megla, both of them turn to look at him in unison.

    "Admiral." Soren nods. "Everyone is here."

    "You came a little later than expected," Megla says, "so we took the liberty to start drilling our kin. I hope you don''t mind."

    "Nope. That''s excellent proactivity from both of you," Jos�� says, squeezing Megla and Soren''s shoulders. "I''ll take it from here. You two can go and take a seat."

    "Yes, Admiral," Both Kraktol reply in unison.

    After they leave, Jos�� turns to face the audience. With more than nine hundred Kraktol seated in the auditorium, only a few dozen spar in the middle of the arena. Jos�� opens his mouth to speak, only to feel a sense of danger behind him. He whirls around just in time to see a flash of blue and green charging at him from behind.

    "Darling!" Sapphire cries. She grabs onto Jos��''s arm and nearly knocks him over, making the Terran frown. "It''s been so long since we last spoke! I was starting to feel lovesick from missing you!"

    "We spoke in the Mess Hall yesterday," Jos�� grouches, as he tries to shake Sapphire off his arm. "Confound you, woman. Must you be so clingy?"

    "Of course!" Sapphire chirps. "Kyargh! If some lesser female gets to you first, it will be my eternal shame!"

    Jos�� rolls his eyes. "Suit yourself. Oh! Actually, since you''re here, Sapphire, I guess that makes you my first volunteer!"

    A deliciously wicked smile spreads across Jos��''s face, making Sapphire turn pale. "V-volunteer? Of course, darling... anything for you!"

    "Excellent! Excellent!" Jos�� laughs. "You can be the first competitor in today''s tournament!"

    Sapphire cocks her head. "Turn-a-mint?"

    "You''ll see!" Jos�� whistles mischievously. He turns to face the audience once again.

    "Everyone! Thank you for coming. All of you know by now what our mission is and why you''re here," Jos�� begins. "We have a terrifying enemy we must defeat. So long as you help me, you will earn my gratitude. I never give out my assistance for free, and neither will I ask for yours at no cost. Your leader, the great Lord Drall, has worked out several conditions beneficial to the Kraktol Empire."

    Jos�� spends several minutes explaining to the audience their mission, the roles they''ll play, and his concept for training all of them.

    "Does anyone here know what a tournament is?" Jos�� asks.

    The audience-members shake their heads.

    "Simply put," he explains, "it is a competition to determine who among you are the strongest. However, this mission requires not only strength, but intelligence as well. Therefore, I will be testing all of you several times over the next two weeks to determine who should lead and who should follow. Disregard any of your previous achievements, any of your military titles, and any other notions of prestige you might have. Before me, all of them are meaningless. I defeated your leader, Lord Drall, in hand to hand combat. That means I can break any one of you without exerting much effort. Give me lip, and I''ll give you the boot. Understood?"

    The audience nods in unison. "Yes, Admiral!"

    "Great! You''re quick learners! I respect that. Now, all of you, line up according to the scores Umi gave you on your physical exams. First group, those with the highest scores, line up to my right. Second, third, fourth, and fifth groups, line up in order to the first group''s right."

    The Kraktol immediately stand up and fall into position, shuffling themselves around until they form five neat and tidy columns. Sapphire leaves Jos��''s side, while Soren and Megla remain seated, exempt from the tournament''s rankings. Jos�� sweeps his eyes from left to right, barely glancing at the wall of numbers hovering over the heads of every Kraktol present. When his gaze reaches the first row, he flinches in surprise.

    "Kisa?"

    Standing in first position, to the Admiral''s amazement, is Kisa Kindris, daughter of the Th��lvik, Loreen Kindris. Jos��''s eyes bug out as he stares at the numbers over her head.

    The Terran mutters under his breath. "What in the Divine Emperor''s name? Are... are those numbers for real?"

    Kisa''s preliminary results rock his world.

    Visual rating: 1.12. Olfactory rating: 1.4. Auditory rating: 1.05. Gustation rating: 3.5. Somatosensory rating: 2.2. Vestibular rating: 0.7. Proprioceptive rating: 0.7.

    Strength: 25.6. Grip: 17.5. Agility: 12.0. Memory: 7.0. Comprehension: 4.0. Endurance: 25.5. Stamina: 20.4.

    The Kraktol watch silently as the Admiral seemingly stares into empty space above the first group''s heads, making them wonder what has happened to him. It takes a full thirty seconds before Jos�� blinks wearily and regains his composure.

    "Kisa Kindris. You... you scored first place on the physical parameter test," Jos�� says, looking Kisa dead in the eye. "Have you engaged in combat before?"

    Kisa''s black and yellow scales flush with color. She lowers her head meekly. "N-no, Admiral, sir. I, um... I did work out regularly according to my moth- ah, I mean the Th��lvik''s requirements."

    "I see. Your excellent genes must be why you... never mind. Well, needless to say, I''ll be relying on you and the others in the First Group during this operation."

    The Admiral clears his throat. "Alright! Moving on. You all will likely feel a range of emotions regarding your placements! These groups are, as of now, only a way to group you by your relative strengths. Statistically speaking, the mightiest Kraktol should have ended up in the First Group, while the weakest should have ended up in the Fifth Group, but I expect these rankings to change drastically during the course of this tournament. For anyone who ends up moving down a rank, I hope you will feel great shame in knowing a weaker Kraktol defeated you. Work harder, and you will redeem yourselves! And for anyone who moves up to a higher-rated group, you should feel nothing but pride! What makes a warrior legendary is not their body or their innate gifts, but how they use them in battle!"

    Jos�� begins pacing up and down the columns, casually inspecting the Kraktol''s numbers as he looks at them. It doesn''t take long for him to get a general idea of how their average and extreme stats will pan out.

    "There is no shame in lacking strength. There is only shame in failing to better yourselves; to empower yourselves! A warrior''s goal is not to seek perfection, for that is an impossibility! Instead, you must focus on steadily improving yourselves, day by day. If you become weaker tomorrow than you are today, then that is shameful! If you instead become stronger, then that is glorious! There is no in-between! A static warrior is one who has given up on life."

    Jos�� stops in between the second and third column of Kraktol to look at Sapphire, smack in the middle of the third group. She smiles at him and waves, but he doesn''t reciprocate.

    "Sapphire," Jos�� says. "You claimed you would make me your mate, yet look at this result! You stand within the center of the central column. In terms of the Kraktol present, you are the most average of average. Do you think yourself worthy of being my mate with such a low status?"

    Sapphire''s scales lose some of their coloration. She lowers her head and sighs. "N-no, darling..."

    "Hmph!" Jos�� snorts. "I do not permit you to call me ''Darling'' any longer! I am your Admiral! If you want a chance with me, then I suppose you''ll have to prove yourself in this tournament! So long as you enter into the First Group, I may consider your advances."

    The Admiral immediately continues walking, while Sapphire raises her head. "Really, darling? Do you mean that?"

    "That''s Admiral to you!" Jos�� replies.

    "Yes, darling! Whatever you say!"

    Jos�� continues walking, but his face droops from exhaustion.

    "How am I supposed to get across to her that I''m not interested... ugh..."

    Just before Jos�� reaches the end of the third column, a nearby Kraktol pipes up. "Admiral! I''ll definitely enter the First Group! Just you wait and-"

    "Silence!" Jos�� barks. He turns to fire off a stink-eye at the Kraktol who spoke. "You are now a temporary member of the Terran Military Corps! When you stand at attention, you do not speak unless your superior officer asks you a question."

    The Kraktol nods, then quickly straightens his posture. "Yes, Admiral."

    "Good! Now that I''ve explained my goals to you all, let us continue with the rules for this tournament!"

    Over the next twenty minutes, Jos�� paces up and down each column several times while all of the Kraktol stand at attention and listen to him silently. He outlines the tournament''s guidelines, the loser and winner brackets, the rules for advancement, and so on.

    At one point, Admiral Rodriguez stops at the end of the fifth row, where he finds a scrawny little male Kraktol, someone with numbers so pitiful that even one of the stronger Kessu could slap and bully him around if they wanted.

    "You there. What is your name?"

    The Kraktol glances at Jos��, and his knees start to tremble. "I-it''s Grundle, sir."

    "Grundle? What kind of sorry-ass name is that?!" Jos�� yells. "Listen up, kid. You are the weakest, most pathetic Kraktol here. I don''t even know how a sad sack like you ended up among so many fine, proud specimens. But I have good news! You can''t possibly go any lower in the ranks, whelp! I expect to see you rise several positions by the time this tournament concludes. With hard work and discipline, even a loser like you can make it into the First Group. That''s how incredible Terran training is! Do you understand me?"

    Grundle nods nervously. "Y-yes, Admiral..."

    "I can''t hear you!"

    "Yes, Admiral! Sir!"

    Jos�� smiles. He smacks the kid''s back and continues walking behind the Kraktol''s ranks.

    "Truth is, one of you has to be the worst. One of you has to be the best. If Grundle here does indeed make it out of last place, someone else will take his spot. That result will be sad, but expected. If you do find yourself in last place, but your combat prowess has also increased, then at the very least, you won''t have wasted my time. Do I make myself clear?!"

    "Yes, Admiral!" All nine hundred and fifty Kraktol shout.

    "Fantastic. Well, what are we waiting for? Megla! Soren! Let the tournament begin!"

    The hangar erupts in cheers, and everyone disperses, running back to their seats to eagerly await and see who will start the tournament. Minutes later, a holographic board appears, with a spiderweb of competitors all swirling inward until they reach a central position at the center of the web.

    Jos�� looks at the starting entrants and sighs.

    "Umi. Didn''t I tell you to make the entrant''s positions random?"

    "Affirmative. I followed your orders, Admiral," Umi replies.

    "Yeah. Sure you did."

    The Admiral plunks down on a seat at the corner of the ring and cracks his neck.

    "Here comes two weeks of fun, fun, fun."

 Chapter 48: The Kraktol Tournament

    Nine hundred and fifty-something Kraktol stand within the confines of the Bloodbearer''s Holodeck. Having removed all the seating from the room, Jos�� pairs off a quarter of the Kraktol present and has them stand opposite one another atop small, elevated platforms.

    "The rules are simple," Admiral Rodriguez says, as he paces between the Kraktol warriors. "Knock your opponent to the ground and pin them there for ten seconds, throw them out of the ring, or beat them unconscious so they can''t get back up. No killing. If you kill your opponent, I will personally execute you myself, and there won''t be anyone here who can stop me. We''re all allies, but I won''t tolerate savage, uncontrollable psychopaths aboard my ship. If you cannot stay your claws against your own kin, I certainly won''t trust you not to backstab the Kessu, let alone me. Do I make myself clear?!"

    "Yes Admiral!" All the Kraktol shout.

    "Fantastic," Jos�� replies. "There are no judges necessary. Umi, this ship''s synthmind, will observe your matches. When the borders of your ring flash red, that will mean she has designated a winner. Immediately stop fighting and disembark your platform. Now, without further ado... begin!"

    Seconds after Jos�� finishes speaking, a brutal, all-out melee erupts. Brother fights brother, sister fights sister, and both sexes even fight each other.

    Jos�� walks away from the competitor rings to a nearby elevated stage, where Lord Drall, Soren, and Megla stand, watching the participants from above. He leaps atop the twenty-foot-tall platform, startling Lord Drall with his agility.

    "Your Terran physiology is far mightier than I expected, Admiral," Drall remarks, a look of covetousness in his eyes.

    "It''s nothing special," Jos�� replies, turning his attention to the combat arenas. Jos�� positions himself between Drall and Megla, with Soren standing on Megla''s opposite side. "My body is nowhere near its peak strength. I''ll need a year of daily training before my muscle augmentations reach their maximum threshold."

    Admiral Rodriguez sweeps his gaze across the arena. He recognizes some of the participants, including the scrawny little last-place warrior, Grundle, as well as Kilgore, the sole Algaru among all of the Kraktol present. However, neither of them catches Jos��''s attention, but instead Sapphire, facing off against her opponent, the top-ranked Kraktol, Kisa Kindris.

    Not only does Jos��''s attention fall upon the two of them, but Drall, Megla, and Soren''s as well.

    "Oh, to think my daughters would both fight each other in the first round..." Drall mutters.

    Kisa stands half a head taller than Sapphire. Her deceptively lean, muscular figure mirrors Sapphire''s exactly, making the two of them appear evenly matched. It''s only the numbers above their heads that indicate any sizable difference between the two combatants.

    "In a world where numbers are the deciding factor," Jos�� mutters, "Sapphire loses this fight ten out of ten times."

    Drall nods sagely. "However, that is not the reality within which we live."

    "Very true."

    Sapphire immediately lunges forward and balls her claws into fists. Kisa shrinks back from her sister and holds up her arms to protect herself. Sapphire rains a flurry of blows upon Kisa, pummeling her arms, shoulders, and midsection. Even so, her persistent punches only push Kisa back a bit and make her stumble a little. Kisa''s incredible strength and durability turn Sapphire''s brutal followups into feeble raindrops splashing upon a window.

    "Kyargh!" Sapphire shouts, as she sweeps her tail toward Kisa''s feet. "I have to get into the First Group, but you''re in my way!"

    Kisa hops in the air, evading Sapphire''s attack. "I-I don''t want to fight you... little sister..."

    "You have to!" Sapphire shouts, as she continues punching and kicking Kisa''s immobile body. "Those are the rules!"

    "But I don''t like fighting!"

    "Kyaaaargh! I don''t care what you like! I care about getting into the First Group so I can mate with my darling!"

    Kisa continues her passive resistance, hiding behind her arms as she tries futilely to protect herself from Sapphire''s frenzied attacks. Sapphire rushes at Kisa and crashes into her, bowling the Malvik over and knocking her to the floor. She swings her fists again and again, smacking Kisa''s head from side to side. Even so, Kisa''s unbelievably durable body prevents her from suffering any serious injuries.

    "Aargh!" Sapphire yells. "It''s not fair! Why do you get all of the best genes?! They''re wasted on a weakling pacifist like you! Fight back, you little coward! You''re not fit to be the Malvik!"

    Kisa pushes Sapphire away and jumps to her feet, all while gasping for breath. "We don''t have to fight, S-Sapphire! We''re sisters! I''ll just concede... then you can win."

    "Oh, no you don''t!" Sapphire howls. "I''m going to beat you fair and square, mommy''s girl! Kyargh! If you dare give up, I''ll never forgive you!"

    The smaller Kraktol hops around, jabbing the air with her fists as she hypes herself up for her second engagement against the Malvik.

    Kisa shrinks back again. "W-why do you have to be so unreasonable?"

    "Stop blubbering and fight me!" Sapphire yells. "I can''t earn my darling''s respect if I beat someone who won''t even fight back! This fight will become a stain upon my honor!"

    "B-but..." Kisa mutters.

    "No buts! Kyargh! Fine! You leave me no choice, Kisa! I''ll finish this in one move! I''m gonna leave a mark on you that you''ll never forget!"

    A vicious glint appears in Sapphire''s eyes. She unballs her fists and exposes her claws, then charges at Kisa.

    Slash-slash-slash!

    Sapphire rakes Kisa''s arms with her talons, tearing off several of Kisa''s scales and bloodying her limbs. Kisa shrieks in pain and cowers under Sapphire''s onslaught.

    "Ow! Oww! Sister, stop, please! It hurts!"

    "Good!" Sapphire snarls. "It should hurt! I''m glad it hurts! All you do is whine, cry, and sniffle, all day long! You''re an embarrassment to the Kraktol!"

    She slashes Kisa''s midsection, making Kisa dive to the side instinctively to clutch her wound. "Kyaaargh! It hurts! You''re hurting me!"

    "Yes, this is a fight! That''s what we do in fights!" Sapphire retorts. "But if you still won''t hit me back, then I''ll just have to get even nastier!"

    Sapphire rears her claws back. She lunges forward, aiming for Kisa''s eyes.

    In that split-second, a look of terror washes across Kisa''s face. She watches in horror as her sister goes for the finishing blow, a cruel attack that will mutilate her and leave her a disfigured, ugly crocodile for years to come.

    At that moment, her fear turns to rage.

    "NO!"

    Kisa balls up her fist and swings upward.

    THUMP!

    She uppercuts Sapphire''s lower jaw, slapping it against her snout. The impact creates a clapping sound and instantly reverses Sapphire''s momentum, flinging her backward. The blue-and-green Kraktol spins around and crashes against the platform, skidding on her back toward the edge. Once she stops, she falls silent, only managing to cough weakly while her body remains immobile.

    "O-oh no!" Kisa gasps. She jumps to her feet and runs over to Sapphire. "S-sister! Are you okay?! I''m so sorry! I didn''t mean to hit you! N-not that hard, anyway!"

    Sapphire''s eyes flick around in confusion. "Kuh! Kuh... good... good work, sis..."

    Kisa reaches down to cradle Sapphire by the back of her neck. "Don''t worry! I''ll get you to the medics! You''ll be okay!"

    Sapphire''s eyes narrow to slits. "Kah! At least you fought back. Now my victory won''t be an honorless one."

    The Malvik pauses. "Huh?"

    Suddenly, Sapphire grabs Kisa''s outstretched arm, then plants a foot against her stomach. Before Kisa can react, Sapphire flips her into the air, over her head, and throws her off the platform.

    Thunk!

    Kisa lands on her back, knocking the wind out of her.

    "Aaah! Aaaooo..."

    She watches as Sapphire painfully climbs to her feet while massaging her jaw. "Tch. As expected. You landed one blow, and then you lost your nerve. Some Malvik you are."

    The ring''s borders flash red, and Umi speaks from above. "In the first match of Kisa versus Sapphire, Sapphire wins. Please depart the combat platform so that the next participants may take their positions."

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Without another word, Sapphire turns and staggers away.

    Admiral Rodriguez and the others watch the entire battle silently, without commenting on any of its happenings. After it concludes, the Terran shakes his head.

    "That''s what I was afraid of. Kisa has a body any Kraktol would kill to possess, but she hasn''t a drop of fighting spirit nor bloodlust. Such incredible strength is wasted on her."

    Drall snorts. "Graugh. Just look at Sapphire. She is the most average of my warriors in terms of martial prowess, yet she fights like the Th��lvik herself. Hehe... when I look at her, I cannot help but remember the first time I gazed upon Loreen''s shimmering scales..."

    While Lord Drall muses to himself about the past, Jos�� stares at Kisa, noting the expression of guilt, sadness, and betrayal on her face.

    There were no winners in that fight... Jos�� thinks. Only two sisters who further fractured their relationship.

    ...

    Hours pass.

    Kisa and Sapphire fight again, but this time against different opponents. Many other Kraktol join the battles, slowly working their way up and down the rankings via their defeats and victories.

    At the end of the first day, everyone disperses, allowing Jos�� to examine the new rankings.

    "Soren."

    He gestures to his Second Officer, and she walks over. "Yes, Admiral?"

    "What do you make of these preliminary rankings?"

    Soren looks at the names on Jos��''s datapad. She points at a few specific Kraktol. "These two here, they''re brothers. You can see they''ve both gone up the rankings ten positions, mirroring one another. And over here, Kilgore was ranked at the bottom of the First Group, yet he''s already advanced twenty positions."

    Jos�� nods. "And Kisa? She''s fallen forty positions. It won''t be long before she plummets to the middle of the First Group."

    Megla walks over to the Admiral''s left side. "I don''t know Kisa well or anything, but I''ve heard rumors. She isn''t a competitive person. She hates fighting, and she frightens easily. Don''t let her statistics fool you, Admiral. Even with her incredible genetics... Kisa won''t amount to much here."

    "That''s too bad..." Jos�� mutters. "I actually like Kisa. She''s nice. Pleasant. But if she goes out to the battlefield as she is now... she''ll only become a liability."

    "Who knows?" Soren says. "Maybe this competition will change her. Sometimes, people need a push before they can break out of their shell."

    Megla shakes her head. "Once a coward, always a coward. Kisa won''t ever change."

    "We shall see," Soren replies.

    The Kraktol file out of the room, while the Admiral and his two officers follow at the rear. However, just before they leave, one of the smallest, scrawniest Kraktol turns around.

    "A-Admiral, sir!"

    Jos�� pauses. "Grundle? Is something the matter?"

    The lowest-ranked Kraktol bows his head sheepishly. "Not... not exactly, sir. Well, I mean, yes... I lost six matches in a row today! Graugh! I''m still in last place! I don''t want to stay a loser! Can you help me?"

    "Haha. What, do you want some personal one-on-one training?" Jos�� asks.

    Grundle falls to the ground and kowtows. "Yes! Please, graugh! Please train me, Admiral! I''ll do anything you ask, no matter how hard the task!"

    Jos��''s eyebrows arch visibly. "Is that so? Well, you''re the only Kraktol who was smart enough to ask. I will train you, but don''t expect to get any sleep tonight. If you want to apprentice in the ways of war under me, I''ll bust your balls and whip you into shape. I''ll go even harder on you than I did Megla and Soren. Are you okay with that?"

    Grundle quickly raises his head and slaps his jaw against the floor. "Yes, Admiral! No matter what you order, I''ll do it! But, erm..."

    "What?" Jos�� asks. "Something on your mind?"

    The scrawny gray Kraktol''s scales flush with color. "N-not exactly... it''s just... what are ''balls,'' sir? Will it hurt if you ''bust'' them?"

    Jos�� facepalms. "It''s... a Terran metaphor. But needless to say, busting them would hurt, yes."

    "Graugh! I see! Well, a little pain won''t kill me! When do we start, Admiral?"

    Jos�� glances at Megla and Soren, then motions for them to leave. After they depart, he grins.

    "Right now. Umi, switch to the monster fighting simulator. Let''s see how Grundle here handles a Troll."

    "Orders acknowledged, Admiral."

    .......................................

    Hours become days, and days become weeks.

    Two weeks after the tournament''s start, Admiral Rodriguez stands with Lord Drall at his side. All of the Kraktol line up before him according to their tournament rankings, with five groups of just under two hundred Kraktol each.

    Jos�� slowly surveys the participants, sweeping his gaze across their ranks. So drastically have their positions shifted that hardly anyone has remained within their initial group. Sapphire, no longer within the Third Group, now stands near the front of the First Group with her chest pridefully puffed out. Ranked thirtieth out of the nine hundred and fifty Kraktol present, she has drastically shifted the opinions of those around her, earning herself a large degree of respect.

    Meanwhile, Grundle, no longer as scrawny as he was two weeks prior, has a similar muscle mass to all the other Kraktol and stands at the front of the Third Group. When he sees the Admiral looking at him, he smiles cheekily, then averts his eyes, remembering the Admiral''s directions regarding military decorum.

    "Everyone. You have done well," Jos�� says, as he continues examining the Kraktol''s positions. "Based upon how drastically the rankings have shifted, I think it goes without saying that all of you must have realized the importance of actual combat experience compared to raw body strength. When you started, many of you compared your statistical numbers to those around you. Some of you felt shame, while others felt pride... but look at you now!"

    Jos�� slowly walks toward the First Group. "Many who were weak at the start proved themselves by defeating brothers and sisters stronger than them, while many who smugly thought themselves invincible fell into desolation. This tournament''s results are what happens when theory meets reality. Look at the one who now stands in first place!"

    The Terran smiles as he stops before Kilgore, the lone Algaru descendant, and the first-ranked warrior among all of the Kraktol.

    "Kilgore... one hundred fights, and zero losses! What a fine warrior! What cunning you displayed! What ferocity! What tenacity!"

    Admiral Rodriguez grabs Kilgore''s hand and raises it high. "Kilgore, your champion!"

    The room erupts in cheers. Many Kraktol look at him with deep respect, remembering the viciousness of his fights and how badly he beat them. Very few look at him with anything less than unbridled envy and fighting spirit, for they know that he has, indeed, earned his position.

    Jos�� lowers Kilgore''s arm. "You who stands a full head shorter than everyone present. You, who by all means should have lost every fight, instead won them all consecutively! You are the only Algaru I have ever met, but already, your presence here is a testament to the strength of your species."

    Kilgore''s body stands straight and proud. However, his eyes tell a different story. Tears form at their corners, making him blink repeatedly. "Hurgh. Forgive me, Admiral. I... I should not weep at a time like this..."

    The Algaru''s deep, growly voice stands in contrast to his small stature. Jos�� pauses to smile at him. "There is no shame in crying, Kilgore. Your tears come not from sadness, but from relief. I know why you fought so hard... and you succeeded in fulfilling your goal. Nobody here will ever question the might of the Algaru."

    After comforting Kilgore, Jos�� turns to look at the Kraktol in second place. "Gorlax Stormfang, former communications officer under Orgon. As the oldest Kraktol here aside from Drall himself, you have done well not to lose to your juniors. Your round with Kilgore was one I''ll not forget for centuries to come."

    Several scars line the green-scaled Kraktol''s chest, all of them from his fight with Kilgore. Gorlax nods slowly. "Graugh! If I had to lose to anyone today, I''m glad it was Kilgore. He is a true warrior, and the honor of his people!"

    The room erupts in cheers again. And so, Jos�� continues walking the ranks, congratulating several of the more outstanding Kraktol present. He even pauses to point out Grundle, demonstrating just how far the former last-ranked Kraktol has come.

    However, Jos��''s mention of Grundle causes many Kraktol to look toward the rear of the Fifth Group, where one female appears particularly conspicuous.

    Jos�� casually walks toward the last place among everyone present. There, he finds Kisa, the former strongest, now at the very bottom of the ranks.

    "One hundred fights. One hundred losses..." Jos�� mutters. "I suppose fighting really isn''t in your nature."

    Tears well up in Kisa''s eyes. She hangs her head in shame, while her body trembles uncontrollably. "I''m... I''m sorry, Admiral, sir... I just..."

    Admiral Rodriguez squeezes Kisa''s shoulder. "You can''t help the way you are. You''re still young, Kisa. You''ll have plenty of opportunities to better yourself."

    After hesitating for a moment, Jos�� continues walking. Most of the Kraktol in the Fifth Group hang their heads in shame, having fallen from the higher ranks to their current, pitiful states. Only a few, who started off in the Fifth Group and advanced their positions, look at least a little bit spirited.

    "In life, there are winners, and there are losers," Jos�� says. "Rarely does a situation arrive in which everyone can win. For one of you to claim victory, someone else must suffer a defeat. Therefore! For those of you who fell in the rankings, just remember... it is not victory or defeat which determines your value... but whether or not your losses have taught you any lessons! Now that we have established the five groups, I will begin training all of you in earnest. Over the next several months, I will forge you into warriors. Then, we will attack Yama, the Shadow Emperor. We will wipe out his heretical filth from this galaxy, and all of you shall return home as legends!"

    "Yeah!!" The assembled Kraktol shout. "Graugh! Kyargh!!"

    "Now disperse," Jos�� concludes. "You begin your training tomorrow."

    The crocodilians turn on their heels and leave, slowly filing out of the Holodeck''s exit. As they leave, only a few remain behind, consisting of Grundle, Sapphire, Drall, and Jos��''s crew.

    "I did well, didn''t I?" Sapphire asks, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she rushes over to Jos��''s side. "Thirtieth place! I''m in the First Group now, darling!"

    Jos�� crosses his arms. "Yes. Good job."

    His tone contains no warmth.

    "Is something wrong?" Sapphire asks, batting her eyes. "I thought you''d be ecstatic! Now we can finally be together!"

    "As I''ve said on several occasions, I have no interest in mating with you," Jos�� explains. "More importantly, what you did to Kisa was downright awful. Defeating her in battle was one thing, but the way you insulted and belittled her was uncalled for. I would never have treated any of my brothers-in-arms so terribly, let alone my blood-related family."

    Sapphire glances at Megla, who turns her head away in reply. "But darling, that''s not my fault! Kisa was much bigger and stronger than me! I only did what I needed in order to win! She''s tough! She can take a tongue-lashing!"

    "Often, the spoken word hurts more than any blade or bullet," Jos�� mutters. The Admiral turns his eyes away from Sapphire, making her lower her head. He glances at Grundle and smiles. "You, on the other hand. You may not have made it into the First Group, but I daresay nobody worked harder than you in this tournament. Just look at those bags under your eyes! You''ve barely slept at all over the last two weeks."

    Grundle''s grey scales look even less colorful than usual. He staggers forward, smiling haggardly. "I could never have gotten this far without your help, Admiral. Graugh! I will serve you obediently for the rest of my life."

    "I''m glad to hear that," Jos�� replies. "Now, go and get some rest. I''ll give you one night off before we return to training like crazy."

    "Yes, Admiral!"

    Grundle leaves with a huge smile on his face. After his departure, silence falls over the group, with Sapphire looking the most uncomfortable.

    "I''m... I''m going to go apologize to Kisa..." Sapphire says. "M-maybe you''re right, darling. I did say terrible things to her."

    Jos�� nods. "You did, but your relationship hasn''t completely shattered. I hope you can remind her why you''re such a good sister."

    Sapphire nods, but doesn''t reply. She shuffles out of the room behind Grundle, while Drall, Jos��, and his officers stay behind.

    "Alright. Soren," Jos�� says. "Get together with the technically-minded Kraktol and Kessu. I want as many shuttlecraft fixed over the next few months as you can manage. Focus on weapon-oriented craft, those we can use to fight the Shades. Megla, I''ll be leaving the training of the Kraktol to you. As for Drall and I, we''re going to iron out the details of this operation. I''ll pop into the Holodeck whenever I have time, but don''t expect to see me often. Understood?"

    Both women nod simultaneously. "Yes, Admiral."

    They leave, while Jos�� and Drall stay behind.

    Admiral Rodriguez mentally reconfigures the holodeck, transforming it into an operations center, one with a huge, three-dimensional image of Tarus II in its center.

    "Lord Drall... let''s get to work."

 Chapter 49: Ruuki Awakens

    While Jos�� and Drall go about their business, determining the future of their cooperative murder-venture, in a medical bay elsewhere on the Bloodbearer, a trio of Kessu gather around a hospital bed to gaze at a tiger-colored Kessu with black stripes running across his orange fur.

    Nyoor, Baaru, and Lele watch as the Bloodbearer''s best holographic doctors finish the awakening procedures on Ruuki, their relative they rescued from Yama''s Caves. Lele in particular jumps up and down excitedly as the tiger-Kessu''s eyes flutter open.

    "Mraww... where... am I?"

    "Daddy! Daddy!" Lele exclaims. "You''re awake! You''re finally awake!!"

    Ruuki shifts his head to the side, where he sees the Kessu Patriarch and Matriarch standing beside him, their heads and pointed ears twitching excitedly as they barely manage to peep over the top of the Terran-sized bed. At the same time, Lele''s short stature makes it impossible for her to see her father, so Baaru reaches down and hefts her granddaughter up onto the bed.

    "Lele?" Ruuki says, recognizing his daughter. "You''re okay? What about... the Shadow Monster? Where is he? Where am I, even?"

    Ruuki glances around the stunningly bright and pristine medical bay. A truly massive seven-foot-tall furless biped hovers over him, with only golden blonde hair streaming out the top of its head and flowing down its shoulders. Ruuki gets the impression the creature is female, though its oddly symmetrical face makes him feel somewhat uncomfortable.

    "Welcome back to the world of the living, Ruuki, leader of your tribe. My name is Penelope. I am a Holographic Bio-Entity synthesized to assist others medically as well as to render psychological assistance. You have suffered numerous physical injuries, but thanks to my state-of-the-art technology, I was able to perfectly reform your physical capabilities. How are you feeling, currently?"

    Ruuki stares at the woman for several long seconds.

    Slowly, he turns to look at his father.

    "Mraww. What did-?"

    "Don''t ask me, kiddo." Nyoor says, shrugging helplessly. "These Precursors all speak a bunch of nonsense! Meow! I can''t understand half the things coming out of their furless lips!"

    Lele, now sitting on her father''s lap, rolls her eyes and sighs dramatically. "It''s not that complicated. You got all healed up, daddy! You''re as good as new!"

    "Oh? Well that''s good! That''s great!" Ruuki meows, sitting up straight to hug his little girl. "I''m so glad to be alive! I thought... I thought that monster was going to kill me for sure..."

    Baaru''s eyes darken. "Ruuki... those caves... the situation is a little complicated."

    Ruuki turns to listen as his mother goes into great detail over the next half-hour, explaining just what the heck happened after the Kraktol attack, how she and Nyoor led them away, and how they accidentally revived a super-powerful ancient entity known as a Precursor.

    The more Ruuki hears, the more his eyes widen.

    "So... so all those poor women of our tribe... they were captured by that Yama?! They''re his slaves now?! NOO! MEOW! HISS! How hateful! How despicable!"

    "It is truly an awful situation." Baaru says, lowering her head. "The Precursor is going to launch an attack on the shadow-monster and his minions. The Kraktol did hate us before, but we''re not enemies anymore. They fear our Admiral''s power, and as such, won''t do anything to make him mad!"

    "Hmph." Ruuki snorts. "Those Kraktol are another matter. Father, our ancient records state the Kraktol are our greatest enemies. How can we so easily forgive them their sins? That Yama may have taken our females, but it was the Kraktol who pushed us into the caves!"

    "They did." Nyoor nods, appearing visibly tired. "But... things have changed. The Kraktol attacked us because of ancient grudges. In truth, the wars of our forefathers and mothers are not our wars. None of the modern Kessu or Kraktol hold any truly bad blood with each other. The Admiral thinks we can reconcile... and I feel that he is right."

    Seeing his father''s firm expression, Ruuki hesitates.

    "Mmm... well... I can''t say I disagree. But what about our fallen friends and family? What about all the Kessu who have died? We lost at least a thousand villagers to their sky gods!"

    "The perpetrator of that attack has been murdered in fair combat by the Admiral." Baaru says, her voice gently lilting. "Orgon the Betrayer has had his grave spit upon and condemned by the Kraktol. Since their arrival, none have made any threatening moves toward us. Perhaps you should take some time to meet them and form your own thoughts, my son. I think you will find they are not that bad."

    Seeing his mother and father''s insistence on at least trying to maintain peace, Ruuki eventually relents. The four-foot-tall tiger flips his legs over the bed, drops to his parents'' level, and brings Lele down too.

    "...Alright! I''d like to get a look at these stupid scale-faces and see what sorts of people they are. As for that Admiral''s plan... I want in!"

    Baaru flinches, visibly taken aback. "You...?"

    "I''m going to join that team! I''m gonna help kill that filthy shadow bastard!" Ruuki exclaims, growing angrier by the second. "He... he dragged our girls away while they screamed. I tried to stop him, but I could hear their meows grow fainter and fainter, all while his shadow-monsters surrounded and beat me back. I''ll never forget how weak and useless I felt. As a tribe leader, I''ve failed my people. I must redeem myself!"

    Ruuki presses his paw against his chest. "I won''t be useless anymore. I will have your Admiral train me to be a stronger fighter so I can take revenge with my own paws. Only that way will I feel satisfied!"

    "Meow! Daddy''s so cool!" Lele exclaims, smiling cutely. "No wonder mommy fell for you!"

    "Mrow... yeah..." Ruuki says, his excitement cooling off. "Your mother was... tsk. I still think about her."

    Ruuki exchanges more words with his mother and father. Eventually, he leaves the medical bay along with Lele, the two of them chatting with each other and bonding over all the memories they''ve missed sharing.

    "I don''t understand." Ruuki says, as they pitter-patter down the hallway softly, their paws making hardly any sound. "How could you be almost seven star-cycles old? Didn''t you say it''s only been a month since I entered the caves?"

    "It''s called Inverted Space, daddy." Lele meows, rolling her eyes again. "It''s not that complicated. Time flowed faster for me, so I got older quicker. More importantly, what are you going to get me for my birthday?"

    Ruuki awkwardly flicks his ears. "Um. I''ll, uh... I''ll definitely get you something good, sweety-pea! Daddy never treats his precious girl badly!"

    The two of them follow Umi''s guidance as she leads them to Admiral Rodriguez''s current position. Soon, they arrive at the primary Holodeck, where they step inside to find a jungle of trees and undergrowth currently being simulated. Inside this virtual forest, hundreds of Kraktol swarm around the bushes, roaring as they fight frightening-sounded monsters in the underbrush.

    "W-what the heck?!" Ruuki meows. "Why are there trees here? Weren''t we... on a space-thingy? A metal sky-creature?"

    "It''s just a bunch of holograms, daddy." Lele says, rolling her eyes even harder a third time. "It''s not that hard to understand."

    Hearing his daughter''s chiding words, Ruuki''s fur flattens as he feels slightly ashamed. "O-oh. Right... hollow... grambs... sorry, sweetie. Daddy''s not very smart about this... stuff..."

    "Sigh!"

    Lele huffs to herself, but otherwise doesn''t fault her father too much. Unlike Lele, who visited her technologically advanced aunt on several occasions, Ruuki and the other Kessu have always been embarrassingly aloof to the wonders of technology. They were quite content to stay in their village and live primitive lives, at least until the Kraktol attacked.

    Of course, things have changed since joining the Terran''s crew. Now, many Kessu from across Tarus II have regained their interest in technology. They work tirelessly to repair the Bloodbearer''s assault craft and interceptors, returning it to its former glory as a launching platform for interstellar warfare.

    Ruuki and Lele carefully step into the holodeck. As they enter a terrifying ROAR erupts from within, nearly causing both of them to wet themselves.

    "Mraww!" Ruuki exclaims. "What was that?! It sounded like a monster!"

    "It probably was..." Lele says. She crawls out of her father''s arms and pads back to the doorway. "Um... good luck, daddy... I don''t wanna go in right now. You''re brave! You can handle yourself..."

    Just as Lele is about to leave, a male Kessu walks up behind her and grabs her shoulders. "Boo!"

    "Meow!" Lele shrieks, spinning to look at her unexpected attacker. She discovers his identity is Rags, the same fellow who fought valiantly to protect her and her unconscious father in the caves.

    "R-Rags!" Lele huffs cutely. "Don''t sneak up on me like thaaat!~"

    Rags pats her head and smiles. "I''m just kidding around. More importantly, what are you doing here, Lele? Are you going to join in with the Precursor Training?"

    "No way." Lele grouches. "That''s boy-stuff. I brought my daddy here to meet the Kraktol. Now I''m leaving."

    Rags glances at Ruuki. He gasps in excitement. "Mister Ruuki! Meow, meow! You''re awake! Are you feeling all better?"

    Rags runs over and hugs Ruuki, who hugs him back. "Good to see you, Rags. Yeah, I feel great! Those ugly shadow-monsters couldn''t keep me down for long! I hear you had quite the kick-butt moment in those tunnels. You really saved my fur, and Lele''s too."

    The cunning tiger shoots a mischievous grin at his little girl, then shoves Rags toward her.

    "Say, why don''t you two let this old Kessu have a look around, eh? You two should go and play some games. I don''t want some strong young predator stealing my thunder!"

    "But... Mister Ruuki!" Rags protests.

    "No protests!" Ruuki exclaims. "Go! Go! Don''t forget I''m the leader of our tribe! I call the shots, kid."

    "Well. Alright." Rags says, not noticing the greater intentions of Lele''s father. He turns to leave and stops beside Lele. "So, uh, wanna get some food in the mess hall?"

    Lele''s ears twitch. "Alright! That sounds like fun! Bye daddy, we''ll see you later! Take care!"

    "Haha. I''ll be just fine!" Ruuki says, turning around to head deeper into the jungle foliage.

    As the two kittens head back and the entrance to the holodeck closes, Ruuki settles down a bit and continues moving deeper into the synthesized jungle. It doesn''t take long before the roars of that monster from before grow louder, along with the guttural cries of the Kraktol attacking it.

    "Hold it down! Wrap chains around its mouth!"

    "Impale its feet to the ground! Pin it in place!"

    Ruuki jumps through the foliage, only to suddenly arrive in a clearing where three Kraktol hold onto chains wrapped around a massive, bipedal monster with a single eye on its forehead. This creature, a Cyclops, is a physically stronger version of a Troll, albeit with a weaker regenerative factor and four arms on its body.

    The pale-skinned Cyclops roars in rage. It grabs onto one of the chains and yanks with all its strength, but the blue-scaled Kraktol at the other end digs her feet into the dirt and wraps her tail around a tree, crying out in pain as her vertebrae become stressed.

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    "G-Grundle! I can''t... hold on... much longer! Kyargh!"

    Just as it feels as if her back is going to break, a short grey-scaled Kraktol with a relatively toned and muscled body charges out of the underbrush, a wooden spear held at the ready. Its stone-tip appears crude, but also sharpened to a frightening edge!

    "GRAUGH! I will land this killing blow!" Roars Grundle, formerly the weakest of the Dragon''s Breath crew. He races toward the Cyclops, plants his feet against the ground, and leaps twenty feet upward, using his tail to give himself an extra boost.

    "Aaaah!"

    Grundle''s aim flies true. He impales the weapon directly into the Cyclops'' eye, making its roar of rage and pain cut off abruptly as its brain becomes filled with the cold, sharpened edge of a stone spear-tip.

    The Cyclops falls silent as it loses its balance, staggers backward, and collapses into its shadow. The other Kraktol roar with excitement!

    The blue-scaled Kraktol, none other than Sapphire, runs over and claps Grundle on the back. "Way to go, Grundle! That was an incredible takedown! You''ve really been practicing your aim!"

    "Excellent work, little brother!" Shouts another of the Kraktol. "Bahaha! I can''t believe you''ve been languishing as a mechanic this whole time. You''re a true warrior!"

    The Kraktol celebrate their kill while Umi announces their combat rating.

    "Kraktol Team: Sapphire. You have scored a combat rating of C-. This is a 12% increase in performance over your previous result. Excellent work."

    Sapphire, as the leader of the team, pumps her fists excitedly. "Kyargh! It''s all because Grundle did such good work! My Darling is going to be so proud of us!"

    As the Kraktol cheer, Grundle turns to the side and happens to spot Ruuki standing in the foliage. "Graugh? Who are you, Kessu? Your smell is not familiar to me."

    The other Kraktol pause their cheering to look at the newcomer, slightly perplexed.

    "He''s new to me, too." Sapphire says.

    "So you are the Kraktol who attacked my village..." Ruuki says, not backing down even when such tall, dangerous-looking predators stand a mere stone''s throw from him. He maintains his alertness, ready to flee if they make any sudden moves, but doesn''t let his worry show on his face. "You are the ones who killed my friends and family. I am Ruuki, son of Patriarch Nyoor. What do you say in your defense?"

    The atmosphere, previously one of celebration, turns slightly awkward.

    "Cough! Um... well, that wasn''t actually us." Sapphire says. "None of the Kraktol involved in that attack, except for Soren, Megla, and Gorlax, are here. We come from a different place."

    "We still hold some of the blame." Grundle says, piping up to counter his sister''s words. "Graugh! We once held a lot of prejudice toward the Kessu. If we were on Orgon the Betrayer''s ship, we would have joined in on his foul acts for sure. But now that we have seen the Kessu for ourselves, we must admit the little furballs aren''t so bad!"

    Another Kraktol female snorts. "Perhaps not. But they are still tiny, weak little creatures. Not like us Kraktol, who are superior in every way."

    Ruuki bristles visibly. "What was that?! Mraww! I am the mightiest warrior of my village! I dare you to say that again! I''ll rip your scales off any day of the week!"

    Grundle glances at the tiger-colored Kessu. He blinks, sizing Ruuki up. "You are? Graugh! You certainly have a lot of fight in you. But how strong can a tiny little ball of fur truly be? Why don''t you and I have a little competition to see if the Kessu are decent at the art of combat, hmm? It would not be fair for you to duel against the best Rodaks in my squad."

    "You want to compete against me?" Ruuki snorts. "Meow! Fine! This Kessu has some kick! What manner of combat shall we try? I trust you won''t stoop to your cheating ways!"

    "I would never cheat!" Grundle shouts, inflamed by Ruuki''s words. "Synthmind! Help me devise a fair competition with this Kessu furball!"

    Umi beeps above. "A fair competition. Affirmative. Due to the physiological differences between your two species, the Kessu and Kraktol would at first glance appear to be unevenly matched. However, the Kessu are quick and nimble. Crewmember Ruuki''s claws are deadly enough to tear out flesh, and therefore, his threat level stands at only a small margin lower than your own, Visitor Grundle. I will ask Admiral Rodriguez for permission to create a holographic program appropriate for a competition between your species."

    The synthmind beeps three times, then falls silent. She communicates remotely with Admiral Rodriguez, who casually gives his consent for the Kraktol and Kessu to settle their differences in a balanced competition.

    "Admiral Rodriguez has laid out the basic arrangement for your competition." Umi says after a minute or two. "You will engage in a virtual hunting competition of prey both large and small. You will attempt to kill or capture as many prey as possible. Small prey will count for fewer points, while large prey will count for more. Additionally, I will allow you to form teams with your fellow Kraktol and Kessu, so long as both sides agree to this arrangement."

    "Hmm. Should we do team-based matchups, or a solo competition?" Ruuki wonders. "Mraaw! I can take you on by myself, Kraktol!"

    "Let''s make this fair." Sapphire says. "For every two Kessu, there will be one Kraktol. Then the playing field will be completely level."

    "Are you saying it takes two Kessu to match up to one Kraktol?!" Ruuki protests. "Nuh-uh! I won''t accept that! Let''s just keep this a 1v1! Me against you, Grundle! You talked smack, so I''ll claw you back!"

    "Just you two? Well... alright!" Sapphire says, shrugging nonchalantly. She gestures at the other Kraktol in her group, all of them female, and they take a step back to let Ruuki and Grundle hash out their differences.

    "Very well." Umi says, her tone sounding very slightly annoyed. "It will be a solo competition then. I will reconfigure the parameters to meet your needs."

    Ruuki and Grundle swap a few more barbs toward each other, but the Kessu noticeably softens his anger, perhaps due to seeing the genuine empathy in the Kraktol''s eyes. After all, Grundle doesn''t appear to hold any hostile thoughts toward him, so the Kessu can''t help but feel maybe his father was right.

    Twenty minutes later, Umi completes her preparations, and the hunt begins!

    The lean crocodile and tiny tiger race into the jungle, using nothing but their claws and teeth to hunt down animals and monsters large and small. Not only does Umi place orcs and goblins inside the simulation, but plenty of creatures native to Tarus II, in an effort to give Ruuki a fairer matchup. As one of his village''s best hunters, the tiger-Kessu is no slouch when it comes to combat, but his diminutive body does come up a little ''short'' in terms of strength.

    Ruuki rips out the throats of several demonic-type monsters. He pounces through the treetops catching birds and flinging them to the ground, all while the distant sounds of Grundle''s roars make his ears twitch.

    The tiger''s thoughts race. I can''t let that Rodak get the best of me! I have to win for the glory of my people!

    He increases his speed, pouncing on creatures large and small, taking them down with ease. However, on occasion he will encounter truly huge and scary predators, such as a single roaming Cyclops, to which he keeps his distance and slinks away, realizing he can''t take down such an immense beast.

    Three hours later, Ruuki collapses onto the simulated dirt after Umi announces the competition''s conclusion.

    "Attention, competitors Ruuki and Grundle. The time limit has been reached. The simulation will now end."

    A moment later, the holographic forest vanishes, leaving Ruuki on the clean white floor. He glances around himself, only to spot a small group of a few dozen Kessu and Kraktol, all of them having come to witness the results of his competition with Grundle. Ruuki''s daughter, Lele, stands off to the side along with Rags, her tail twitching back and forth.

    "We saw everything, daddy!" Lele exclaims. "You did great!"

    "Nice work, Mister Ruuki!" Rags chimes in. "You kicked serious tail out there!"

    Ruuki''s eyes flicker to Grundle, who also lays in a heap on the floor, exhausted and at his body''s limits. The Kraktol shakily climbs to his feet, and Ruuki mirrors him, neither of them wanting to look weak in front of the other.

    "Haha!" Ruuki laughs, between pain-filled breaths. "We''ll soon find out who won, Rodak! I hope you''re prepared to receive the humiliation of a lifetime!"

    Grundle swallows several gulps of air. "Heh... if I lost, it will not be a shame, but an honor. It means I still have room to grow. And if I win, that is only natural too. These are the words of wisdom imparted to me by my Admiral!"

    Slightly taken aback, Ruuki''s bravado falters. He ponders Grundle''s little speech and reralizes those words of wisdom make more sense than he wants to acknowledge.

    "...It seems I am wrong about you Kraktol." Ruuki says, as he walks over to clap his paw into Grundle''s grasp. "You aren''t just a bunch of big, dumb scalies! You''ve taught me a lesson I won''t forget!"

    "My knowledge is shallow, and my vision limited!" Grundle exclaims. "What wisdom I possess comes not from me, but from the great Terran! Admiral Rodriguez is my idol, and I will follow his every command!"

    Umi beeps overhead. "I have finished tallying the results. Starting with Kessu Crewmember Ruuki, he has successfully hunted fifteen Pelip-Birds, twelve Filiris, ninteen Goblins..."

    Umi continues speaking for almost a minute, tallying off Ruuki''s impressive list of kills. The other Kraktol and Kessu near the entrance to the holodeck gasp in amazement.

    "So many in only three hours?" Rags asks, amazed. "Mister Ruuki is amazing! I still have a long ways to go!"

    "That''s my daddy!" Lele meows.

    When Umi reaches the conclusion, she finishes with a final numeric value for Ruuki''s hunt value.

    "Crewmember Ruuki has accumulated 14,705 points. Next, I will tally Visiting Delegate Grundle''s kills..."

    Without delay, Umi begins firing off the number of creatures Grundle killed, causing Ruuki''s elation to vanish.

    "Twenty-seven goblins? That''s much more than me. And eighteen Orcs? How did he even...?"

    The Kessu at the entrance fall silent, while the Kraktol whoop and cheer.

    "Amazing! I was worried that furball would beat our boy, but there''s no chance now! Grundle truly trounced his tail!"

    "It wasn''t a fair battle." Sapphire explains. "Didn''t you hear? Ruuki only just woke up today. He has not received any of my darling''s personal training. If he were to compete against the Grundle of a month ago, I''ll bet he would have won handily."

    "Good point." Says another Kraktol. "We have been blessed with the Admiral''s tutelage. And nobody works harder than Grundle! I hear he only gets two hours of sleep a night. He even entered this competition right after hunting that Cyclops! He is even more brutal to himself than he is to his enemies!"

    "We truly did Grundle a disservice by leaving him to rot as a mechanic all these years! He''s a trueblooded Kraktol, through and through!"

    Umi finishes her tallying. "In the end, Visiting Delegate Grundle managed to accumulate 20,088 points. This represents a difference in value of roughly forty percent. Next, I will tally Crewmember Ruuki''s species handicap, as approved by Admiral Rodriguez. After accounting for Crewmember Ruuki''s size, strength, and other physical characteristics, his adjusted point value will be..."

    Umi pauses, causing everyone to tense up. Despite being a synthmind, she still seemingly knows the value of building anticipation.

    "...20,214 points. Therefore, according to the rules laid down at the start of this competition, I have judged Ruuki to be the winner of this competition."

    Umi''s declaration, while loud and final, does not draw any cheers or jeers from either side. Instead, both the Kraktol and Kessu fall awkwardly silent, while the competitors themselves glance at one another, unsure of what to say.

    "...I won?" Ruuki asks, befuddled. "But. It doesn''t feel like a win. I hunted many fewer creatures than you!"

    "You have beaten me according to the agreed-upon rules." Grundle says, quietly closing his eyes. "Well done. I am in awe of your combat prowess."

    "Oh, that''s a load of spit!" Ruuki huffs. "What''s all this about a handicap? I don''t need a handicap! I lost, you won! You''re the better hunter compared to me!"

    "As we agreed from the beginning," Grundle says, opening his eyes, "you are smaller than me and only recently woke up from your coma. It is fair that you have been granted bonus points. I, on the other hand, was not able to break past the limits placed upon me. I still have much training to do."

    Across the Holodeck, the other Kessu and Kraktol start walking toward the competitors. Lele''s ears flatten as she frowns.

    "My daddy won, but he''s not happy."

    "That''s because he doesn''t think he won fairly." Rags explains. "It''s a guy thing. He wanted to beat the Kraktol fellow on equal footing."

    "Yeah, but a win''s a win!" Lele protests.

    Perhaps hearing his daughter''s words, Ruuki puffs out his chest.

    "Hmph! I only won because of the handicap. I''m still pretty rusty after waking up, so what do you say you and me have another competition in a few weeks, eh, Grundle? Do you dare to take me on once I''ve recovered my full strength?"

    Grundle''s own passion ignites upon hearing Ruuki''s words. "Hah! I only lost because I have not advanced far enough! You think you can beat me a second time? When next we fight, I will only increase my point lead!"

    "We''ll see about that!" Ruuki meows, though his delighted expression reveals he isn''t all that annoyed about winning or losing anymore. "At the very least, you will make for a decent whetstone for my future ascension!"

    "Me, your whetstone? You will be my whetstone!" Grundle laughs, clapping the tiger''s back. "But enough chit-chatting! I''ve worked up one heck of an appetite."

    "Me too!" Ruuki laughs.

    The two men turn to face their friends, and soon after, roars of laughter and appreciation ring out in the holodeck.

    As the large group leaves to head to the food court, they pass by Admiral Rodriguez and Lord Drall, both of whom pause to congratulate the winners.

    "Excellent work, Sir Ruuki!" Lord Drall exclaims, dropping to his knees. "You are a worthy leader for your people! I am the second-highest in command of the Kraktol Empire, and the one who was partially responsible for the attack on your village. I beg your forgiveness, as I have decided to change my ways and become a friend to the Kessu people!"

    Jos�� rolls his eyes, having heard this shtick from Drall so many times over the past two weeks that it''s become an ear-sore. However, he says nothing, allowing Drall to go about his theatrics as he pleases.

    Upon hearing Drall''s confession, Ruuki pauses mid-stride. The others around him also halt in place, glancing at the Kessu village leader with thoughtful expressions, and even looks of regret.

    Ruuki frowns. "You are... the one who ordered the attack?"

    Drall''s snout bops against the deckplates. "Graugh! I am he! I was a foolish Rodak, and I will spend the rest of my life atoning for my sins if that is what it takes!"

    Hearing such heartfelt words from Drall''s mouth, Ruuki appears uncertain of what to do. He mulls over Drall''s words for a few moments before slowly nodding.

    "...Alright. Whenever we go to deal with these shadow-creature-things, I will expect you to personally bow at the foot of my Koogali tree and apologize to the Kessu ancestors for your sins. That will clear up our debt. And you will not hurt the Kessu ever again!"

    "Of course!" Drall shouts, beating his chest with grief. "It will be as you say, leader of your village. I will do so a thousand times if it helps to clear the pain from your heart."

    Ruuki nods. "No need for that. I can hear the sincerity in your words. For the sake of a better future... I will forgive you your sins."

    Ruuki glances up from Drall''s kneeling form, as if finally noticing the towering figure of the Precursor behind him.

    "Hm? You look like that golden-haired creature." Ruuki says.

    "Hi, Ruuki." Jos�� says. "You don''t know me, but... well, I led Baaru and Lele into the mountain to rescue you. I''m glad to see Nyoor''s boy is up and at ''em again."

    "You were the one who helped rescue me?" Ruuki asks. "Thank you! You must be that Precursor I''ve heard so much about! You saved my people and brought about peace with our blood-enemies. You have truly done us a great service! I will follow you to the ends of the Void in order to pay you back!"

    Jos�� waves his hand. "No need for that. I just want to make sure Lele has a daddy, moving forward."

    Drall rises to his feet, and he and Jos�� take their leave while waving goodbye to the group of Kraktol and Kessu quickly forming bonds.

    After the two leaders depart, Ruuki smiles.

    "Such a good-looking creature! For some reason, I really want him to pat my head!"

    Lele laughs. "You and grandpa both!"

 Chapter 50: The Eradication and Extermination Mission

    Three months later, on the Bloodbearer''s Holodeck.

    Thirty Kraktol, all of them led by the lone Algaru, Kilgore, battle against an army of holographic monsters. Five gigantic trolls, fifty orcs, and more than a hundred goblins and Disperra crash upon the outnumbered Kraktol like waves upon a sandy beach.

    Thanks to the terrain of the simulated caves, Kilgore carefully positions his soldiers to maximize their positional advantage. They spread out in a half-circle formation, forcing their enemies into narrow chokepoints where the Kraktol with ranged weapons can pepper the monsters and Buzor with bullets while those at the front can tank the orcs for minutes at a time, relying on their heavy armor.

    Most of the Kraktol opt to wear advanced Terran armor and wield ranged Terran weaponry, but Kilgore does not. He instead clutches a two-handed vibro-axe, swinging it around with incredible ferocity. The scorching hot blade lops his enemy''s heads off, cleaves their bodies in half, and otherwise sets their corpses ablaze. Thanks to the Holodeck''s advanced simulation capabilities, the emotions of Kilgore''s orc and goblin enemies play out exactly as they would in real life. Many of them panic and flee, seeing the unstoppable, unarmored Algaru charging them.

    Kilgore embeds his axe into the base of one troll''s skull, melting its brains to mush. During that brief moment, his weapon snags on the troll''s bone, causing his heart to skip a beat. He tries to yank the axe out, but moves a half-step too slow, allowing a pair of orcs to leap up the troll''s back and slash at his exposed flank.

    Blam! Blam!

    Sapphire snipes the orcs from her backline position, blasting their skulls to smithereens. Her quick thinking and precise aim allows Kilgore to live another day. He nods at her, then yanks his weapon out to continue his rampage.

    Minutes later, the simulation shuts off and Umi speaks from above.

    "Class B+ Combat Simulation complete. Combat grade: A+. Bonus points awarded to Interim Crewmember ''Sapphire'' for her timely rescue of Interim Crewmember ''Kilgore.'' Bonus points awarded to Interim Crewmember Kilgore for killing fifteen enemies unassisted. All combatants have received a passing grade. Ending simulation now."

    Every single Kraktol breathes a sigh of relief. They walk up to each other and clap their claws together, congratulating their teammates on their successful simulation run, one that ended with no allied casualties. Many admiring smiles follow Kilgore as he walks up to Sapphire and bows.

    "Hurgh. Thank you, sister. I thoughtlessly charged the enemy''s backline and nearly cost us the mission. Were this not a simulation, I might have fallen. Thankfully, you saved my tail."

    Sapphire hugs her smaller Algaru brother. "It''s no problem at all, Kilgy! That''s what teammates are for!"

    From across the hall, an older Kraktol walks up. Gorlax Stormfang, the Kraktol who once served under Orgon the Betrayer, frowns at Kilgore.

    "I observed this simulation with great interest, Kilgore. Why have you opted not to wear any armor? Had those orcs struck you from behind, a decent set of Terran Power Armor would have preserved your life, if not nullified their attack entirely."

    "I intend to wear armor during the final mission," Kilgore says, straightening his posture respectfully. "However, to preserve a sense of danger during these simulation, I have chosen not to wear any protective equipment. Suppose the armor''s power system were to fail when we moved to attack Yama? If I relied too heavily on it, it could cost me my life. I would rather learn to rely on my own strength than weapons forged by even the best blacksmith."

    Gorlax rubs the underside of his crocodilian jaw. "Graugh! I see. Your logic makes sense. Perhaps in the future I should train all of the recruits with such a mindset. In any case, I''ve received word from Admiral Rodriguez. He wants all the Kraktol and Kessu crew to join him on the shuttle deck in two hours. Get your team cleaned up and ready."

    Sapphire''s eyes light up with excitement. "Oooh, is it time? Is my Darling finally going to start the demon extermination mission?"

    "I believe he will," Gorlax replies with a nod. "Graugh! Dismissed."

    Gorlax turns around and departs, leaving the other Kraktol to chatter amongst each other excitedly.

    Minutes later, everyone disperses to return to their quarters. Sapphire walks with a pep in her step.

    "I can''t wait to see my Darling! Just wait until he learns how strong I''ve become!"

    .......................................

    Two hours later, nine hundred and fifty Kraktol join more than fifty thousand Kessu in the Bloodbearer''s hangar bay. Having spent the last few months not only training, but also integrating the Kessu from Tarus II into the Bloodbearer''s crew, the Kessu''s numbers have shot into the stratosphere. With so many cats and crocs packed into one area, hundreds of them opt to climb atop nearby parked transport ships for a birds-eye view, while the friendlier Kessu ride atop the shoulders of their new Kraktol friends.

    Despite the Kraktol''s attack on Tarus II half a year earlier, a collective air of unfamiliarity no longer lingers, allowing most of them to look at each other without prejudice. Still, many Kessu keep to themselves and stare at the Kraktol distrustfully, especially those who directly lost family members to the Kraktol''s attack.

    It doesn''t take long before a wave of cheers erupts from the ship''s southern end. Admiral Rodriguez strolls through the assembled crowd with his first and second officers, Megla and Soren, in tow. Along with them, Drall Brighteye walks beside the Admiral, nodding discreetly at his subordinates.

    When the group of four reaches the front, the crowd falls silent. Some Kraktol and Kessu whisper quietly to one another, but for the most part, everyone focuses their attention on the Terran Precursor.

    "Hello, everyone," Jos�� Rodriguez says. "As I''m sure you''ve heard, today''s meeting is intended to prep for the attack on Emperor Yama and the Buzor lurking beneath Tarus II''s surface. I''ve spent the past few months working with Lord Drall on various potential avenues of attack, and as of a few days ago, we''ve finally reached a consensus on the operation going forward."

    Jos�� holds his left hand in front of himself, then aims his palm upward. He transmits a mental command to Umi, who then summons a miniature holographic image of Tarus II above his palm.

    The Admiral uses his right hand to manipulate the image, expanding the hologram as required to zoom into the same mountain range where his original body perished months before.

    "Umi has dropped dozens of seismic scanning devices all across a one hundred mile zone surrounding the mountain range. I''m going to refer to them by the Kessu''s chosen name; the ''Emerald Peaks.'' The Emerald Peaks extend five miles from east to west, with the most noteworthy cave entrance located on the southern side, near Patriarch Nyoor''s former village. However, it would be incredibly foolhardy for us to restrict ourselves to advancing upon only this one entryway, and that is why today''s meeting is so important."

    Jos�� continues. "Based upon Umi''s seismic scans, the caves we uncovered extend for more than twenty miles below the planet''s surface. Any planetary bombardment we might attempt can only penetrate roughly five miles below the surface without drastically affecting the surrounding ecology or creating a planetwide disaster. While I must stress the importance of slaying the Demon Emperor Yama, I also see no good reason to needlessly glass such a lush and beautiful world as Tarus II. There aren''t many planets in the Milky Way with such a rich and diverse ecosystem, so I would prefer not to accidentally cause an ecological collapse during this operation."

    The Admiral turns to his right and nods. "Soren."

    His Second Officer, Soren Mudrose, steps forward while folding her claws behind her back. "This mission is time-sensitive. We don''t know Yama''s whereabouts, and so we can only hope that he has remained underground. However, the moment we alert Yama, he will become capable of escaping our attack. Our goal is to kill this Demon Emperor, not the Buzor or the monsters under Yama''s employ. If a million of them die but Yama escapes, this mission will have been in vain. To that end, we need to rush in at full speed and use all of Admiral Rodriguez''s Terran weaponry to slaughter anyone in our path."

    She continues. "Firstly, this mission will take place shortly after the first light of dawn. So long as sunlight beats upon the planet''s surface, Yama will not be able to escape easily. His powers involve the manipulation of shadows, and as such, he suffers when exposed to sunlight and photonic radiation. Speaking of which, Megla?"

    Soren turns to her sister. Megla nods and continues from where Soren left off. "Kyargh! This is the fun part, so listen well! The Admiral has a whole bunch of awesome weapons at his disposal, and we''re going to use them to their fullest extent. Before we make landfall, the Bloodbearer will fire two barrages of carefully targeted missiles at the planet''s surface. The first salvo will consist of bunker-buster missiles, each capable of boring deep into the planet''s surface. These missiles feature a two-stage detonation sequence. The first fires a molten payload in a specified direction, instantly boring a hole five miles deep. The second stage releases a wave of freezing-cold liquid, which expands and hardens, leaving the newly-bored hole permanently open and rendering it all-but-immune to geological collapse."

    Pausing for half a moment, Megla grins. "I call it the Blast ''n Glass Charge. It blasts a hole, then glasses it to give us a direct path to the mountain''s depths."

    Several Kraktol grin wickedly, imagining the ''fun'' they could have with such an incredible weapon.

    "Unbelievable..." Gorlax mutters, positioned near the front of the First Group. "A weapon that can instantly bore tunnels down into a planet''s surface. In all my years, I''ve never heard of such a ridiculous device..."

    At Megla''s mention of the device, her father, Drall, stands a little more upright. A hint of greed appears in his eyes.

    If I were to recover some of this Terran weaponry and bring it back to Loreen, she would certainly reward me greatly. The Kraktol Empire could easily overpower those wretched Mallali, putting our people on the political map! It seems I was right to offer the Terran my assistance. He may even become somewhat indebted to me following this operation.

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    After a moment''s contemplation, Drall''s eyes lose a bit of their luster. His greedy gaze turns somewhat malevolent.

    Of course, under even better circumstances, with my daughter as his First Officer, would it not benefit me more if the Admiral were to perish during this operation? In that case, the Kraktol would gain control of this mighty vessel, making us the mightiest sentients in the entire galaxy! Hmm...

    Lord Drall keeps his thoughts silent. He listens intently as Megla continues.

    "Kyargh! After we Blast ''n Glass a few dozen entrances to the planet''s depths, we''ll follow up with some specially designed missiles the Admiral built himself. Admiral?"

    She returns the discussion to Jos��, allowing him to follow up. "While it is true that our primary goal during this mission does not involve slaying as many Buzor or monsters as possible, that doesn''t mean they are not our enemies. They will certainly put up a fierce fight, and so, we shall slaughter many of them as an afterthought. I''m sure this goes without saying, but these heretics gave safe harbor to an enemy to all sentient life. Do not allow even a drop of pity for them to enter your hearts, as their protection of a Demon Emperor means they have forsaken their rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Ramma''s Creed, the code I spent my entire life upholding, dictates that no heretics must be allowed to roam the galaxy. Even if it costs me my soul, I will give up anything so long as it means exterminating Yama. While you are here following my orders, I will expect the same of you."

    The Admiral pauses, then cocks his head. "That being said, please do not take any unnecessary risks. If the only choice before me is to sacrifice this entire ship to slay Yama, then so be it and I shall... but for this particular operation, I do not see any situation of that severity occurring. Protect your comrades, rely upon the teamwork you''ve fostered, and put your skills to the test."

    Jos�� waves his hand, causing the image of the Emerald Mountains to shift again, this time revealing dozens of holes bored into its sides.

    "After we release the Boring Charges, we will follow up with Photonic Concussion Missiles. These will fly into the bored holes, detonate at the bottom, and release intense bursts of solar energy into the planet''s depths. Any being in the immediate area shall have their eyes melted and their brains fried, but even if the light itself doesn''t strike them, the photonic radiation will. The radiation will travel through even a mile of dense bedrock, irradiating their eyes and causing permanent blindness. Following the photonic energy release, a two hundred decibel shockwave will blast outward, shattering the eardrums of any souls within a three mile radius of the detonation zones. After both stages complete, that is when we can move in."

    Jos�� traces several lines through the air, making all of them fall from the Bloodbearer''s orbit to the mountain range below. "Drop teams will deploy, each comprised of fifty Kraktol and one hundred Kessu. With your enemies having lost their senses, the initial rush should prove simple. Move forward, kill anything in your path, and search for Yama. I can only hope that the photonic radiation will kill him right from the start, but it''s likely he will survive. His Shades are far less hardy than him, and so I suspect huge numbers of them will have already perished by the time each team arrives. Search for their demonic miasma; it will show up as pitch-black residue on the walls, ceiling, and floors, each drop capable of absorbing the light around it."

    One Kraktol in the Third Group raises his hand. "Graugh! Err, pardon me, Admiral, but... I did not realize the Kessu would join us on this mission."

    "Yes, they will," Jos�� says, giving the speaker a once-over. "Have you forgotten? Tarus II is their home. It is their duty to fight and protect it. If you think these short little fluffballs are too ''weak'' to join you in direct combat, I''ll set up a combat match with Ruuki, where you can find out for yourself just how wrong you are."

    Ruuki, standing off to the side with many other Kessu, raises his paw. "Mraww! How about it, ''scales''? Wanna go a round with this here itty-bitty kitty?"

    The Kraktol''s scales flush with embarrassment. "Err, no. Graugh! Forgive me. I spoke out of turn."

    Jos�� chuckles. "I''ll have you know that Ruuki has recently improved his skills. He duked it out with Grundle and managed to win one of the recent matchups in a hunting simulation, after two consecutive losses. The Kessu might not be ''quite'' as amazing in direct combat as the Kraktol, but they don''t fall far behind either. He''s no pushover, and you''ll be lucky to have him on your side."

    The Admiral''s words cause a stir of frenzy among the Kraktol, causing some of them to look at the tiger-striped Kessu with wary eyes. Having recently competed against Grundle, Kilgore, and the other officers, they know just how difficult beating them can be. Grundle in particular has seen the sharpest improvement in his skills compared to the rest, now standing within the Second Group of Kraktol elites after starting in the very last position.

    Clearing his throat, Jos�� continues. "Once we reach the deepest region possible, each assault group will have to move autonomously. Umi will guide you as best she can, but the Bloodbearer''s scanners cannot penetrate the planet''s crust due to a few... irregularities. You will have to seek out the Demon Emperor, pinpoint his location, and guide the other teams to your position. Under no circumstance are any teams to deliberately combat the Demon Emperor on their own. He is far too dangerous for you to fight without my assistance. If he attacks you first, switch to the defensive strategies Megla taught you and wait for reinforcements. Pick off any Shades he might have guarding him, but otherwise keep your distance."

    "We only have twelve hours to complete this operation," Soren says. "Once the sun begins to set, Yama can flee anywhere on the planet that he likes. He may have already hidden himself elsewhere; we don''t know. We can only hope that his arrogance, recorded in Admiral Rodriguez''s memories, is just as prominent as it was one hundred million years ago."

    One Kessu, the young boy named Rags, raises his hand.

    "Yes?" Soren says, turning to look at him.

    "...What if he did escape already?" Rags asks. "Then... won''t all this be a big waste of time? Will we have to search the whole planet for him?"

    Jos�� lowers his head. A strange look enters his eyes.

    "...If Demon Emperor Yama did, indeed, already escape to some other location on Tarus II... then I''m afraid our only remaining option will be to sterilize the planet from orbit."

    With those words, the room falls silent. Several Kraktol gaze at the Admiral with looks of surprise, while others merely frown, uncertain what he means.

    "S-sterilize?" Rags asks.

    "We will erase all life on the planet''s surface, as well as within its depths," Jos�� replies. "I will perform a Type 3 Planetary Bombardment. I will unleash one hundred and fourteen different types of lethal radiation across every continent, turn every ocean to acid, and forcibly empower the planet''s geological movements. Volcanos will simultaneously erupt at fifty different locations, creating a runaway greenhouse effect. I may even go so far as to disperse the planet''s atmosphere, depending on Umi''s predictions."

    Elder Nyoor''s paws tremble. He steps forward while leaning heavily on his walking stick. "G-Great Precursor... surely... surely such a reckless action should not be attempted! This world is my home. Our home! Have we no say in its future? What of the creatures which rely upon its shelter? What of our culture and memories? Why must we go to such terrible lengths just to kill this one solitary enemy?"

    Baaru''s eyes harden with anger. "My husband speaks the truth! Mraww! Great Precursor, don''t you think such a horrific act of evil is going too far?! You speak of the evils this ''Yama'' can unleash, but how could they be any worse than destroying a world filled with sentient life?!"

    "I would, of course, take steps to rescue as much of the planet''s biodiversity and transplant it onto another world," Jos�� says. "In the event that I decided a planetary bombardment was our only option, please rest assured I would not immediately slaughter every creature thoughtlessly. I would follow the first law of Terran Ethics and seek to preserve as much of Tarus II''s ecosystem as possible. The planet''s moon, Kelkin; it could be terraformed to serve as a new home for your people. The Bloodbearer does possess files pertaining to terraforming devices, and as such, given time, we could construct a fleet of drones capable of turning Kelkin into a second home for Tarus II''s residents."

    "That doesn''t matter!" Baaru exclaims. "A home is not merely a place we recognize, or a world that allows us to breathe, sleep, and eat! It... it''s more than that! So much more! I cannot in good conscience allow you to destroy our entire world in pursuit of your revenge!"

    Hearing the Matriarch''s anger, Jos�� hesitates. "...Baaru. I do not wish to glass your planet any more than you wish to see it glassed. To say it would be my last resort is to understate how little I want that terrible fate to occur. Rest assured, I will go to any length to prevent that from happening."

    "So you say..." Baaru hisses. "But haven''t you said that this Yama fellow cannot travel offworld anyway? He''s as good as trapped here!"

    "Actually," Lord Drall interjects, "that isn''t true, Matriarch Baaru. Based upon what Admiral Rodriguez has told us, in the past, Emperor Yama once lived on a completely different world. Somehow, he traveled here, to Tarus II. While demons may be incapable of space travel, that does not mean they couldn''t hitch a ride with another space-faring civilization. Were a random Mallali ship to travel here, Yama might stow away and infiltrate the Mallali Core Worlds."

    Jos�� shoots a look of gratitude in Drall''s direction, then continues. "If we fail to exterminate Yama, then I will work with the Kessu to explore other options. For now, let''s shelve the talk of planetary bombardment to focus on more useful measures. Megla, why don''t you go ahead and give everyone the rundown on who will enter which group?"

    Megla nods. "Yes, Admiral."

    She launches into a Q&A segment, explaining to the various Kessu and Kraktol present who will enter each of the twenty-something assault groups. As she does, Jos�� quietly exits stage left, leaving the rest of the meeting to her, Soren, and Lord Drall.

    After the Terran departs, a flicker of motion catches Jos��''s attention. He looks down at his feet, where he spots little Lele jumping up and down. "Big Baldy! Big Baldy!"

    Admiral Rodriguez drops to his knees to pet her furry head. "What''s up, kiddo?"

    "Um..." Lele says, hesitating for a moment. "When are you going to bring the rest of the Kessu here? I''ve been waiting and waiting, but I still haven''t seen my Aunt Lorrie!"

    Jos�� cocks his head. "What do you mean? We''ve already rescued every Kessu on Tarus II''s surface. Your aunt should already be here, Lele."

    "Nuh-uh! She isn''t!" Lele exclaims, stomping her foot in frustration. "She''s still down there! I know she is!"

    Confused, Jos�� raises his head to look at the ceiling. "Umi? Are there any other Kessu left on Tarus II?"

    "Negative, Admiral," Umi beeps. "I have performed several scans for biological life on the planet''s surface. All 54,362 Kessu that I detected three months ago have been accounted for."

    "But that''s not right!" Lele yells. "My aunt Lorrie isn''t here. I''ve asked everyone, and nobody''s seen her! She has to be down there!"

    As if realizing something awful, Jos��''s eyes darken. "Oh. Um, well... I''m sorry, Lele. If your aunt isn''t here, then... perhaps, during the Kraktol''s first attack, she might have..."

    "No, no, no! Definitely not. My Aunt Lorrie is awesome, remember?" Lele asks. "Big Baldy! I told you all about her. She taught me all kinds of things. She has a bunch of neat gadgets and devices; she''s not like my grandpa, my grandma, or my daddy, either. She''s really smart!"

    Jos�� shakes his head. "Sorry, Lele... but I don''t know what you''re talking about. I''ve never heard of your Aunt Lorrie before."

    "Yeah, you have!" Lele meows. "Remember? It was when you... you... oh. That''s right. You lost your memory..."

    Lele''s ears fall flat. She bows her head to stare at the floor.

    "Mraww... Big Baldy... my aunt can''t be dead. She''s still alive, I know it."

    Jos�� starts to reply, but Umi interrupts him. "With all due respect, Admiral, it is possible the child is correct. My scanners cannot penetrate the planet''s bedrock wherever the Trifrancium deposits interfere, so if we were to assume Crewmember Lele''s relative had, for some reason, traveled underground... I would not be able to detect her biological signature."

    "Oh?" Jos�� grunts. "So you''re saying she might be down there? But why?"

    "Error. I do not have enough data to complete a preliminary assessment," Umi says. "Given the Buzor and Yama''s hostility toward the Kessu, I find it unlikely that Crewmember Lele''s relative would seek refuge there, but I also lack information regarding her personal circumstances."

    "Very true..." Jos�� mutters. He pats Lele''s head gently and smiles. "Err, that must be it, then. I don''t know why, but maybe your aunt hid underground. You know... to escape the Kraktol! That''s probably what happened. I''ll tell everyone to keep their eyes peeled for her and other Kessu during the assault."

    Lele perks up, and flicks her ears. "Okay! I''m sure she''s alive, Big Baldy. My aunt Lorrie is really really smart! She has all sorts of cool stuff that might even surprise you!"

    "Haha. I hope that''s true," Jos�� says, smiling. "If we find her, I''ll invite her aboard. Then you can spend all day learning from her. Won''t that be fun?"

    "Yeah! Yeah! Meow!"

    Jos�� picks up Lele and gives her a piggyback ride as he heads toward the Mess Hall. Despite the kitten''s happy smile, the Admiral''s face grows more placid and tranquil.

    Poor Lele. The chances her aunt is still alive are practically zero. I hope if we uncover the worst it won''t break her little heart...

    Admiral Rodriguez shakes his head, not daring to speak his thoughts aloud.

    No child should have to suffer the horrors of war.

 Chapter 51: Engaging the Enemy

    Twenty four hours later.

    Admiral Rodriguez walks along a catwalk above the shuttle docks. He gazes at the deck below him, where thousands of Kessu and Kraktol move with purpose, most of them donning military gear or grabbing weapons, while others perform last-minute checks on the various transport ships while they prep for launch.

    The Admiral pauses before a vacuum lift, steps inside, and drops to the floor below. After exiting, he walks over to a group of Kraktol, most of them decked out in Survival Suits, Exosuits, or heavy armor.

    "Megla. Soren." Jos�� says, as he nods at his First and Second Officers. "I''ve started the countdown for the missile launch sequences. We''ll start firing missiles at the Emerald Mountains in fourteen minutes and twenty-seven seconds."

    Unlike the other Kraktol present, neither Megla nor Soren wear any armor. Instead, they ready themselves to climb into the nearby Titan mechas. Not the ordinary ones they used before, but the advanced versions created when the Slipstream split apart into four individual mecha; the Colossus battleframes.

    "Both of our teams are ready," Megla says. "I''m dropping with Sapphire''s group. Soren decided to team up with Kilgore. And you?"

    "I''m dropping with Drall, Kisa, and Grundle," Jos�� replies. "You two take care. I''m sure you''ll be just fine inside your automatons."

    Megla grins wickedly. "Haha! Damn right, Admiral. Can''t wait to start blasting some Buzor!"

    Soren nods. "I''ll make sure to reinforce the frontlines. But, erm, Admiral?"

    "Yes?" Jos�� asks.

    "Are you certain you want Drall to take control of one of the Colossi?"

    "If you''re worried about Drall''s piloting skills," Jos�� replies, "Don''t be. I trained him myself."

    Soren hesitates. "Well, it''s not that. It''s more of a... a feeling I have. Erm... it''s probably nothing. Never mind."

    Her odd awkwardness makes Jos�� cock his head questioningly, but he doesn''t follow up. "Well, if that ''feeling'' becomes anything more substantial, I''ll trust your judgment. See you on the ground."

    "Yes. See you on the ground," Soren echoes.

    Jos�� leaves his officers behind and trots over to a pair of gigantic mechs several hundred meters away, standing beside each other. When he arrives, he spots Lord Drall and his daughter, Kisa, gazing up at the forty-foot-tall machines in awe.

    At twice the height of the twenty-foot standalone Titans, the Slipstream-variants tower above the nearby troop transport ships like metallic arbiters of death, each one awaiting their chance to unleash fire and brimstone upon the galaxy. Energy cannons rest in their chests, while kinetic machineguns sit attached to each of their wrists. Unlike ordinary Titans, the Colossi also possess advanced flight modules, allowing them to take off and land without dropship assistance; a result of their origin in the Slipstream''s adaptive mainframe.

    Jos�� waves to get Drall''s attention. "Are you ready?"

    Drall turns to look at the Terran. "Hmm? Yes. Never have I felt as much excitement as I do right now. I hunger for the chance to pilot this mighty Terran machine in battle."

    "That''s fine and all," Jos�� says, nodding in Kisa''s direction. "But what about your daughter? Look, I don''t want to be rude, but... I don''t know if we should bring Kisa along, Lord Drall. The last thing we need is a liability on the battlef-"

    "My daughter must come," Drall interjects, raising his palm. "Kisa is no ordinary Kraktol. She is the Malvik! One way or another, I must awaken her warrior instincts! If Kisa were to stay behind during this crucial mission, she would cast a long shadow over her mother''s name. I cannot in good conscience allow the future leader of my people to rest on the sidelines while her brothers and sisters risk their lives to slaughter these ''heretics,'' as you call them."

    Jos�� rubs his eyes and shakes his head. "Fine. I''m not fond of bringing a poorly trained soldier to the battlefield, though, so I''ll have to at least request that Kisa assume a medical position at the rear. Even you must admit she won''t be much use in carving a path through our enemies."

    "That is acceptable," Drall replies. He turns to his daughter and squeezes her shoulder. "Kisa! Surely, you can do something as simple as dressing the wounds of your brothers or sisters if they suffer any injuries."

    The Malvik lowers her head sheepishly, and her scales flush with embarrassment. "Y-yes, father."

    "Hmph. Don''t fail me," Drall grunts. He nods at Jos�� and coils strength into his legs. "Admiral. I look forward to your performance when we arrive!"

    The second-highest of all Kraktol leaps skyward. He wraps his claws around a gap in the Colossus'' armor, then pulls himself into its open and waiting chest. After tapping a few buttons, he closes the Colossus'' cockpit, sealing its airtight compartment around himself.

    Jos�� smiles at Kisa. "I''m sorry your father insists on you coming, Kisa. I know you don''t want to, but... I think you''ll be fine. Just stay out of the line of fire."

    Kisa nods glumly. "Yes, sir. I''m sorry, Admiral. I''m just so... so useless."

    "That''s not true at all," Jos�� says, as he starts walking toward his Colossus, next to Drall''s. "You may not have found your purpose yet, but that doesn''t mean you don''t have one. Keep your chin up and your eyes peeled. An opportunity is sure to present itself."

    The Admiral also jumps up his Colossus, though he doesn''t reach the same height as his Kraktol comrade. Despite Jos��''s physical superiority to the Kraktol leader, his agility proves somewhat lacking compared to his former body, forcing him to climb the rest of the way. He clambers into the Colossus'' cockpit and seals it shut, leaving Kisa alone.

    "...I hope you are right," Kisa mutters.

    The Malvik turns and walks toward a nearby troop transport, sighing as she readies herself for what will certainly be a violence-filled day.

    .......................................

    Minutes later.

    Umi''s words transmit to every soldier on every transport in every hangar. Her monotone, emotionless voice inspires no emotional reaction beyond the realization that the operation has begun... and now everyone has reached the ''do or die'' point.

    "Countdown complete. Now launching the initial payload of Burrowing Depth Charges. To all troops, the Tarus II planetary incursion will begin shortly."

    Above the tranquil blue skies of Tarus II, a small, seemingly insignificant speck hangs amidst the void. The Bloodbearer, a colossal ship when compared to other Terran vessels, appears positively diminutive when placed against the backdrop of the planet it orbits.

    From its weapon silos, three dozen flashes of light ignite. These specks of luminosity fall toward the planet below, increasing in speed as they gather momentum.

    The first light of dawn warms Tarus II''s surface. Many creatures yawn as they awaken, stretching their claws and paws to rouse themselves for a day of hunting and survival. Not only do predator species rise to their feet, but their prey do as well.

    One particularly early bird perches on a tree branch. It chirps cutely, squeaking out a mating call to try and catch the attention of any nearby females. As it chirps, it cocks its head. It gazes into the sky, where it sees a most peculiar sight; several stars falling toward the planet''s surface. Of the three dozen pinpricks of light, none of them appear particularly bright, yet still, they catch the bird''s attention.

    "Chee-chee?"

    The bird chirps questioningly.

    How odd.

    Since when do the stars above move in such a peculiar way?

    The little fella watches those ''stars'' absentmindedly, not caring one way or another, only waiting for a female to answer his call.

    As the stars fall, the bird chirps once more.

    "Chee!"

    And from the branches nearby, another bird answers his call.

    "Chee!"

    The little bird''s mood perks up as he realizes he has finally met his mate! He flaps his wings to take off, eager to fly over and perform his mating dance; one which will surely entrance the lucky lady into joining his nest.

    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    At that moment, the stars strike a nearby mountainside.

    BOOOOOM.

    A planet-shaking explosion detonates, summoning a terrible earthquake to ravage the nearby region. The bird screeches in alarm and takes to the sky, startled by this completely unexpected occurrence. Scared and frightened, he flees, never in his primitive mind coming close to an understanding of the event that has just transpired.

    Two minutes later, as he flees, the bird''s eyes raise to the sky once more. There, he spots another group of ''stars'' falling toward that same mountain.

    "Chee-chee?!"

    Alarmed, the bird squawks again. While he may not understand exactly what is happening, even in his primitive mind he instinctively knows the stars from earlier must have caused that terrible, explosive sound.

    He flies faster than ever, fleeing for his life from whatever strangeness has started occurring on the mountain. Sadly, before he can make it even half a mile, the second volley of ''stars'' detonates.

    A flash of light ten times brighter than the midday sun instantly engulfs the planet for miles in every direction. The bird cries out in fear as a void of pure white engulfs him. His mind screams in alarm, while his sense of balance falters. No longer certain which way is up or down, he and the other skyborne creatures plummet toward the planet below.

    Before they can even realize that they''ve started falling, a shockwave of pure sonic energy blasts out of the mountain, flinging tens of thousands of tons of rock and dirt skyward. The sonic boom surges across the planet''s surface, flattening the terrain and uprooting any trees in its path. It bursts the eardrums of every creature within ten miles, causing them to momentarily blackout from the pain.

    The bird''s thoughts become blank as unthinkable agony courses through his mind. So awful is his anguish that he doesn''t even feel the impact of crashing against a boulder, where he instantly snaps his neck and departs the mortal realm.

    He, like millions of other animals, monsters, and insects, all perish without a second thought. By the time ten shockwaves finish surging from the mountain, hardly any creatures remain alive. Either their brain capillaries burst, or they suffer heart attacks from the sheer shock of the planet-busting phenomenon.

    A minute later, Tarus II falls eerily silent. Debris from the ruined mountain rains down upon the surface, crushing countless dead bodies into meat paste, but aside from the impacts of rocks against trees and grass, not a soul stirs.

    ...

    Not long after, once the geological activity has ceased, a hundred specks of light drop into Tarus II''s atmosphere. Transport ships travel toward the newly-bored holes in the Emerald Peaks, the troops inside marveling at the flattened hills and the destroyed land surrounding them.

    Five specialized mecha-transport ships carrying two Titans apiece fly alongside the four Colossus mechs. They land at the mouths of various tunnels, deposit their mechanical killing machines, and return to the skies. With essentially limitless hovering fuel at their disposal, they rise to an altitude of five thousand feet to await the mission''s success or failure.

    "Mechanized assault units have made landfall," Umi drones, speaking to every assault trooper via their earpieces. "Prepare for infantry deployment."

    Hundreds of faces assume grim expressions. Male and female, Kraktol and Kessu alike, they lock and load their guns, activate their Thunder Gauntlets, and prepare themselves for combat.

    All one hundred transport ships land in unison. Their fronts drop down to allow their occupants to flood out, following closely behind the Titans and Colossi as the heavily armored machines lead the way.

    "Move quickly, while our enemies are still stunned," Jos�� says, transmitting his voice over the communication network. "It will take them several minutes to regain their bearings."

    Decked out in his all-but-invincible Colossus mecha, Admiral Rodriguez storms into the underground base, turning on his front-facing lights to flood the path ahead with stunning luminosity.

    Rags, one of the many Kessu present, grins excitedly as he chases after the Admiral''s Colossus. He sports a pair of Thunder Gauntlets, as well as a custom-fitted Survival Suit, the same type that Megla wore months before when she first traveled beneath the mountain.

    "Oh, geez! This is so exciting!" Rags yells. "Mreowww! My heart is pounding like crazy!"

    Lele''s father Ruuki runs beside Rags. He grins at the youngster and laughs. "Stick by my side, kid! I''ll protect ya!"

    "Hah! We''ll see who protects who!" Rags jeers. "Don''t forget it was me who saved your tail three months ago!"

    Meanwhile, inside one of the other holes in the mountain, Drall''s Colossus clears a path for the Kraktol and Kessu behind him. Kisa follows from the backlines, keeping her head low as she clutches several advanced medical kits.

    "Follow me!" Drall yells, transmitting his voice through the Colossus''s external speakers. "We must accrue more kills than Admiral Rodriguez. Do not shame our Th��lvik''s name, troops! We have a reputation to uphold!"

    This pattern repeats throughout a dozen other tunnels, all of them delving downward at various angles into the heart of the mountain. Megla leads one group, while Soren leads another. Kilgore, always a unique snowflake, doesn''t bother with a mech-suit, opting instead to rely on his own strength and a basic Survival Suit. Most of the Titan mechs end up piloted by members of the First Group, though Sapphire also finds herself mimicking Kilgore''s approach.

    "Hey, Kilgore!" Sapphire yells. "You might have beaten me in the simulations, but I''ll definitely score more kills than you today!"

    "Feel free to try!" Kilgore replies, smirking confidently. "But the loser must drink a bowl of unfermented Gil-Gil Juice!"

    Sapphire''s scales turn green. "Blech! You''re on! Don''t say I didn''t warn you ahead of time!"

    "Same!"

    It takes several minutes of traveling into the mountain''s depths before the assault forces finally reach their target.

    Admiral Rodriguez''s voice transmits over every frequency. "Bogeys detected! I''ve found some warm bodies up ahead! Looks like a half-dozen orcs, a small group of goblins, and a handful of Disperra. They''re all knocked out cold. Kill them before they awaken!"

    "I''ve spotted multiple hostiles!" Megla says, her voice transmitting right after the Admiral''s. "They''re awake, but disoriented; stumbling around in a daze. You heard the Admiral! No mercy!"

    A series of battlecries erupts among the Kraktol and Kessu. Down at the end of the five-mile-deep tunnels, dozens of blind and deaf monsters stumble to the left and right, hazily touching the walls to feel their way around. Blood drips from their eyes, ears, and nostrils. They moan incoherently while trying to shake off the terrible disorientation plaguing their minds. Even as they stumble through a sea of confusion, faint sensations transmit through their feet, caused by the arrival of a horde of enemies. Some of the more quick-witted monsters, such as a duo of furred Kobolds, turn their heads toward the origin of these tremors. Too bad for them, they react too sluggishly to prevent their deaths.

    Admiral Rodriguez''s Colossus brings its foot down like a meteor from the heavens. He crushes a pair of orcs underfoot, instantly transforming their bodies into meat-slush. With each running step, he plows through more and more of the miniature monsters, killing them without firing a single bullet. However, his goal is not to murder these low-level mooks, but to seek out his demonic enemies, the Shades. After the Admiral passes through, the rest of his troops follow up. They leap at their monstrous enemies without mercy, slapping their heads off their necks, or firing holes through their abdomens.

    One by one, many orcs and goblins, the weakest grunts of this underground empire, perish without getting so much as a chance to fight back. With the Admiral leading the charge, none of his soldiers even need to watch out for the fearsome Trolls, as he deliberately goes out of his way to kill them himself.

    "Wow!" One Kraktol soldier yells. "This is easy!"

    "Don''t jinx us," A nearby Kessu replies. "Mraww! The Great Precursor said it would get harder once we reached the enemies who didn''t get hurt by his bombs."

    "Hah! How difficult could this mission possibly become?" The Kraktol laughs. "With my Survival Suit, I feel invincible!"

    "Psh, it''s your funeral, scalie!"

    Further and further into the mountain they go. Before long, the troopers start encountering actual resistance. At the ten-mile-depth, Disperra appear. The arachnids skitter along the ceiling and screech angrily, telepathically transmitting their rage into the minds of their attackers.

    [Filthy betrayers! How dare the Kraktol turn against us?! Your people will pay for this treachery in blood!]

    All throughout the underground passages, the walls begin exploding outward as slumbering and half-buried Disperra break free of their burrows to charge at the intruders.

    Jos�� slows his forward momentum and begins taking his time. He aims the Colossus''s weapons at the biggest clusters of enemies and unloads hundreds of rounds into their ranks, ripping them apart due to the sheer number of bullets passing through their bodies. Each round of burst-fire splatters copious amounts of green blood across the walls, ending the lives of Disperra and monsters alike.

    Finally, the Admiral comes to a complete stop. As more and more enemies start pouring out of side corridors into the central tunnels, the Admiral allows his troops to spill around him and face the enemies head-on.

    "We''ve just about reached the end of the main tunnel," Jos�� says. "Looks like the caves will become a lot narrower after this. I''ll depart my Colossus momentarily. Drall? Megla? Soren? How are you three doing?"

    It takes a moment for the others to answer Jos��''s inquiry.

    "The tunnel has started to narrow on my side, too," Soren replies. "I''m in the same situation as you, Admiral. The Titans can still proceed, but not the Colossi."

    "We expected as much," Drall says, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "Bah! At least I got to play with this fun toy! I''ll join my troops on the ground soon!"

    Jos�� waits for confirmation from everyone, then reaches for his ejection controls. At that moment, several blips appear on his radar. The Admiral glances in the direction indicated, only to shudder in revulsion.

    "Oh, Ramma, guide me! Are those... giant centipedes? I think I''m going to be sick! Gods, how can such horrific monstrosities exist in the same galaxy as me?!"

    The Admiral watches in disgust as thirty-foot-long insects skitter out of a side tunnel, their snake-like bodies skittering along on more than a hundred individual legs. The creatures rear up and lunge at Jos��''s troops, all of whom scatter to avoid their attacks.

    Instead of departing the Colossus, Jos�� grabs the controls and rotates his weapons to face these new threats.

    "You know what? Fuck demons, and fuck giant bugs. Divine Emperor forgive me, but I cannot go on living knowing such awful vermin breathe this world''s air."

    BRRRT! BRRRRT! BRRRRT!

    Jos�� unloads thousands of bullets upon the centipedes'' backs, only to gasp in shock when most of the projectiles glance off their armored carapaces. As if constructed from wrought iron, the giant insects completely ignore Jos��''s bombardment to chase after his comrades.

    The Terran''s eyes flash with anger. "Oh, you think you''ve stumped me? Not a chance."

    The Admiral taps a button on his control-pad. Two seconds later, the machineguns mounted on his Colossi''s wrists shift and change shape, transforming into single-shot heavy cannons.

    "Eat lead, you nasty bugs."

    Thoomph! Thoomph!

    Firing from the backline, Jos�� finally pierces the centipedes'' armor. His cannon shells rip through their bodies and shred their innards, causing them to screech and roll around in agony.

    The Terran grits his teeth as, again and again, he blasts the bugs to smithereens.

    Even amidst the furor of battle, Jos�� chuckles in spite of himself.

    "Haha. If only Nick were here. The only person who hated bugs more than me was ol'' Nicky-boy."

    The Terran''s smile fades, leaving him with an empty gaze.

    "I miss you, Nick. Miss you lots."

    The Terran continues firing, assisting his allies until they manage to clear the hallway of enemies. After he finishes, Jos�� sighs.

    "...We''ve made it through through the initial strike. Now for the hard part. Yama... today will be the last day you''ll walk among the living."

 Chapter 52: Jos茅s Rampage

    After eliminating the giant centipedes, Admiral Rodriguez jumps out of his Colossus. He plummets forty feet to the ground below, then lands in a roll before jumping up to assume a defensive stance. The Terran holds out his hand while transmitting a mental command to the Colossus. A small bay opens on its chest, and with a quick hissing of air, the Colossus shoots out a pair of energy pistols.

    Without looking, the Admiral snatches the guns out of midair and starts running toward the frontlines. He spares a brief glance at the weapons'' charge levels, then focuses his mind on the scene of carnage taking place before him.

    One hundred and thirteen Kraktol work alongside two hundred and twelve Kessu. The sizable attack force, just one of several diving into the underground caverns around the Emerald Peaks, works together exactly like they''ve practiced over the past several months. Like a well-oiled killing machine, the front-facing Kraktol drop to their knees periodically to allow their backline comrades to gun down enemies as needed, then they jump up and charge forward, resuming their attack.

    Lele''s father, Ruuki, fights among the Admiral''s platoon. Equipped with his Thunder Gauntlets, he roars like a tiger while splattering the bodies of his foes as if they were made of tofu. A miniaturized Survival Suit coats his body with an energy barrier, protecting him from even the strongest of the Buzor and demonic monsters.

    "Up ahead!" A random Kraktol warrior shouts. "More Buzor! By the Thulvik... it looks like even the Rocharocks have shown their faces!"

    The Admiral, still running toward the frontlines, pauses mid-gallop to shiver in disgust as three-meter-tall insects come pouring out of a side tunnel. "Divine Emperor! Augh, are those cockroaches?! Disgusting! Why did I have to wake up in such an awful, wretched future?!"

    Jos�� Rodriguez, clearly not a fan of huge, nasty bugs, forces himself to soldier forward. His face contorts into all sorts of hilarious expressions as he dual-wields his pistols, blasting any roaches that get in his way.

    "Gods! This is the worst! Once I kill Yama, I am never going to go anywhere near these Buzor for the rest of my life!"

    The Admiral''s accuracy, boosted significantly by his cybernetic enhancements, makes him far more lethal than any three Kraktol combined. Every shot fired finds its mark as both of his eyes swivel independently of each other, automatically guiding his pistols to their marks.

    Blat! Blat! Blat!

    Limbs rip from bodies. Holes erupt in the cockroaches'' carapaces. Several head vanish.

    Astoundingly, even with their heads gone, many of the cockroaches continue fighting. Their bodies move and attack as if on autopilot, dumbly rushing at the nearest vibration-causing entity, sometimes even their own kind.

    The Admiral clicks his tongue. He keeps firing shot after shot, slaughtering enemies like a reaper from Hell.

    Minutes pass.

    The firefight intensifies. More types of Buzor begin to emerge, diversifying their forces in a seemingly never-ending flood of bugs. Not only spiders, cockroaches, and centipedes, but also an incredible number of termites and wasps join the fray.

    Sapphire, not far from the Admiral, stays by his side protectively. She acts as a backline sniper, picking off the deadliest enemies before they can kill her friends. Even so, eventually, one Kraktol suffers a serious injury as a humongous wasp divebombs him and plunges its stinger into his back, tearing through his Survival Suit''s barrier with frightening ease. Half a gallon of poison floods into his body, paralyzing him so he can''t scream. Jos�� doesn''t miss this moment, however, and quickly kills the buzzing attacker.

    "We need a medic!" The Admiral shouts. "Kessu, get on it!"

    The Kraktol warrior shivers and trembles as an acid-like substance rapidly spread throughout his veins. Those trembles turn into convulsions. By the time three Kessu medics reach him, his heart beats one last time. He stops trembling and freezes in place, his eyes stuck open for the rest of eternity.

    "Oh no!" The nearest Kessu cries. "Q-quick, get me some anti-venom! Ah! He''s not moving! What do we do?"

    Jos��, a few dozen feet away, glances at the Kraktol. Umi''s algorithms scan his corpse in an instant, giving the Admiral the information he needs.

    "Leave him. He''s dead," Jos�� says, his voice monotone. "When we return, we''ll pick him up and any others who''ve fallen. For now, return to the backline, where it''s safe!"

    "Y-yes, Great Precursor..." The Kessu mumbles.

    All three of them recoil and slink away, dodging the fallen bodies of countless Buzor as they make their way back to the safety of the rearguard.

    Jos�� continues unloading plasma bullets into the Buzor''s ranks. His eyes harden in anger, despite his attempts to control himself.

    One Kraktol dead. I suppose we''re lucky we''ve only lost one soldier so far, but still... I never like losing a comrade, especially when I''m assuming a leader role. Feels like I killed him myself.

    "Megla!" Jos�� barks, transmitting his voice to her electronically. "Casualty report!"

    "We have a few injured on my side," Megla replies, "but they''re receiving treatment. No dead, not yet, anyway. These Buzor are stronger than we expected! Some of them are able to break past the Survival Suit barriers!"

    "Good. Attention, all platoon leaders! Do we have any dead among any groups?"

    Every officer reports back, making Jos��''s expression turn unpleasant.

    Great. So it''s only my group that lost someone. Fuck! I''ve seen so many men die, but it''s different when they''re cute little crocodiles I trained myself. I can''t let any others fall here today!

    "I''m taking point!" Jos�� says, as he holsters both his guns and gestures to a nearby Kraktol. "Give me your rifle. Return to the backline to get a new weapon."

    The Kraktol blinks in surprise. "Admiral? With all due respect, we can''t risk your life! Graugh! You''re too important-"

    "I''m in charge, and I''m taking point. That''s final!" Jos�� snaps. He grabs the Kraktol''s rifle, and without another word, starts stomping forward with a purpose.

    Ignoring the Kraktol warrior''s protests, Jos�� marches fearlessly into the thick of battle. All around him, the cries of bloodlust on both sides intensifies. He uses his high-powered Sonic Rifle to pierce even the thickest Rocharock carapace, striking his enemies with explosive sound-waves that rupture their innards and leave them keeling over while vomiting acrid green blood.

    As Jos�� moves deeper into his enemy''s midst, a warning signal tingles in the back of his brain. Not created by his implants or any other artificial device installed into his body, this feeling comes purely from several millennia of life-and-death combat fought against the harshest, meanest, baddest soldiers Terrankind once had to offer. Jos��''s killer instincts, finely honed over that seemingly endless period, ring in his ear as clearly as any supper bell.

    It seems something big is about to happen, Jos�� thinks. Let''s see if Umi successfully repaired all of my former body''s combat implants.

    Jos�� pauses for a split-second. He inhales deeply, closes his eyes, and sends an electrical signal into his brain. This signal instantly transmits throughout his entire body to activate countless nanites swimming within his bloodstream.

    Like magic, a silvery, metallic sheen spreads across Jos��''s skin. His Dermal Armor, previously ruined when Umi had to forcefully extract its control module during his life-and-death surgery, once again silently comes to life, shrouding his figure in a dense, nearly impenetrable metal shell.

    At that moment, the ringing sense of danger disappears from Jos��''s mind. He opens his eyes just in time to see a giant centipede lunging at him, its carnivorous mandibles aiming to bite him in half.

    "Admiral!" Sapphire cries, as she gazes in horror at the motionless human.

    Jos�� smiles.

    I almost forgot how amazing dermal armor is.

    TINK!

    As if biting onto a metallic statue, the centipede chomps onto Jos�� with all its strength, only for both of its mandibles to awkwardly bend outward, then snap, flying off in opposite directions.

    [Aaaargh!] The centipede shrieks, its words transmitting directly into Jos��''s brain. [Hurts hurts hurts hurts!!]

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    "Aww, you poor thing," The Admiral replies, as he drops his rifle and lunges his hands out to grab the blood-covered spots where the mandibles broke. "If you''re hungry, let me feed you some pain."

    The Admiral''s iron-covered fingers grab hold of the centipede''s maw. Its inner mouth wriggles and writhes, while the huge bug quickly starts to back away, using all of its legs to try and break free of the Admiral''s vice-grip.

    Jos��''s eyes flash with insight. He uses his superhuman strength, capable of tearing through the hull of an empire-class battleship, and forcibly spreads his arms out. The centipede''s fleshy head offers no resistance as the Admiral splits it open like a pumpkin. Its brains, what little there are, spill out of the gap in its head as its body stops moving. Without any fanfare, the Admiral drops his prey and leaves it to flop on the ground.

    "Mmm. Feels good to be back in my prime..." Jos�� murmurs, flexing his biceps.

    ...

    Thirty minutes pass.

    Jos��, now a walking tank, shrugs off anything the Buzor throw at him. Orcs join the fight, often trying to crush the Admiral''s skull with metal clubs. They fail, and Jos�� retorts with simple punches and kicks, shattering their bones without much fanfare.

    After plenty of time spent slaughtering his enemies, the Admiral checks once again, smiling when he sees there aren''t any other casualties among his soldiers.

    "I knew this was the right move. Never doubt your instincts, Jojo-boy. That''s what Nick would say."

    The Admiral resumes fighting. As he does, an audio call pings him over his comms.

    "Admiral," Megla says, "I''ve just joined up with Soren and Drall''s groups. We ran into Kilgore''s group, too, so, since he''s with you, that must mean we''ve all converged on the main tunnel system."

    "Good, good," Jos�� replies, casually chatting while ripping the Buzor apart. "Have you seen any Shades yet? Yama?"

    "No..." Megla replies, a hint of worry in her voice. "Not at all. We''ve kept our eyes peeled for that ''demonic miasma'' you mentioned, but so far, we don''t have any reason to think the initial missile volleys hurt or killed any of Yama''s servants, let alone the Shadow Emperor himself. Kyargh! Mysterious!"

    Jos��''s expression turns grim. "There''s no mystery here. I already suspected Yama may have left. If he''s not down here, then our trip will have wasted lives in vain."

    "Perhaps..." Megla replies. "However, I''m not so certain. Admiral, don''t you think there are many more Buzor down here than we anticipated? There''s no way Tarus II is housing some random, isolated colony. Think, too, of the fact that we''ve already encountered a half-dozen species all working together. I can''t remember the last time I saw Mitteras and Wuspa in the same room. They hate each other!"

    The Admiral frowns. Wuspa? Mitteras?

    Umi replies via his telepathic link. [Admiral. The Wuspa are roughly equivalent to wasps, while the Mitteras are essentially giant termites.]

    ...Right.

    Jos�� rolls his eyes. "I don''t know much about the Buzor and their relationships, so if you think something fishy''s going on down here, then we''ll just keep pushing forward. I haven''t a clue what these overgrown pests are building under Tarus II''s bedrock, but if they''re hiding something, by goddamn, we''ll find it."

    "Kyargh! It is as you say, Admiral," Megla responds.

    The line goes silent as Megla cuts it off at her end. Having never stopped his onslaught for even a second, Jos�� continues ripping and tearing his way through the enemy hordes, focusing down the most dangerous enemies that Umi can identify.

    Even more time passes. Soon, the Admiral spots Kilgore wading through a horde of termites, with Lord Drall and Megla not far away. The Admiral pauses for half a breath to double check his surroundings, noting that the tunnels ahead appear to be widening, allowing more and more of his comrades to fight beside each other, but also for more of the Buzor and monsters to fit as well.

    "Admiral," Soren says, speaking from a Titan''s cockpit. "I''ve detected a pair of trolls heading this way."

    "I''m on it," Jos�� replies. A red dot appears in his vision, placed there by Umi to guide him through the hordes of giant bugs. The Admiral coils strength into his legs, then pounces skyward, leaping over the writhing throng of enemies to hurtle toward two lumbering giants.

    "Bad luck for you!" Jos�� laughs, as he falls toward the first giant. "Your pitiful lives end here!"

    Suddenly, for the second time since his arrival, a warning sensation springs to life in the back of Jos��''s mind. Like a sixth sense attuned to danger, his heart skips a beat as he seemingly senses a multitude of dangerous presences locking onto his position.

    What? Who?! Is it Yama?!

    At that moment, a hail of gunfire erupts from the Buzor''s battle lines. The Admiral finds himself caught offguard as bursts of electricity and sonar pulses smash against him mid-fall, screwing up his flight path and sending him careening into a horde of screeching termites.

    Thump!!

    The Admiral crashes face-first into his enemies, killing two of them in the impact, but leaving plenty of others alive to pounce on him.

    "Aaargh!" Jos�� cries. He quickly starts fighting back, tearing apart heads and bodies without restraint, but bursts of pain continuously flare up in his chest and groin, where enemy gunfire struck him. "Shit! You fucking sneaky bastards!"

    During the entire mission, not once have the Buzor used anything but their bodies and whatever weapons nature evolved for them. Right after Jos�� and his platoons grew used to possessing a supreme edge in firepower, the Buzor launched a sneak attack, catching the Admiral unawares.

    As if planned from the very beginning, the entire frontline of Buzor starts pulling back, allowing a second wave to rush forward. These new Buzor, armed with strange but powerful ranged weapons, quickly turn the tides against the invading forces.

    [Inferior Mallali! Traitorous Rodaks! You have fallen for our trap!] The Buzor cry.

    A hail of gunfire falls upon the frontline Kraktol, making many of them shriek in pain. Their survival suits, almost indestructible in melee combat, barely put up any resistance against the Buzor''s high-tech weapons.

    "Fall back!" Soren calls, as she moves her Titan to the front. "Get behind me! Where''s the Admiral?!"

    She and the other nine Titan pilots quickly take point, turning their armored mecha into makeshift walls of steel to protect the backlines. However, with such a gigantic hallway, they can''t effectively shield the entire invasion force, leaving some to scream one last time before their voices cut off forever.

    Admiral Rodriguez leaps to his feet. The distant cries of dying Kraktol and Kessu boil his blood, making him explode with rage. "Umi! Activate my Psionic Enhancer! Level one, now!"

    Umi replies immediately. "I cannot do that, Admiral. When I revived you, you lost access to Ramma''s powers. You no longer possess any psionic abilities."

    The Admiral pauses mid-dash, his body stiffening as if someone just dumped a bucket of ice water on him. Having used his psionic abilities in countless heated battles, he hasn''t yet grown used to no longer possessing them.

    "F-fuck. Fuck! I... never mind! I''ll just- I''ll do something else, then!"

    The Admiral forces himself not to look in the direction of his dying troops. Instead, he grabs hold of a wrist-mounted gadget on his left arm and keys in five numbers. Then, he raises his limb protectively while the wrist-device summons a curved force-field, thrice his body''s width and a little more than twice his height.

    This projected force-field, with its glowing blue appearance, catches the attention of several Buzor. They unload a rain of bullets upon him, all of which fizzle out upon coming into contact with the mobile defense platform.

    The two trolls, still unhurt from Jos�� whiffing his earlier attack, rush the Terran during his moment of preparation. He retorts by ignoring them and activating a teleportation module embedded inside his cerebral cortex.

    Foop!

    The Admiral appears amidst a dense cluster of gun-wielding termites. His optical sensors lock onto their weapons, allowing him to snap a hundred images for Umi''s databases. He follows-up by charging them while screaming like a madman, using his body like a living weapon.

    Over and over, Jos�� teleports to the densest clusters of enemies, slaughtering them while using his force-field to protect himself from their gunfire. Far more durable than his survival suit, the projected barrier doesn''t shield his backside, but he takes care not to expose his flank to gunfire. Smartly, Jos�� uses the energized aegis as a weapon by occasionally teleporting into the air and falling on top of his enemies, splattering them into meat-paste beneath his barrier.

    "Die! Die, you goddamned bugs!" Jos�� roars. "Don''t you dare fuck with this Terran!"

    ...

    Not far away, at the backlines of Jos��''s army, dozens of medics rush from one injured person to another. The Kessu, mostly ignorant of technology, fumble awkwardly with various medical tools as they try to mend the worst wounds among the fallen. However, unlike the Kessu, one specific Kraktol makes her way through the injured, tending to them with a steady hand.

    Kisa, the Malvik, stabs a coagulation stimulator into Megla''s neck. Jos��''s First Officer moans in pain, having taken a bolt of energized plasma to her gut. "Ohh... it burns..."

    "Don''t worry!" Kisa says, tensing her jaw. "I''ve got you! I won''t let anyone die!"

    She quickly presses a medical patch against Megla''s wound, then darts over to another injured Kraktol, followed by a pair of Kessu. Like a bolt of lightning hellbent on preventing any deaths, Kisa heals the wounded with ten times the efficiency of the assigned Kessu doctors. At one point, she stops for a moment when she finds herself standing before Lord Drall.

    "F-father? You''re hurt too?"

    Lord Drall clutches a gaping wound on his right arm. "Graugh! It''s just a flesh wound. Took off a chunk of my muscle, but it isn''t life threatening."

    "That doesn''t matter. Here, let me tend to it."

    Drall pulls his hand away, causing a river of blood to spew forth. Despite Kisa''s previous squeamishness around fighting and death, Lord Drall finds himself astonished when his daughter doesn''t bat an eye at his mangled and bloody limb.

    "Graugh. Kisa, are you faring well? I did not know you were so adept in the ways of medicine."

    The Malvik presses a medical patch onto Drall''s arm, sealing the wound and flooding it with tissue restoration nanites. "I... I am fine, father. This is all I can do, so I have to do it well. After all, I''m useless otherwise."

    She turns to another nearby Kraktol, someone gurgling blood while he clutches a shallow wound on his throat. As she gets to work mending her injured brother''s wound, Lord Drall watches in fascination.

    "...I see. All this time, I thought... never mind. Perhaps it is better this way. Perhaps I was too strict on you. I''ve always tried to mold you into your mother''s image, but in the end, this might be your calling."

    Kisa finishes with her brother''s throat, then turns to Lord Drall. "Father?"

    Lord Drall smiles. "I don''t recall the last time I said this to you, Kisa, but... you''re doing a good job. Keep making me proud, daughter. You''re saving many lives here. That is an accomplishment worth praising."

    Kisa halts in place, astonished by her father''s words. Before she can ask if he''s only messing with her, Lord Drall rises to his feet. He squeezes Kisa''s shoulder, smiles, and heads back to the frontlines.

    The Malvik gazes at his back for a few moments, then shakes her head and returns to work.

    He must have been joking. Neither mother nor father have ever praised me in all my life. They''ve always hated me. How could he possibly think anything good about such a worthless daughter?

    As Kisa starts dressing another patient''s wounds, her claws tremble. A smile, unbidden, spreads across her face.

    Is this how it feels... to experience a father''s love?

    ...I like it. I like it a lot.

    Maybe if I work hard, father will praise me more!

    Nodding excitedly, Kisa resumes work with a feverish passion, her eyes burning with energy.

    I''ll save everyone! Nobody will die, not while Kisa''s on the job!

    ...

    Meanwhile, the battle against the Buzor intensifies. As Admiral Rodriguez continues rampaging, his recovered soldiers return to the frontlines, this time assuming more cautionary defensive formations. Having learned not to underestimate their opponents, they deploy one-way forcefields, allowing them to shoot through the barriers where their enemies cannot.

    "Let''s kill these creepy-crawlies!" Lord Drall shouts. "Show them the power of the Kraktol Empire!"

 Chapter 53: Lord Dralls Plot

    Lord Drall charges into battle with a regenerative patch quickly easing the pain on his arm. The stinging sensation makes him wince, but it also empowers his anger, doubling his strength!

    "Graugh! You Buzor have long formed a tepid alliance with the Kraktol, but compared to your scheming ways, I''d much rather have a Terran on my side!"

    Drall''s words project outward, enraging the Buzor while also making the many younger Kraktol look up to their leader with pride.

    Gorlax Stormfang, former officer under Commander Orgon, pumps his fist into the air. "That''s right! We Kraktol are honorable conquerors, not mountain-dwelling, underground-burrowing cretins who live in the darkness! Not like you Buzor!"

    "Bring out your leader if you dare!" Kilgore shouts. "I''ll battle him one-on-one! Let us settle this like true warriors!"

    A dozen elite Mitteras soldiers tremble with anger. These termite-like bugs sport thicker carapaces than the ordinary soldiers around them. They level their weapons at Gorlax and unload a barrage of sonic pulses.

    [Hah! Honor! You Kraktol are little more than gutless backstabbing swamp-dwellers! Our queen is ten times the leader your so-called Th��lvik will ever be!]

    "Those are quite the fierce words for a bunch of dead Buzor walking!" Drall roars. He lunges forward, ducks low, and skitters across the ground on all fours like a gecko. His incredible speed, easily greater than Kilgore and any other Kraktol, allows him to dart into melee range before the Mitteras can react.

    [You...!!]

    The Mitteras, each possessing enough strength to lift ten times their body weight, might pose a threat to a weaker Kraktol, but against the figurehead of the Kraktol military, they stand no chance.

    Lord Drall lashes out with his claws. Using his hands and feet in tandem, he yanks the pincer-arms off the nearest Mitteras, then follows up with a finger-stab to the giant bug''s thorax. He digs into the creature''s plated exoshell, then forcibly rips it open, causing its guts to spill out. The Mitteras quickly bites at Drall''s exposed neck, intending to behead him, but Drall deliberately falls flat on his stomach and scoots forward, diving underneath the termite while its movements lag.

    The other eleven elite warriors recoil from Lord Drall, putting distance between themselves and their slithering predator. Too bad, with all their attention focused on one Kraktol, they fail to notice Gorlax Stormfang and Kilgore''s follow-up feeding frenzy.

    Gorlax charges the left group of five Mitteras, while Kilgore aims for the right group. Both of them, though much weaker than Drall physically, possess decades of combat experience. They work together, sowing disharmony and preventing the Mitteras from firing their weapons without hitting each other.

    In less than a minute, the group of three slaughters a dozen elites Mitteras without suffering a single wound, making them one of the most efficient killing groups on the battlefield, sans Admiral Rodriguez and the ten Titan-suit pilots.

    "To me!" Drall shouts, as he stomps the last elite soldier''s head into mush. "Come, Gorlax! Kilgore! Individually, we are strong, but together, we are unstoppable!"

    "Hurgh! It is as you say!" Kilgore growls.

    The three Kraktol elites join claws. They sweep across the battlefield, pouncing upon the flying Wuspa by ambushing them from below, slaying the weaker, ordinary Mitteras soldiers without issue, and crushing the Rocharocks with overwhelming force.

    Thirty minutes pass. Then, an hour.

    After a long, uninterrupted killing spree, the three of them momentarily retreat to catch their breath. Covered in green, yellow, and red fluids, they look and smell like death. They breathe heavily, chuffing to try and calm their racing hearts.

    "Good fighting out there..." Drall says, aiming his praise at Kilgore. "But I should expect no less from a Kraktol of your caliber. You are a soldier loyal only to the Kraktol Empire."

    Kilgore, gasping heavily, nods. "Hurgh... yes, Lord Drall. You know my heart well."

    Drall turns his gaze on Gorlax. "And you, little brother. You knew better than to follow Orgon the Betrayer to an early grave. That must mean that you, too, have made your allegiances clear."

    Gorlax nods slowly. "Yes, Lord Drall. You know well I would never betray the Th��lvik."

    "Of course. Of course..." Lord Drall replies, repeating both words for emphasis. "Heh. However, I must confess, in recent months, I have not found the same to be true of a certain subset of my warriors; the ones who came with us aboard the Red-Tongue."

    Kilgore and Gorlax both fall silent. The two of them eye each other for a moment before returning their gazes to Drall.

    "...Indeed, Lord Drall," Kilgore replies, his tone slow and deliberate. "Hurgh. I have noticed a few of my brethren whose allegiances may have... wavered."

    "Mmm. No doubt, due to the Terran''s excellent training," Drall replies, his predatory gaze fixated on his half-Algaru nephew. "Joining such a formidable warrior, one who also possesses a veritable fleet of warships... would such a chance ever present itself twice? Surely, some of the weaker-minded among my crew might have faltered in their love for their Th��lvik."

    "Not I..." Kilgore says. "But others? You might be right."

    "Have any names caught your attention?" Drall asks, while casually looking around. He observes the Buzor''s battle-lines faltering, while his allied forces push forward.

    "A few, perhaps." Kilgore nods. "Some of your sons. Some of your daughters."

    "I see. And might one of them be... Sapphire?"

    Kilgore shuffles his feet. "Hurgh. You know as well as I that she has expressed a sort of childish infatuation for the Terran Admiral. I could not say if her loyalty has shifted to him, or if her thoughts of mating will quickly fade once he leaves her sight."

    Slowly, Drall rubs his under-jaw.

    "You seem to be holding back, Kilgore. Are you absolutely certain that your convictions have not wavered? With your bloodline and pedigree, a chance to serve the next Th��lvik as her royal guard will surely present itself. Graugh! Turning your nose up now would allow you an opportunity to become a disposable puppet for the Terran. Do you truly value his teachings, when you already conquered his trials with such ease?"

    "I harbor no such loyalty to the Terran," Kilgore replies, straightening his posture. "It is just... Lord Drall. I thought we were to make an ally of Admiral Rodriguez? I do not know if you are planning something which would... offend the Th��lvik. We do not want another embarrassing repeat of Orgon the Betrayer to tarnish our people''s name."

    At the mention of Orgon, Gorlax Stormfang''s scales lose some of their color. However, he keeps his mouth shut and doesn''t interject, opting only to listen silently to Drall''s words.

    "Graugh. I see," Drall growls. "So that is the reason for your hesitation. Worry not. Befriending the Terran is one of many missions the Th��lvik gave me. Do you believe our leader would prefer to capture the Terran in a shaky alliance, or to eliminate him and take his technology for ourselves? I think the question goes without saying."

    Gorlax summons enough courage to speak. "Lord Drall, with all due respect... if this has been your plan all along, why did you not say anything to the crew? Today''s meeting is the first time I''ve heard of any such deception."

    "Fool..." Drall mutters. "Do rocks rattle about inside your skull? The Terran''s synthmind originates from the Fiftieth Era. Any words we spoke aboard his vessel, and possibly even ours, would have been monitored. However, down here, the synthmind''s spying capabilities are far more tenuous. If we are to turn against the Admiral... we have only a limited window of opportunity. Otherwise, we must stick to the Th��lvik''s original plan."

    Kilgore nods. "...I understand. Hurgh. I bear no ill-will toward the Terran. However, I swore a blood-oath in the name of my ancestors to always follow the Th��lvik. I will not go against her wishes. Since you speak for her, I can only trust that your words are the truth."

    Gorlax nods quickly. "Yes. Graugh! I nearly failed my Th��lvik once. I shall not do so again. Whatever you ask of me, I will follow your commands to my dying breath."

    Drall smiles, exposing his teeth. His eyes narrow to slits as he gazes at his two confirmed accomplices.

    "Good. If you break those oaths, the Kraktol ancestors will curse you from their graves. They shall bar you from ever entering the Forbidden Swamp, and your souls shall rot for all eternity."

    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    After a few seconds, Drall''s shoulders relax. "Alright. We will split up now. Inquire among the soldiers. Find out who among us still supports our cause. If I give the signal, I expect enough warriors to follow my- hm?"

    Drall pauses mid-sentence. He glances behind Kilgore, where a short but muscular Kraktol comes running up behind him.

    "Lord Drall!" The Kraktol says, while holding up a weapon in his claws. "Graugh! I think you should take a look at this! It is a weapon I recovered from the Buzor!"

    Drall, Kilgore, and Gorlax all share a quick glance with one another, then put their conversation on hold. They turn to face the newcomer, while Drall smiles politely and folds his claws behind his back.

    "The Buzor''s weapons. Yes, hmm. What about them, Grundle?"

    Grundle, formerly the weakest of all Drall''s soldiers, now stands firmly in the center of their power rankings, having bulked up over the past few months. After following Admiral Rodriguez''s directions, no matter how hellish, his body appears to have taken on a somewhat bronzed tone, making him look stronger than others within his weight class.

    "I spoke with a few other Kraktol," Grundle hurriedly explains. "The Buzor- we''ve never seen them use weapons in the past. Isn''t that right?"

    Drall nods. "Yes. Go on."

    "Well, after inspecting the weapons, I noticed that they had a unique shape. Look at the gun''s grip! It''s much bigger than any weapon we''ve seen, most likely to allow the Buzor to grip it firmly. And the trigger, it''s a different mechanism than we''ve seen before... but doesn''t the weapon''s overall design resemble those the Mallali use?"

    A flicker of recognition appears in Drall''s eyes. His formerly confident smile gives way to a strange look of foreboding.

    "A Mallali-design? Here, let me take a look."

    "Yes, Lord Drall."

    Grundle obediently hands the weapon to Drall, who proceeds to spend twenty seconds scrutinizing its barrel, its energy cylinder, and its sonic condensation matrix.

    "...Yes. This certainly resembles the carbines many Mallali use. Kilgore, Gorlax, what do you make of it?"

    "I agree," Kilgore replies. "Surely, that must mean the Mallali have been supplying the Buzor in secret."

    "Not necessarily," Gorlax interjects. "These weapons might be stolen. Perhaps the Buzor have conducted secret raids on Mallali weapon stockpiles."

    "Yes, perhaps," Drall adds, "but aren''t you forgetting something? The Buzor are stupid and primitive. They alone could never refashion weapons en-masse to fit their body requirements. The Mitteras, for example... not only are they uneducated in the ways of technology, but their limbs and mandibles are far too clunky to manipulate complex machines, such as those needed to mass-reconfigure so many weapons."

    "The Disperra might be able to pull it off..." Kilgore mutters, as he rubs his jaw. "But personally, I believe the Mallali must be supplying the Buzor to further some goal. Perhaps they''ve grown tired of occupying the Core Worlds, and so, they wish to spread to the Outer Rim. We Rodaks will surely oppose them, so they might have armed the Buzor to act as scapegoats."

    "Whatever the answer," Drall says, "we won''t likely guess it here. Let us keep this discovery between ourselves. Grundle, you did the right thing by bringing this matter to my attention. Speak no more of it to anyone outside our little circle."

    Grundle''s scales lose some of their color. "L-Lord Drall? What about Admiral Rodriguez? Shouldn''t we tell him, too?"

    Lord Drall''s eyes flash with a killing light. "Graugh. You will speak of this to no one, understand?"

    Grundle turns pale. As Drall, Kilgore, and Gorlax''s gazes all fall upon him, he bows meekly.

    "Y-yes, Lord Drall. I, err, understand."

    Without another word, Grundle slinks away, leaving the former three by themselves.

    "Keep an eye on that one," Drall growls. "I don''t like his shifty, lackadaisical attitude. If news of these weapons leaks, we should assume it was he who spoke glibly."

    "Grundle mentioned that his comrades had noticed the oddities of the Buzor''s weapons," Gorlax posits. "Others are sure to draw similar conclusions."

    "True, but even so... I do not trust our little ''friend,''" Drall says. "I think he might have caught a strain of ''Terranitis.'' He clings to the Admiral like a Dakkit pup suckling its mother."

    Kilgore nods. "The Admiral raised him to greatness. Even I would waver if my life situation improved so rapidly. Grundle now walks as a proud warrior of the Kraktol, when before he was little more than a mechanic for our ship. Any others in a similar situation may just switch their allegiances."

    "That is what I fear most," Drall replies, his tone grave. "Now, go. Spread out and find others amenable to our cause. Keep your inquiries subtle. We''ll meet later to discuss our strategy."

    "Yes, Lord Drall," Kilgore and Gorlax reply in unison.

    Both of them leave, returning to the frontlines once more. After they disappear, Drall strokes his lower jaw.

    "Oh, Admiral. You might be a cunning warrior yourself, but I am a crafty Rodak, once who has accomplished much for my Th��lvik. I think it might just be you who falls in the end."

    With that, he leaves to finish off the remaining Buzor.

    .......................................

    Admiral Rodriguez, a cyclone of terror, rips through his enemies like a butcher through a field of helpless chickens. Two Wuspa dive-bomb him from above, aiming to strike his exposed flank with their stingers. He teleports ten feet backward, causing them to screw up their flight paths and smash into the dirt where he once stood. An instant later, he leaps forward and beheads the giant insects, erasing their existences from the universe.

    Jos�� pants like a dog. His breath comes in heavy gulps, often fleeting due to the intensity of his melee combat. After slaying the two Wuspa, Jos�� staggers for a moment. His vision wavers, making him suddenly see multiple images of the Buzor around him. The giant bugs shout expletives, their unrefined words traveling directly into his brain telepathically.

    Shit... Jos�� thinks, as he staggers backward. My head feels like it''s about to split.

    "Admiral," Umi says, transmitting her words into his brain. "I have detected the presence of a Psionic Interference Device somewhere nearby your combat zone. It seems to be negatively affecting your mind. Based upon the strength of the signal, someone must have placed it within one hundred paces of your current position."

    Jos�� shakes his head to try and rid himself of the dizziness plaguing his mind. "Can''t... can''t think. Brain hurts."

    "Darling!" A woman cries from behind Jos��. "Watch out!"

    Jos�� turns around, only to see a giant centipede rushing at his flank. With his body suddenly moving sluggishly, Jos�� stumbles backward and falls on his ass, just in time to watch as the centipede lunges its maw toward him.

    An instant before the centipede meets its mark, Sapphire appears! The blue-scaled Kraktol female jumps in front of the centipede and holds up her arms protectively.

    CRACK!

    The centipede closes its jaws on Sapphire''s left shoulder, causing a crackle of energy to pop around her figure. Her Survival Suit, overtaxed by the Buzor''s powerful jaws, rapidly begins to buckle.

    At the last second, Sapphire pops a specialized ''Spitfire Grenade'' off her belt, presses its activation button, and hurls it the Buzor''s mouth.

    THOOM!

    An explosion of hellfire erupts in the Buzor''s maw. The humongous bug immediately releases Sapphire, then rears back, screaming incoherently as molten liquid spills around in its gut, boiling it from the inside out. For several seconds, the centipede thrashes around before finally flopping to its side, never to rise again.

    "S-Sapphire..." Jos�� grunts. "Damned, reckless idiot. You nearly died."

    "As did you!" Sapphire says, while rubbing her left shoulder. She glances at her limb, then winces. "I think I dislocated my arm. Hurry, come with me!"

    She grabs the Admiral and helps him to his feet. He wraps one arm around her shoulder and staggers along, half-heartedly shooting any Buzor he can see, though most of his shots miss.

    Once Sapphire drags Jos�� far enough from the Buzor, his vision begins to clear up. It doesn''t take long before he pulls away and shakes the disorientation from his eyes.

    "Shit. Thanks for the assist, Sapphire. The Buzor hit me with some sort of psionic interference; messed my head up real good."

    The two of them move to the backline, giving the Admiral his first glimpse in two hours of the overall battle situation.

    Tens of thousands of Buzor lie dead along the cavern floor, with more than a few Kessu and Kraktol amidst their ranks. Every dead bug curls its body up, as if reflexively having shifted to that position by the Creator''s hand himself. The Admiral''s fallen allies, meanwhile, nearly all lay on their backs or sides, having perished due to frontal attacks from their Buzor enemies.

    Jos��''s expression turns livid. "Yama! That worthless little... all this time, and nobody has so much as sighted the Shadow Emperor or his minions! Ludicrous! I''ve thrown away these soldiers'' lives for nothing! I practically killed them myself!"

    "No, no, Darling, you didn''t!" Sapphire protests. "Don''t you see? There''s so much more going on down here than the Buzor establishing some random underground colony. These weapons are far too advanced for their liking, and I''ve never seen so many sub-species working together! Whatever''s happening on Tarus II, it is much more significant than one lone Demon Emperor."

    "Yes, but you miss the point..." Jos�� mutters, his eyes downcast. "I don''t care about the Buzor, the Kraktol, the Kessu, or any other species'' squabbles. Once I kill Yama, that''s it; I''m done. I''m out. If I put in all this effort to kill him and fail, then any other discoveries won''t mean a thing! I''ve wasted lives pointlessly for a war between species I don''t even understand."

    Sapphire hesitates for a moment before replying.

    "Well... even if it doesn''t mean anything to you, it does to me. This underground lair is extremely significant. I say we should press on and hope for news of the Demon Emperor."

    "And what if we don''t find anything?" Jos�� asks. "What if it was all just a waste of good soldiers'' lives?"

    "You might see it as a waste, but I don''t!" Sapphire retorts. "We don''t. The Kraktol will happily lay down our lives if it means advancing our species'' interests. If you care at all about Megla, Soren, or me, then you should consider what this discovery means to us, Darling."

    The Admiral sighs.

    "Easy for you to say, Sapphire. The Kraktol and Kessu hate one another. Simply by sheltering the Kessu, I''ve taken a side in your conflict. Perhaps the old me might have made that decision, but the new me doesn''t understand it at all."

    Sapphire blinks twice. "...Huh? ''Old me''? ''New me''? Whatever do you mean, Darling?"

    Jos�� visibly echoes her confusion. "Oh. Err, well, I''m speaking... metaphorically. Yeah. It''s a Terran thing. You wouldn''t understand."

    Internally, he groans in annoyance. Idiot. I almost told her about my ''death'' and memory loss. No matter how sweet Sapphire might be, I cannot reveal that information to anyone on Drall''s side. I still don''t know the full extent of her loyalty.

    Sapphire, however, merely nods. "Kyargh! I see. You Terrans have such a... way with words. Well, now that you''ve caught your breath, I hope you will excuse me, Darling. My shoulder aches terribly."

    Jos�� glances back in the direction of the slowly dwindling Buzor combatants. Their shrieks of rage grow feebler by the minute.

    "Yeah. Get Kisa to patch you up. Don''t come back until you''re in tip-top shape."

    "Aww, you finally care about me!" Sapphire teases, flashing him a cute croco-smile. When Jos�� doesn''t respond, she simply pauses for half a breath before wandering away.

    Jos�� shakes his head. "Women. I barely understand the human ones... but crocodilians are a complete mystery to me. How in the Divine Emperor''s name does she intend to mate with me, anyway? An interspecies relationship would surely fail before getting off the ground."

    The Admiral smiles wryly. Without giving the matter any more thought, he turns around and heads back to the frontlines, his head finally clear from the psionic interference.

    "Umi. Start triangulating the transmitter''s position. It must be mobile, perhaps strapped to some random Buzor''s body. If we can destroy it, I can finish off the enemies who remain."

    "Affirmative, Admiral," Umi replies. "I will begin at once."

    "Excellent," Jos�� says, as he grabs a random rifle laying on the ground, its dead owner nearby, never again to walk among the living. "Let''s finish this mission and get out of here. I''m already sick and tired of the smell of roasted bugs."

 Chapter 54: Buzors Ultimate Weapon

    Countless Buzor perish in groups of two to ten at a time. The humongous, oversized bugs fall prey to Admiral Rodriguez''s advanced weaponry, perishing en-masse as his ten Titan battle-armors storm forward, blasting anything to pieces not shaped like a cat, a croc, or a human. Thousands of bullets fly every second, tearing holes open in Buzor carapaces and otherwise forcing the swarm of defenders backward.

    Along with the Kraktol and the lone Terran, over two thousand able-bodied Kessu join the fight. Unlike their much bigger and tougher Kraktol counterparts, the Kessu have to utilize much more devious and cunning strategies, rather than relying on overwhelming power to kill the Buzor. Two males fighting alongside each other perform the most admirably, uniting their strengths to form the Kessu''s mightiest phalanx. Ruuki and Rags both wield their Thunder Gauntlets like practiced veterans of countless wars.

    Rags, once a scrawny little fellow too timid to fight, now strikes a valiant pose before leaping at a giant centipede. Equipped with a pair of Thunder Gauntlets and a combat-level Survival Suit, he uses his tiny, four-foot stature to zip beneath the legs of the other beings fighting around him. He leaps into the air with his species'' trademark agility, kicks off the shoulder of a Kraktol, and pounces toward the terrifying maw of his Buzor enemy.

    SLAP!

    Rags smacks the centipede''s face, using the strength-amplifying effects of his gauntlet to tear the ugly creature''s head right off the rest of its body. The teeth-filled skull goes flying into the distance, where it crashes into another group of Kraktol and Buzor.

    Rags lands nimbly on his hind-limbs and executes a backward-rolling maneuver, deftly avoiding the centipede''s remaining body as it flops to the ground, lifelessly.

    "Nice shot! Kyargh! Thanks for the assist!" The Kraktol warrior says, giving Rags a thumbs-up. She runs ahead, resuming battle, while Rags takes a moment to join up with Ruuki.

    "Good strike, kid!" Ruuki says. "Meow! You remind me of your father when he was your age. If he were still here, I''m sure he''d be proud of you."

    Rags'' smile fades a little at the mention of his father, someone who died many years before in a hunting incident. "I want to become a great warrior, like my dad. I want to protect my village, just like he did."

    "I''m sure you will!" Ruuki says, as the tiger-striped Kessu nudges the kid''s shoulder. "Now, wipe that glum look off your face. When you return to the ship, you''ve gotta have some badass war stories to tell the ladies, kid! That''s how you''ll nab yourself a cute litter of kittens!"

    Rags smiles again. "Y-yeah! That''s right, uncle Ruuki! Mraaaw! I''ve gotta be awesome so the girls like me! Come on, let''s do this!"

    With his fighting spirit reinvigorated, Rags joins Ruuki to execute a series of two-pronged attacks. Both Kessu duck and dodge, skip and hop, pouncing like the hunters they are at their hapless Buzor enemies. Each claw swipe slays a bug, while their armor soaks up any stray damage that might endanger their lives.

    As they fight, Rags glances toward the lower regions of the cavern, where fewer and fewer Buzor stream out compared to earlier.

    "Hiss! We''ve got these ugly crusties on the run! To think such nasty creatures lived beneath our village all this time... I''ll never be able to return home and sleep soundly until we''ve killed them all!"

    "I was just thinking the same thing!" Ruuki says. "No way am I letting my little kitten live on a world where creepy crawlies slither around beneath her feet! I''ll make sure we fix our home up so Lele can live in peace once again!"

    .......................................

    Admiral Rodriguez, the only Terran among all of the giant bugs, bipedal crocodiles, and feisty kitty-cats, continues blasting his way through the Buzor, soaking his body with gallons and gallons of multi-colored blood.

    The Terran no longer wields a gun, instead opting to swing around an unbelievably sharp vibro-sword, one with ''kinetic coating'' on its edges, making it capable of slicing through all but the thickest of steel armor. Naturally, the Buzor stand no chance against his advanced Fiftieth Era weaponry.

    [Vile Terran! Cease your hostility at once, or you will find no safe harbor anywhere in the Milky Way!] One Mitteras elite yells, threatening the Admiral. [You fool! Do you not see the stupidity of going against my species?! No matter how many of us you kill, millions more will take our place! Against our swarm, you are merely- aargh!]

    Jos��''s eyes glimmer, revealing his deep-seated annoyance. Before the giant termite can finish its monologue, he plunges his blade into its thorax and swipes outward, spraying green blood to the Buzor''s right. The so-called elite warrior''s last words amount to little more than incoherent, pain-filled screams. Moments later, its telepathic voice disappears from Jos��''s mind, making him smile.

    "So god-damned noisy..." Jos�� grunts. He turns away from the termite''s corpse as it flops to the ground, then moves further into the Buzor hordes.

    "Umi," Jos�� says, "how many enemies can you detect now?"

    "The Buzor''s swarms have decreased by fifty-five percent compared to one hour ago," Umi replies. The synthmind''s voice transmits to Jos��''s mind telepathically, thanks to a neural link embedded in his brain. "Additionally, I cannot detect any Orcs, Trolls, or other demonic-type monster-entities in the surrounding caverns. I believe they have either retreated, or all perished. My calculations indicate that the first option has a seventy-three percent likelihood."

    Admiral Rodriguez pauses for half a breath. He flicks his eyes from left to right, quickly gathering intel about the battles being fought by his many subordinates and their outgunned Buzor enemies.

    "I thought for sure the Buzor would have turned much deadlier weapons on us by now. Those guns they revealed were certainly dangerous, but still inferior to my weaponry. Why didn''t they pull out their weapons earlier, though? Why did they wait so long? Something isn''t adding up."

    His questions, entirely rhetorical, go unanswered by Umi. Jos�� resumes his slaughter of the Buzor around him, but his killing speed slows dramatically as he puts his brain on autopilot, no longer fearful of his enemy''s combat prowess. Instead, he focuses his thoughts on the Buzor''s strange behavior, Yama''s disappearance from the underground realm, and their oddly out-of-the-ordinary technological capabilities.

    "Soren, this is Admiral Rodriguez speaking," Jos�� says, as he opens up a mental commlink to his Second Officer. "Didn''t you tell me that the Buzor have no advanced weaponry at their disposal?"

    A few seconds pass before Soren responds, likely due to her concentration on the battle outside of her Titan battle-armor.

    "...Yes, that is right, Admiral. The Buzor suddenly pulling advanced weaponry out of their thoraxes is, to put it bluntly, completely unexpected. I''ve not directly fought them before, but the Rodaks, Avaru, and Mallali have confronted the Buzor on many occasions. Their total lack of technological warfare has always been their greatest weakness. That, plus their wildly inferior space-faring capabilities... though rumors have it that in recent millennia, they''ve obtained space-faring carapaces that can travel between stars."

    Jos�� nods absent-mindedly. His body, accustomed to ten millennia of intense combat, moves purely on instinct, cutting down the Buzor with the ease of a fully-grown man stomping cockroaches beneath his boots.

    "I see. Maybe the weapons themselves are the key to all of this. Once we clear out these defenders, take a look at some of these images. I''ll send you detailed scans of the Buzor''s weaponry; they might give you some hints. We''ll ask Lord Drall if he knows anything, too."

    "Yes, Admiral. I''ll get on that as quickly as I can." Soren replies.

    Jos�� cuts the line, then returns to full-speed killing.

    I''ll know soon enough just what the hell is going on down here. Another few miles and we''ll reach the heart of the Buzor''s burrows.

    ...

    Three hours pass.

    Time flies as several waves of Buzor join up with their frontline soldiers. However, with fewer and fewer of the giant bugs revealing themselves, many Kraktol and Kessu manage to take longer breaks, swapping out periodically with their tired comrades on the frontlines.

    Eventually, only a few straggler Buzor remain. Jos�� ceases his unending slaughter, allowing his subordinates to clean up the dregs.

    "Excellent work," Jos�� says, his voice strained. "It''s been ages since I fought so many enemies, but we made it. Everyone... report the dead. Let''s quickly tag any bodies we can find and mark them with teleportation transponders. Umi will beam them back to the ship where we can grieve later."

    Jos�� transmits his message to all the surviving fighters, sparing only a glance at Umi''s report of the fallen.

    Twenty percent of the Kraktol and Kessu are unaccounted for, expected dead. A few of them might still be alive, albeit with broken Survival Suits, but we won''t know until we check the rosters. Damn. Twenty god-damned percent... and Yama didn''t show his face even once.

    The Admiral''s face, usually sporting a stoic expression, twitches with rage.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    Yama. You must think yourself quite clever, escaping my wrath. Too bad for you, I''ll exterminate all the life on this planet as long as it means wiping you from existence. I''ll ignite a supernova on this world''s star, if that''s what it takes. You will not live out your remaining days in peace... not after all the atrocities you''ve unleashed.

    The Admiral forces a neutral expression, then returns to his soldiers. He orders several squads to different positions and spends the next hour clearing out the bodies of any fallen he can find. Sadly, though, more than three dozen dead Kraktol and Kessu go missing, likely eaten or ripped apart beyond recognition by the Buzor.

    Jos�� glares at the rows of dead bodies, more than four hundred in total. White sheets cover them, hiding their identities.

    "How tragic. I hoped it wouldn''t come to this... yet here we are. Umi, begin the recovery transmissions. Everyone else, follow me. Let''s march on the Buzor and teach them the meaning of fear."

    Minutes later, the fallen bodies begin disappearing, teleported to the Bloodbearer under Umi''s control.

    As he walks, Jos�� pauses mid-stride to glance at Megla and Soren, both of whom walk over to him in unison.

    "Kyargh! Admiral, I thought the Bloodbearer couldn''t teleport people from underground? What about the Trifrancium deposits?" Megla asks.

    "She can''t transport living bodies," Jos�� explains. "Not except in the case of an emergency. Too much interference; the DNA buffers might royally screw up and resequence your genomes into... you don''t want to know. Let''s just say full-body cancer would be a pleasant death by comparison. However, dead bodies aren''t under such constraints. They''re already dead, so... any such DNA resequencing won''t kill them any harder."

    Megla''s yellow scales turn a pallid grey. "I... I see."

    Soren speaks up next. "Admiral, I took a look at the Buzor''s weapons. As expected, their designs appear remarkably similar to the weapons used by many Mallali security forces. Furthermore..."

    Admiral Rodriguez listens intently for a few minutes as Soren reaches a conclusion basically identical to what Lord Drall, Kilgore, and Gorlax reached many hours earlier.

    "I see. These weapons could be stolen, but you suspect the Mallali deliberately supplied the Buzor, instead? If that''s the case, then how did the Buzor modify the weapons? Did the Mallali assist them?"

    "That''s not out of the question..." Soren mutters. "However... Admiral, I think we should consider another possibility. I think that the Kessu might be involved."

    "The Kessu?" Jos�� repeats. "In what way? Are you implying the Kessu have been building weapons for the Buzor?"

    "I don''t know for certain," Soren says, glancing between her sister and the Admiral. "But I have a hunch. The fact the Kessu were once the galaxy''s foremost scientists, and then they showed up on this world, wiped their memories for seemingly no reason... perhaps they aren''t as innocent as we first thought."

    Jos�� falls silent. He eyes his Second Officer, then nods.

    "I see. We weren''t able to account for a few Kessu on the surface, notably Lele''s aunt Lorrie. Lele seems abnormally smart compared to the other Kessu, and she claims her aunt taught her about technology. If we put those facts together, along with Lorrie''s missing personage, then the most likely scenario is..."

    "Not all the Kessu wiped their memories," Soren concludes. "Yes. I believe the Kessu have chosen to work with the Buzor for some hitherto-unknown reason. Perhaps when my people bombarded the surface, it set off a series of unexpected events that otherwise disrupted their plans."

    Megla''s tone turns icy. "Kyargh. Maybe the Kessu never abandoned their former ways. They might have simply swapped allegiances, opting to work alongside the Buzor to achieve galactic conquest."

    "We don''t know that for sure," Jos�� says, gently raising his palm. "Do not jump to conclusions. Even if it''s true that there are Kessu who never lost their memories, we should still assume those with wiped memories are innocent and have no knowledge of the past."

    "Understood, Admiral," Soren replies, nodding sternly. "I''ll go along with whatever you decide."

    "Same," Megla confirms. "So, shall we head out now?"

    "Yes," Jos�� answers. "Mobilize the troops, but leave two Titans behind to guard our path of retreat. I don''t want the Buzor caving in the mountain behind us."

    Having satisfied his curiosity, the Admiral and his forces quickly work together, creating a massive platoon of soldiers, with the Kraktol standing in a big square-formation on the borders, while the Kessu huddle together on the inside, shielded by the scaled bodies around them.

    "Move out," Jos�� orders. "Continue killing any Buzor if they appear."

    "Yes, Admiral!" Comes the reply from a chorus of cats and crocs.

    ...

    Another hour passes. The Admiral and his troops make rapid progress as they stride forward, hampered for barely a minute at a time as Buzor pop out of various side tunnels and holds in the ceiling. However, compared to the fierce firefights from earlier, these momentary obstacles require little effort for Jos��''s allied forces to mop up.

    After delving another three miles underground, the Admiral''s army finally reaches the eighteen-mile depth. The formerly warm temperatures rise noticeably, making the Terran start to sweat.

    "Ramma, guide me..." Jos�� mutters. "Feels like we''re diving into the depths of-"

    "Admiral," Soren interrupts. She points at the ceiling, where a shiny glimmer catches everyone''s eye. "Look. What is that?"

    Jos�� follows her finger. He zooms in with his ocular implants, than frowns.

    "Odd. That looks like steel plating used to reinforce an underground tunnel. Actually, over there, too. I see another one. And another one. Hm?"

    Thick, three-by-three slabs of steel start popping up more frequently as the Admiral''s army walks. Soon, the floors, too, start clanging underfoot, making the Admiral glance downward, where he spots even more plating.

    "Oho. Now this is interesting," Jos�� muses. "No longer do we walk among crudely dug tunnels. We''re about to enter some sort of... underground facility."

    Megla nods. "This tunnel... it does not give me the impression that any Buzor made it."

    Jos�� and Soren share a meaningful glance, but merely nod at each other without voicing their thoughts.

    It doesn''t take long before the once-rocky and dirt-covered walls give way to shining exosteel, the sort of high-quality metal only a starship or advanced research facility might offer. As the Admiral leads the way, his ocular implants flicker around, noting several doors attached to the tunnel walls, many of them recently welded shut.

    "It seems the Buzor have retreated..." Jos�� mutters. "And they made it as hard as possible for us to snoop around. They must be hiding something precious down here."

    Several Kraktol walk over to the sealed doors and try to force them open, but the hyper-efficient welds ensure they will need similar tools to unseal those entrances.

    "Leave them," Jos�� orders. "Stay in formation. We could still be ambushed at some point. I want everyone ready in case of any nasty surprises."

    The Terran''s movements become slower, more deliberate. He cautiously flicks his eyes around while clutching his gun to his chest. The distant hum of machinery catches his attention well before any of the Kraktol, but not much sooner than the Kessu, with their sharp hearing.

    "Mraww..." Ruuki meows. "Admiral, I hear funny noises up ahead."

    "It doesn''t sound like war-machines," Jos�� replies. "Just keep your wits about you and look for hostiles."

    Within minutes, the army arrives inside a giant antechamber, one with several catwalks up above, holes in the ground for Buzor to enter and exit, and five different diverging pathways, all of them leading deeper into the underground depths. Notably, no longer does the planet''s oppressive heat feel so stifling, as air-conditioning pumps transfer artificially cooled air into the facility.

    Jos�� looks around the room. He spots some sort of hovering vehicle sitting on the ground up ahead, its engines torn up and its fuel canisters retracted. Now little more than a broken mess, it appears mostly unusable, at least not without plenty of servicing and rebuilding.

    "Split up. Keep in groups of fifty," Jos�� says, motioning in several directions. "Mix it up a bit. Kraktol and Kessu, work together. Cover each other''s backs."

    Megla frowns. "Split up? Admiral, isn''t that dangerous?"

    Jos�� shakes his head. "No. I don''t think it is. I haven''t detected movement for an hour. Now, I think I finally know why the Buzor kept attacking us with such fury. They were trying to slow us down so they could rip apart this facility and deny us their research."

    "What good would that do?" Lord Drall asks, stomping up from the backline. "The Buzor can''t escape offworld. Even if they tried, your Bloodbearer would detect and shoot them down! It''s a pointless endeavor!"

    "I don''t know," Jos�� replies, glancing at the Kraktol leader. "Maybe they''ve simply fled into the planet''s depths. I can vaporize all life on Tarus II''s surface, but the underground will take longer. They might have some secret method for contacting the Mallali, or a backup plan to eventually escape Tarus II. Either way, none of those possibilities have a damn thing to do with Yama, so they aren''t anything I care about. Like I said, spread out and start searching. We''ll find useful clues more quickly that way."

    "Alright," Drall says, as a greedy look enters his eyes. "I might find some useful technology down here."

    "Yes, and you can keep whatever you find," Jos�� says, waving his hand flippantly. "But don''t get your hopes up. I imagine the Buzor had more time than just today to prepare for an invasion. You''re not likely to find anything of value."

    Without another word, Jos�� and Soren split off from Megla and Drall, as well as many other teams. Eighteen divisions in total go their own way, traveling down distant tunnels to search for technology, remnants of the Buzor attack squads, and anything else of value.

    After twenty minutes of searching, Jos�� arrives at yet another of the countless sealed bulkheads. This one, however, belongs to a giant pair of thirty-foot-tall double-doors, both of which stand out from the entrances to smaller sub-facilities. The Admiral pulls out his vibroblade and climbs to the top of the door, then begins slowly sliding down it, melting apart the welds with his sword''s incredibly sharp edge.

    As he peels the welding apart like a banana, the Admiral keeps his grip on the sword steady. He reaches the bottom and pulls away, exhaling deeply.

    "Alright. I have no idea what''s inside, so keep on your guard, everyone. For all we know, some hideous super-Buzor could be lying in wait, ready to pounce at us. I don''t know about you, but I didn''t come all this way to end up as some nasty centipede''s dinner."

    "Centipede?" Soren asks.

    Jos�� ignores her. "On the count of three, I''m going to open this door. Everyone, lock and load."

    He walks over to a nearby panel, one with a series of control codes required. By merely glancing at the panel, Jos�� instantly unlocks it via Umi''s remote hacking capabilities.

    "One... two..."

    The moment Jos�� reaches the final digit, he presses the ''door open'' button and jumps backward, lifting his sword and readying himself for a fight. The door silently rumbles open, its thirty-foot-tall frame spreading apart to reveal a well-lit interior, and something that baffles the Kraktol and Kessu alike.

    Rags, the young male Kessu, blinks twice. "Huh? What the heck is that thing?"

    Ruuki shrugs. "Uh... dunno. Looks like a... a pair of metal arms? They kind point up and curve at the top. That''s weird."

    Even Soren with all her technical knowledge, can only blankly stare at the pair of giant metal pylons in the center of the newly opened room.

    "Err... Admiral? This certainly looks important, but what is- Admiral?"

    In unison, Soren, the other Kraktol, and the Kessu, all look at Jos��, only to see their beloved Admiral frozen in shock, a look of complete astonishment glued to his face.

    "N... no... it can''t be... they were only legends... all destroyed, I thought..."

    The Admiral drops his sword, allowing it to clatter to the ground beside him. His look of shock turns to one of contemplation, as hundreds of puzzle pieces click together in his mind.

    "Admiral?" Soren asks, alarmed by his complete breakdown of decorum. "What is it? What is this weird structure? Do you recognize it?!"

    Slowly, Jos�� nods. A strange smile, not one of joy, but one of bewilderment, passes over his face.

    "...I do. How could I not? Ramma''s Chosen always sought to find and destroy these accursed artifacts at all costs. It''s just... never in a million years did I expect to find one on Tarus II, a prison world. It must have been here the whole time. So, how did we overlook it? I don''t understand..."

    After several seconds of contemplation, the Admiral closes his eyes and laughs.

    "Haha. Oh, my dear Soren. This device is an ancient Volgrim artifact... a weapon capable of terrorizing the entire galaxy. It is... a warpgate..."

    The Admiral raises his eyes, meeting his Second Officer''s gaze.

    "Finally, I understand why we''ve not seen Yama or the Buzor. It is all too obvious to me, now. They''ve all escaped this world... and we may never be able to catch them again."

    "They''ve left the mortal realm and traveled to Hell: The demonic realm."

 Chapter 55: Warpgates Secrets

    Admiral Rodriguez laughs emptily. His eyes lose much of their gleam as he gazes at the two curved spires of metal arcing up in half circles atop the shiny warpgate platform. For several seconds, not a thought stirs in Jos��''s mind. Instead, he merely looks retrospectively at all of his actions up to now, reflecting silently on how futile they all were.

    "...What a waste of time and lives," Jos�� mutters. "All my new Kraktol and Kessu friends died for nothing. Now that we know of this Warpgate''s existence, we can almost certainly infer that Yama has escaped through it to Hell."

    Soren shifts her weight from one foot to another. "Admiral. What is Hell? What is a Warpgate? What does this discovery mean?"

    "My explanation isn''t complex..." Jos�� answers, still looking at the curved pylons. "But it is disheartening. Soren, are you familiar with the most common methods of warp travel?"

    His Second Officer glances around at the nearby Kraktol and Kessu, all of whom listen to her conversation with the Admiral eagerly, desperate to understand the significance of their discovery as much as Soren herself.

    "I am, Admiral. Before you- err, before that incident with your memory... you explained the methods of warp travel to me."

    "In that case, I must have explained Jump Gates to you, correct?" Jos�� asks.

    "Yes. Ah! I see. This Warpgate is similar to a Jump Gate, then?"

    The Admiral folds his hands behind his back, turns to face Soren, and nods.

    "It is. Humanity did not invent the concept of Jump Gates. We... appropriated that technology from the Volgrim. Our crude, power-inefficient versions never held a candle to our predecessors, likely due to their several-million-year headstart on us, technologically. Perhaps, given time, we might have surpassed them, but it never happened in my lifetime."

    After a momentary pause, he continues. "Jump Gates connect two points in space together across an infinite distance. Even if that distance spans across galaxies, by stepping through a rip in space, one can instantly travel millions of lightyears in the blink of an eye. Warpgates function identically, but also far, far more efficiently."

    "What are their differences?" Soren asks.

    "Simply put, a Jump Gate requires colossal amounts of power. No matter how small my people tried to build them, the power requirement was always a terrible limiting factor. Surprisingly though, that requirement remained about the same whether the gate was human-sized or planet-sized. Therefore, for efficiency reasons, we would often build Jump Gates in space, somewhere they could draw power directly from a star, and big enough for Juggernaut-class ships, such as the Bloodbearer, to pass through. At that point, the time and cost for construction materials became a much bigger limiting factor, but I digress..."

    He continues. "Another terribly limiting factor for Jump Gates: Once activated, they required an enormous amount of time to connect to the other Jump Gate built in a different location. They could not switch jump-targets, and had to remain connected indefinitely, else the deactivation would create a spatial anomaly capable of tearing both gates apart in an instant. Think like a miniature black hole for 1/1000th of a second. Anyway, Warpgates built by the Volgrim never had that deficiency. You can open a portal from one Warpgate to another, provided you know a series of coordinates related to their temporal distances. Their power requirements are minute, which made many Terran engineers theorize that they pulled power from a dimensional anomaly in P-space... but that''s a subject for another time."

    The Admiral sighs heavily. Without any fanfare, he walks over to the Warpgate and plops down on its steps, taking a load off as he rubs his eyes.

    "Simply put, these Warpgates are one-of-a-kind. I cannot build one, nor could any other Terran who ever existed. Only the Volgrim could, and those heretics went extinct long, long before my birth. From what I once heard, the various Terran leaders went out of their way to destroy all of the ancient Warpgates... but perhaps those were merely rumors spread among the lower ranks to deceive us. The fact Terrankind''s most well-known prison world has always housed a Warpgate... it just... it confounds me."

    "You say ''has always''," Soren replies. "What makes you so certain? Couldn''t someone transplant a Warpgate from one place to another? Maybe this one came from a different world."

    Jos�� throws his hands up in the air. "Yes. Maybe. I don''t know. Fuck, none of this matters to me, except for the fact that Yama has definitively escaped my grasp. We can''t catch him now."

    Soren shoots a glance backward at the surprised Kraktol behind her. Sapphire strides forward while clutching her claws to her chest. "Darling... surely, there must be some way! Can''t we open up that portal and go to Hell? Maybe if we give chase-"

    "I most certainly will not authorize such a suicidal operation," Jos�� interrupts. "Don''t be foolish. If the Buzor have access to this Warpgate, and if they''ve used it, then you can bet a million credits they''ve infested any other points to which we might travel. I haven''t a clue how many other gates still exist in the Milky Way, but if this one leads where I think it does, then the Buzor have likely taken over Hell. Trying to follow them will only lead us into a deathtrap."

    Jos�� pauses. An ominous look appears in his eyes.

    "Shit."

    "What is it?" Soren asks.

    "You don''t want to know..." The Terran says, as he rubs his face. "Fuck. The situation could be worse than I thought."

    He pauses for half a breath, then continues.

    "...Yama lives. We''ve also encountered orcs, goblins, and trolls, to name a few monsters. If I assume the worst... then my mind naturally tilts toward the conclusion that Yama is not the last living demon. There may be others out there. Grunts. Lords. Barons. Dukes. Perhaps even other Emperors."

    "Or not," Jos�� continues, shrugging. "They might all be dead and Yama might be the last one. But something tells me other demons still walk the mortal realm. If so, then I absolutely will not authorize an expedition to Hell. Dealing with a single Demon Emperor is hard enough, but Ramma guide me if any others still live."

    Several Kessu chatter amongst each other, as do the Kraktol.

    Eventually, a male Kraktol officer raises his hand.

    "Admiral, if I may. I think for the sake of the galaxy we should destroy this Warpgate. Now that we know it exists, we can initiate a galaxy-wide search for other gates in an attempt to break them all down. Any Buzor-controlled world should be a top suspect."

    "Hahaha..." Jos�� laughs. "Destroy them? You can''t."

    "You may not like us taking such a bold action, but I insist that we at least try," The male Kraktol says. "If they''re as dangerous as you say, then denying the Buzor such a crucial tactical advantage would at least-"

    "No, you don''t understand," Jos�� interrupts. "You can''t destroy a Warpgate. I can''t, either. They aren''t made out of steel, titanium, or any other metal alloy you''ve heard of. The Volgrim constructed them out of Living Moldanium, the hardest known substance in the universe. Living Moldanium is a legendary alloy, so durable that even if a supernova detonated right next to Tarus II, this gate would almost assuredly survive the blast."

    The Admiral''s words send a wave of shock through the Kraktol, though the Kessu appear less aware of the ramifications in his statements.

    "A supernova?" Soren asks, incredulously. "Admiral, I don''t want to say that''s impossible, however..."

    "I know it sounds absurd," Jos�� explains, "but trust me; it isn''t. Humanity tried to create Living Moldanium ourselves, but we always failed. The best we could do was come up with a few methods for slowly melting down and reworking Volgrim-era artifacts made of the stuff into other forms. That''s it. I don''t even know those ancient methods, and Umi probably doesn''t either. Do you, Umi?"

    Umi replies inside Jos��''s brain. "Negative, Admiral. Knowledge regarding the reformation of Living Moldanium is considered an Executive-Level secret. Were they still alive, only three members of Ramma''s Chosen would ever have access to that knowledge at any given time."

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    Jos�� nods. "Defensive equipment created from Living Moldanium would make my Dermal Armor look like a pitiful parlor trick. I could fire all of the Bloodbearer''s weapons at this gate for ten years straight without denting it. Destroying it is simply impossible."

    "So... what do we do then, Darling?" Sapphire asks.

    "I doubt I can activate this Warpgate on my own, and not even with Umi''s help. We''d need the galactic coordinates of another Warpgate; preferably one located in a place where we wouldn''t get instantly killed. Even so, it''d take me hours to hack it. I doubt we can destroy its internal wiring or power source... so, for now, our best bet is to set some mining charges, collapse this entire underground structure, and hope the Buzor can''t tunnel their way back at some point."

    "...Which they definitely can," Soren concludes. "Kyargh! Admiral, I must say, I think I understand why this discovery is so frustrating for you."

    Jos�� stands up and walks away from the Warpgate, popping his back as he leaves. "I doubt you know the half of it, but you can probably understand an inkling of my worries. For now, let''s continue searching this facility. Maybe we can find some clues, some key information... after we bury it beneath a million tons of earth, we''ll regroup at the ship and decide what to do next."

    The Admiral starts to walk away from the Warpgate, but Ruuki pitter-patters over to him. "Mraww! Great Precursor, are you sure there''s nothing we can do? Maybe we can''t go through that gate or break it apart... but don''t you think just leaving it here would be a bad idea? The Buzor can dig tunnels, after all. They can probably unbury it pretty easily."

    Admiral Rodriguez nods. "You''re right; they can. Unfortunately, I don''t have any long-term plans, at least not for now. I''ve said it before and I''ll say it again... I don''t plan to partake in any galactic power squabbles between the different sentient species. Whether the Buzor, Mallali, or Rodaks take power is none of my business. My only goal is to kill Yama, and at this rate I won''t succeed in that endeavor. I might as well plan for my second phase, which is finding out what happened to my people."

    Ruuki lowers his head.

    "But... but our world... we can''t return knowing the Buzor live right beneath our paws."

    "I don''t know what to say," Jos�� replies. "I''ll do what I can to help you out. You''re free to stay with me on the Bloodbearer. Maybe someday we''ll find a new world for you to colonize."

    Rags, not far from the Admiral, loses some of the luster in his eyes. "But Precursor... this world is our home. We don''t want to leave it forever."

    Jos�� hesitates. He glances in the kid''s direction and opens his mouth to speak, but at that moment, Megla comes running up from another corridor.

    "Kyargh! Admiral! There you are! Listen, we''ve just found a Kessu survivor! You won''t believe who it is!"

    The Admiral raises his head to look in Megla''s direction. "A Kessu survivor? Do you mean to say that there were Kessu taken underground after all?"

    Megla nods vigorously. "Yes! Guess who it is! Guess! Kyargh, I''ll tell you; It''s Lele''s aunt, Lorrie!"

    Jos�� blinks twice. "Lorrie? Where did you find her?"

    "Hiding inside a small air-conditioning vent. The front was all torn up. It looked like she hid there and the Buzor tried to get her, but pulled away and left her behind. She''s not hurt at all!"

    The Admiral nods. "Good. That''s good news, indeed. Alright. Let''s head over and see what she has to say. Soren, come with me. Everyone else, stay behind and guard that gate. If it activates, shoot anything that comes through."

    "Yes, Admiral," The remaining Kraktol and Kessu reply.

    As Jos�� leaves, Megla curiously glances at the opened double-doors and the pair of giant pylons sticking up in the air.

    "Kyargh! What the heck is that thing?"

    "I''ll tell you on the way," Jos�� replies.

    .......................................

    Twenty minutes later, Jos�� and both of his officers arrive back at the designated meeting point. Megla appears noticeably more alert than before, having learned all about the Warpgates and the threat they pose to the galaxy.

    Once he arrives, Jos�� sweeps his gaze across the assembled throng of five hundred Kessu and Kraktol, all intermingling here and there, in bunches of five to twenty. It doesn''t take more than a few seconds before Jos�� picks Drall out of the crowd.

    "Lord Drall," Jos�� says, as he walks toward the Second Highest Kraktol. "Where''s the Kessu you rescued?"

    Drall tips his nose respectfully when he spots Jos��. "Right over here, Admiral Rodriguez. She has a bit of dirt on her fur from crawling around in that vent, but otherwise, she''s fine."

    "Alright, Soren and I will chat with her," Jos�� says. "However, Megla needs to fill you in on the details surrounding our big discovery. You won''t want to miss this."

    Drall''s eyes light up with a mixture of delight and apprehension. "A discovery, you say? Graugh! I hope your encounter was fortuitous..."

    Jos�� curls up his lip. "Not quite. It''s pretty terrible news, to be honest. Megla?"

    His First Officer nods. "Well, father, it''s like this..."

    Drall listens to his daughter''s explanation on the Warpgate intently while Jos�� and Soren walk away, heading off to a large cluster of Kessu. There, they spot a surprisingly tall female Kessu standing in their midst with black fur, though several patches of white dot her face and chest. She wears a dirty white coat with more than a dozen pockets, all of them crammed full of random gizmos and gadgets.

    "Oh!" Lorrie says, as Jos�� approaches. "Mrawww! You must be the Terran! Thank you for saving me!"

    The Admiral doesn''t immediately reply. Instead he sizes up the tall, slender kitty-cat. Her five-foot height puts her at the apex of the Kessu present, though she still barely reaches Jos��''s hips.

    "You are Lorrie?" Jos�� asks. "Lele''s aunt?"

    Lorrie''s ears twitch. "Yes. That is me. My apologies, Terran. I did not expect to escape the Buzor''s clutches today. I am... a little overcome with emotion."

    Jos�� rests his hands on his hips. "You know I am a Terran. How?"

    "Yama told us," Lorrie says. "Several months ago, Yama spoke of how he slew you in combat. He explained to the Buzor and my fellow scientists what a ''Terran'' was and why your death was so significant. Fortunately, it seems he failed to kill you, and now you''ve managed to save me!"

    Soren''s eyes twitch, remembering the ''failed'' death of her Admiral. However, she says nothing, allowing Jos�� to continue his conversation unimpeded.

    The Terran Admiral waves his hand. "Excuse me, everyone. I''d like to ask for some privacy with Miss Lorrie, Soren, and I. Would you all give us time alone?"

    The Kessu nearby, as well as a few Kraktol, shrug silently and start walking away. It takes a few minutes before a fairly large area opens up around the Admiral and his new Kessu acquaintance. Once he finds his group of three isolated, Jos�� casually sits on a nearby weapons locker, as does Soren. Lorrie remains standing, a look of confusion on her face.

    "Terran? Meow? Have I said something wrong?" Lorrie asks.

    "My name is Jos�� Rodriguez," The Admiral replies. "You may refer to me as Admiral Rodriguez or Jos��, whichever you prefer. I don''t particularly care about pleasantries or decorum, so use whatever makes you feel most comfortable."

    Lorrie fiddles with a random device in her pocket. "Alright then... Jos��. Um, so... did you manage to rescue any of the other Kessu who were trapped down here?"

    Jos�� shakes his head. "Not that I know of. More importantly, I need to ask you some pertinent questions, Lorrie. There''s something that''s been bothering me for a while now, and seeing you down here, I feel as if my suspicions were confirmed. How do I put this... have you been working with the Buzor? And if so, why?"

    The black-furred Kessu falls silent. She fidgets with her feet for a moment, then lowers her head.

    "It... it isn''t what you think, Jos��. I can guess some of the thoughts in your head but... I am no ally of the Buzor."

    "So they kidnapped you?" Jos�� asks. "Forced you to work down here? Build this facility for them? And the Warpgate... somehow, I doubt the Buzor would know how to work such a technologically advanced device."

    Lorrie''s shoulders sag. Reluctantly, she walks over to another nearby crate, one lugged in by one of Jos��''s platoons, and takes a seat. A few moments pass as she collects her thoughts.

    "Mraww. You are familiar with the memory erasures of my people, I presume?"

    Jos�� nods. "I am."

    "You''ve brought a large number of Kraktol with you. Does that mean you are also aware of my people''s struggles with their kind?"

    Soren''s eyes narrow at the mention of her species, but still, she says nothing.

    Jos�� nods again. "I know about your ancient rivalries, yes."

    "Well, they aren''t that ancient..." Lorrie says, chuckling. "Thanks to certain types of Precursor technologies, there are a surprising number of beings who lived two thousand years ago and still persist to today. I am one of them."

    The Admiral''s eyes glow with insight. "Oh? I suppose that next you will tell me you never wiped your own memories?"

    "I did not," Lorrie replies, affirming Jos��''s observation. "I entered into a... a bargain, with the Buzor. There was a dreadful political ploy pressed against my people''s throats, and so, as their leader, I had to do what I thought best for their survival."

    "You were the Kessu''s leader?" Jos�� asks. "Hmm. Why don''t we start from the beginning?"

    The Kessu laughs daintily. "Mraw-haha. That is, um... that is certainly possible, Admiral. I''d like to ask though, is Lele okay? Is my niece in good health?"

    "She is," Jos�� answers. "Lele lives on my ship at the moment. She doesn''t get along with other kittens very well, though. She prefers to work on all sorts of crazy electronic gizmos. Says you taught her all that stuff."

    Lorrie flashes a kitty-smile. "Yes! I taught my niece well. If I were to die of old age, Lele was to be one of the ''future elites'' who would supersede me. I am... glad she''s doing well. Thank you for taking care of her."

    "I take care of anyone under my employ," Jos�� says, gruffly. "Men, women, and children, too. Provided you can confirm for me that you are not my enemy, I will ensure your safety, too."

    Lorrie''s expression darkens. "Your enemy? No, Jos��. I am not your enemy. But... I would not call myself a good person, either. I am merely an individual who fell into a certain role and ended up making many hard choices. Those choices have affected my people for thousands of years. And now, after all this time has passed... well, I feel as if we might finally receive justice."

    "Justice?" Jos�� asks.

    "That''s right. Justice for the horrors we, the Kessu, have wrought... and justice for the horrors we''ve suffered. You may ask me any questions you like, Jos��. I will answer all of them to the best of my ability... so long as you promise to give leniency to Lele and all the other Kessu who had their minds wiped. They aren''t responsible for our past. I am. I and the others who lived on, enabling the Buzor in their plan to achieve a total galactic conquest."

    "You have my word," Jos�� says, smiling. "Besides. I kind of like cute kitty-cats. I''m not about to strike off their heads, you know."

    "I believe you," Lorrie replies, showing a toothy smile. "So, Jos��... feel free to ask away."

 Chapter 56: Kessu Legacy

    Admiral Rodriguez, Soren Mudrose, and their new Kessu companion, Lorrie, all sit together and speak in hushed voices. The Terran and Kraktol sit opposite Lorrie, with the former Kessu leader rubbing her paws together uneasily as she speaks. Some distance away, many other Kraktol and Kessu mill about, continuing to scavenge the Buzor''s former base, yet keeping a respectful distance from the Admiral''s impromptu discussion.

    "Tell me about yourself," Jos�� says. "You''re a Kessu from the ancient generation, yet you still possess your memories. Why weren''t they wiped along with the other Kessu? Why are you working with the Buzor? Why are you working with a Demon Emperor like Yama?"

    The black-furred Kessu licks her paw absentmindedly. "All of your questions have one simple answer. I didn''t have a choice or a say in the matter, mister Terran. The Kessu are no longer a free people, but captives slaving away at the behest of the Buzor. We''ve had no choice but to do as they ordered... until you showed up. No longer does the former glory of the Kessu shine in our eyes, nor can it. We suffered a betrayal, one which, in hindsight, we fully deserved, yet one which still pains me to this day."

    Jos��''s eyebrows jump in surprise. "You''re not working for the Buzor... willingly?"

    "We aren''t," Lorrie mutter, shaking her head slowly. "Three thousand years ago, the Kessu were, in every sense of the word, the leaders of the Milky Way. We enjoyed tremendous prestige, controlled all the levers of power, and possessed most of the Precursors'' cutting-edge technology. However, because of our glory, we also began to accumulate enemies. We oppressed the other Sentients, and in doing so, painted blood-red targets on our backs. I''ve spent the last two thousand years atoning for my sins. Few of my friends remain from the pre-captivity era. The rest died to old age and disease. Not even the Precursor life-extension methods could allow them to live as long as me. I haven''t a clue if I am lucky or unlucky to have survived this long."

    Soren presses her claws together. "I always thought the Kessu left the galactic scene to live peacefully on Tarus II for spiritual or religious reasons. Never did I imagine you were actually captured and taken here by force. How did such a politically influential and technologically superior species such as yourselves fall to mere political backroom dealings?"

    Lorrie''s ears fall flat. "I became my people''s leader some 2,500 years ago, during the height of our reign. For much of that time, all seemed to go well. We continued exploring, innovating, and inventing, all without a care in the world. However, due to my arrogance and conceit, I failed to notice the coming of a new era; the swelling of discontent boiling beneath my feet. Long displeased by the Kessu''s reign, the Dakkit sought to undermine our rule. They formed alliances with the other Sentients in secret while looking for an opportunity to overthrow us. That is when the Buzor entered the picture."

    Gesturing at the facility around her, Lorrie continues. "The Buzor located this world, Tarus II. Previously undiscovered by other Sentients, it was a world rich in Precursor ruins and artifacts. The Buzor, however, were largely ignorant and technologically illiterate. They could not make use of the artifacts present here, yet knew well enough that, given time, we Kessu would likely stumble upon this planet and seize its resources for ourselves. Thus, they made a proposal to the Dakkit, one which secretly benefitted them greatly..."

    Jos��''s eyebrows shoot up. "Let me guess. They would ''take care'' of you, allowing the Dakkit to seize power."

    "Meow! Exactly right!" Lorrie says, squeezing her eyes shut. She presses her paws against her ears and shakes her head furiously. "It all happened so fast, I barely even had time to react! I was discussing some unimportant matter with a pair of top-level Kessu executives when the Dakkit suddenly stormed into my chamber and arrested all of us! We protested and threatened them, but they knocked us unconscious and threw us aboard a transport ship. All across the galaxy, this scenario played out, with the Dakkit and Avaru and all the other Sentients arresting us and labeling the Kessu as dissidents."

    "By the time we realized what was happening, it was too late. We could no longer offer any resistance. Some Kessu escaped, only for the other Sentients to hunt them down and execute them. Guerilla forces surged and fell. The Dakkit gave us to the Buzor, all too happy to watch us wallow in misery. However, those stupid, short-sighted fools never came to realize just how cunning and deceptive the Buzor truly were! They never fathomed the depths a Buzor''s shamelessness could reach, and thus, they stopped paying attention to our plight."

    Lorrie sighs deeply. While she takes a moment to collect her thoughts, Soren lightly massages her crocodilian throat. "I see. At this point, I can guess what happened. The Buzor secretly shipped the Kessu to Tarus II and forced you to deconstruct and hide the Precursor artifacts, then instated this world as a ''prison colony'' for the Kessu. The rest of the galaxy eventually forgot about you, leaving you to suffer mind-wipes and enslavement in the Buzor''s clutches."

    "That... is right!" Lorrie affirms. "Some of the details aren''t quite right, but those hardly matter now. What does matter is the fact that my people have suffered as a result of our predecessors. We deserved the punishment we suffered, yet even so... I cannot rest easy. The Buzor have secretly solidified their power over the past two millennia. It won''t be long before they strike at the galaxy''s Core, wiping their enemies off the map! And it''s all thanks to that Demon Emperor."

    Jos�� slowly nods. His mind rapidly slides dozens of puzzle pieces into place, allowing him to fit everything into the bigger picture.

    "I think I understand, now. Warpgates were originally created by the Volgrim. However, they gave the access keys to humanity''s greatest enemy, the Demons. In doing so, the Volgrim gave demonkind a method to travel from the mortal realm to Hell, all so they could increase their fighting power inside solidified bunkers where humanity couldn''t reach them. Even so, we fought back and eventually crushed the demons. It''s just..."

    The Admiral hesitates. He shakes his head in annoyance. "I always assumed humanity destroyed the Warpgates, along with Hell itself. Who could know both had endured after all this time? Did our leaders lie to us?"

    "I have spoken to Yama on several occasions," Lorrie says. "He is a vile creature who made many predatory moves on me. He lusted after me, always telling me I would eventually become his servant. Even so, he never converted me to one of his Shades, since that would anger the Buzor. During our ''friendly chats,'' he would often discuss the past with nostalgia. According to him, the Precursors claimed they annihilated the Labyrinth of Hell down to its elementary particles via the usage of Trifrancium, but he did later discover that was a lie. In secret, the Precursors kept the Labyrinth around as a secret base of operations for certain militaristic factions."

    She continues. "Mraaaaw... likewise, the Precursors did not destroy the Warpgates. Instead, they turned them into a transdimensional travel network. They used the Warpgates only for the most top-secret of missions. After all, any Warpgate can connect to another, provided one knows the target''s spatial vectors. Beyond that, it is merely a matter of performing the necessary calculations before they will connect. Yama himself could not perform the necessary quantum math, nor could the Buzor... but we could. We Kessu were plenty advanced to achieve such a feat. And so, that led to the reason behind our enslavement."

    Admiral Rodriguez''s face scrunches up in disgust. "So they did lie to me. To all of us. Did I really fight for a noble cause?"

    "I am not the one who can answer that question," Lorrie says, shrugging helplessly. "Even after all of my unwanted discussions with Yama, he never spoke the true name of Terrankind. I suspect he wanted your species to fade from living memory, forever."

    Jos�� glances to the side, where his Kessu subordinates hustle back and forth, lugging around equipment in preparation to return to the surface.

    "Has Yama fled through the Warpgate?"

    Lorrie nods. "Undoubtedly."

    "I see," Jos�� mutters. "Then there''s no point in remaining here. I doubt we''ll be able to scavenge anything from this facility more advanced than what I have aboard the Bloodbearer. I must continue pursuing the Emperor of Shadows, yet I haven''t a clue where he might be. It seems that, in order to hunt him down, I''ll need to acquire the assistance of the other Sentients."

    Lorrie and Soren both fall silent. They glance at one another uneasily and shake their heads.

    "Admiral, I must object," Soren says. "That won''t work. The Mallali are too complacent. They will fear taking any risks that might upset the balance of power. If we were to reveal to them Yama or the Warpgates'' existences, I believe that they would throw you out and seek to placate the Buzor. They would not even attempt to hunt Yama down. In their eyes, he is but a single being, unimportant and unlikely to threaten them."

    "Yama''s threat level is not a terribly huge problem at the moment," Jos�� says, surprising Soren with his admission. "However, while his individual strength might not be enough to conquer the galaxy, his ability to convert others into unfailingly loyal subjects is a weapon the Sentients of this era cannot counter. As well, we must consider the knowledge he possesses. By Terran standards, I am not particularly old, but Yama has existed for well over a hundred million years, and that doesn''t count the entirety of Terrankind''s galactic dominance, or the eras of strife where we rose to power, and even before then! He is so ancient that I cannot even begin to fathom his existence."

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    "With a heretic like that skulking about the galaxy... I must go to any length to destroy him!"

    Jos�� rises to his feet. A look of determination smolders in his eyes for a moment before dissipating.

    "I may be the last Terran, but it is still my solemn duty to eliminate demonkind from the mortal realm. Yama is a foe too terrifying for the current Milky Way''s inhabitants to overcome. His treacherous words are like worms wriggling in the ears of those who give him heed. Already, he has wrapped his blackened fingers around the throats of the Buzor''s leaders. If I perish, he will continue to expand his influence until he seizes control of all the levers of power, leading the galaxy into an era of darkness."

    Shaking his head, Jos�� smiles. He gently pats Lorrie''s shoulder. "You have suffered tremendously. Your actions, and those of your predecessors, were certainly vile, but you have paid for your crimes tens of times over. I cannot, in good conscience, foist any further punishment upon you. Are you willing to return to my ship and live among your fellow Kessu?"

    Lorrie exhales. "I would like nothing more than to live the rest of my days in peace, great Precursor."

    "Good. Your fellow scientists were taken by the Buzor during their flight, and thus, remain in captivity. I offer my solemn vow to free them from their bondage. Not only shall I kill Yama, but I will also punish those who participated in his evil. The Buzor must pay for their barbarity."

    Lorrie rises to her feet, as does Soren. Jos��''s Second Officer nods at her Admiral with a satisfied smile. "What are your orders, Admiral?"

    "Finish clearing out this facility. Once we leave, I will bombard this mountain from space and bury the base for the foreseeable future. Then, we will begin our journey to the Core. With Drall assisting us, we need only seek an audience with the Mallali and Avaru to procure enough soldiers to complete my goal."

    Jos�� flicks his eyes around the room.

    "...Speaking of which, where is Drall?"

    Soren follows her Admiral''s gaze. "I do not know. Last I saw, we left him with Megla..."

    "Hm. Let''s go look for him," Jos�� says. "We''re about done here, anyway."

    The Terran and his Second Officer start to walk toward the crowd of other Kraktol and Kessu. Hardly has Jos�� taken a step before he pauses mid-motion, frowning.

    Inside the Terran''s head, Umi speaks.

    [Admiral Rodriguez. I have important information regarding Lord Drall of which I must inform you.]

    Despite the synthmind''s monotone voice, lacking all emotion, something about her choice of words catches the Admiral''s attention.

    [Yes? Go on.]

    .......................................

    Lord Drall and Gorlax Stormfang travel surreptitiously, keeping their heads lowered as they intermix with the other Kraktol and Kessu. Every so often, they split apart and casually stroll through the crowd, exchanging knowing glances with their most loyal and trusted subordinates.

    Good, good... Lord Drall thinks, as he nods at one of the First Group''s Kraktol soldiers. The young warrior nods back after flicking an uneasy glance in Admiral Rodriguez''s direction, then he presses his gun a little closer to his chest.

    Of the nearly one-thousand Kraktol who came with me, it seems that just over four hundred of them still remain loyal to their Th��lvik. Graugh! To think that three hundred would compromise their integrity for a chance to serve at the Terran''s feet. Counting those we lost in the earlier battles, a little less than half of my children have become enamored with Admiral Rodriguez.

    With only seven hundred Kraktol remaining, more than two hundred and fifty perished while fighting the Buzor. Lord Drall barely gives them any thought, seeing as how none of them were of any close relations to him.

    The Kessu will surely side with their Admiral. That means the number of troops still loyal to the Th��lvik will be severely outgunned. Hmm. I need to think of a way to tip the power balance in my favor. Once we leave this facility, I''ll lose my chance at eliminating the Precursor and seizing his vessel.

    Lord Drall tilts his head slightly. Not far away, a red-scaled Kraktol, Megla, catches his attention.

    Megla is the Bloodbearer''s second-in-command. That means if the Precursor perishes, she will possess his ship''s control codes. Perhaps I should take some time to remind her of her family ties...

    A callous smirk wiggles its way onto Drall''s face, but he quickly hides it before approaching his daughter.

    "Megla! Graugh, my daughter. What do you make of all this?"

    Having spoken to her a little while ago regarding the Warpgates, Drall decides to focus his attention on small talk. Megla, meanwhile, gazes into the distance absentmindedly.

    "Hm? About what, father?"

    "This facility, the Buzor situation..." Drall replies, casually gesturing with his claws. He squeezes his daughter''s shoulder affectionately, exposing a toothy smile while he speaks. "It has shaken me to my core! Why, I cannot believe the Kessu, once the feared leaders of the galaxy, would stoop so low as to work alongside the Buzor."

    "Mmm. Yes, father, it does seem like an odd choice," Megla says. "You were alive two thousand years ago, weren''t you?"

    Drall nods. "Indeed, as was the Th��lvik. However, given our position as slaves at the time, we knew nothing of these matters."

    "That''s too bad," Megla says, sighing. She plops down on an ammunition crate, shaking her head despondently. "We couldn''t capture the Demon Emperor, and now he''s escaped off-world. I can''t help but feel frustrated for the Admiral."

    Drall takes a seat beside his daughter. "This search for the Shadow Emperor seems oddly personal to your Terran friend. He always talks about his ''duty,'' but his pursuit seems more to me like fanaticism."

    Several seconds pass before Megla replies. "I don''t know. Maybe."

    "Is something wrong?" Drall asks. "You seem a bit moodier than usual. You can talk to me about whatever''s on your mind, you know. Your father is quite the good listener."

    "Well..." Megla mutters, hesitating before speaking. "It''s just... I don''t know what to do after we leave, or where to go. I''ve been following the Admiral for months now, ever since he killed Orgon. At first, I felt nothing but hostility for him, but then my opinion changed and we started growing closer... but then I let him down, and now... we barely talk anymore. He spends much more time with Soren than me."

    Lord Drall nods slowly while maintaining a passive expression. However, a savage gleam appears in his eye.

    "Ah. That is unfortunate. How did you let him down, if I may ask? If it''s sensitive information, you need not tell me."

    Megla quickly shakes her head. "N-no, it''s fine, father. I... well, maybe I shouldn''t say, but..."

    She pauses for several seconds, as if forcing herself to push past a mental barrier.

    "Not long before you arrived, the Admiral, Soren, and I... we had to rescue a bunch of Kessu trapped beneath this mountain. Not the ones in this facility, but the villagers who escaped Orgon''s initial attack and hid within a cave. That was how we discovered Yama''s existence."

    Megla continues speaking. She details the events that transpired after Orgon''s death, finally illuminating the past in a way that her father can understand, allowing him to piece together many missing details.

    "In the end, the Admiral succumbed to his wounds and... died..." Megla concludes.

    "Died?" Drall asks, confusion on his face. "Do... do you mean spiritually? He seems to be alive and well, now."

    Megla shakes her head. "No. The Admiral''s body expired on the operating table. He perished, and we seemingly lost him forever. It was only due to a secret involving his Terran biology that we managed to revive him, albeit without any of the memories after his awakening."

    "What? He revived from death?!" Drall asks, shock jolting his body. "Th-the Terran can return from the Great Beyond?!"

    "I wish that were the case..." Megla whispers. "But it isn''t. The man who walks among us now may share the same face as the Admiral, and he may even possess the same soul, but without his memories... he just isn''t the same. Furthermore, Admiral Rodriguez told Soren and I that he could only revive once. If he dies in the future, he won''t return again."

    Chilled to the bone, Lord Drall barely manages to conceal his horrified trembling. "I... I see. He can only revive once. Just once. That... that is good."

    "Good?" Megla asks, glancing at her father questioningly. "What do you mean?"

    "Ah, sorry, I spoke thoughtlessly, graugh!" Drall coughs. "It is only that... returning from the grave is too terrifying a power for anyone to possess! Don''t you suppose anyone who can achieve such a feat must be some sort of... abomination? Some existence reviled by the great ancestors?"

    Megla shrugs. "I don''t know. Perhaps."

    "Haha, you poor child," Drall says, while wrapping his arm around Megla''s back. He gives his daughter a light side-hug while smiling sweetly. "I understand your confusion. You know, Megla, as a warrior, you must learn to trust your instincts! Perhaps your unease regarding the Admiral is not unfounded."

    "Maybe you''re right..." Megla mumbles. "I don''t know, father. I don''t know what I should do."

    "Worry not. Life is often a confusing mess of twisted alliances, backstabbings, and misunderstandings. If you should ever decide to leave the Admiral, just know that your father loves you, and there is always a place for a warrior of your caliber at my side."

    Drall pauses for a moment. He gazes into the distance with a forlorn expression on his face.

    "...I haven''t always been the best parent, I know. I''ve been distant toward you, and haven''t raised you the way a father should. As you know, I am a busy person, one who serves the Th��lvik diligently. Still, I have paid attention to your progress over the years. I know the work you did for the Bork?n was harsh and unforgiving, but it forged you into the fine Kraktol warrior you are today! Why, not long before I came here, I spoke to Loreen about you and Soren and what excellent children you were."

    Megla''s eyes brighten visibly. "You did? The Th��lvik knows me?"

    Drall pauses for a moment before nodding. "Yes, yes, indeed! We spoke about both of you, but now that I think about it... it was you who Loreen regarded most favorably. Mmm, yes, it seems the Th��lvik found you to be a cunning warrior, especially given your exploits against the Dakkit fifty years ago. Serving under Orgon, you led an entire battalion to crush the Dakkit ambassador''s war fleet, thus earning us much prestige. Loreen expressed her intent to bring you to the homeworld where you could serve as an honored leader!"

    The more Drall talks, the more agitated Megla becomes. "I... I never imagined the Th��lvik even knew my name! That''s great! Kyargh!"

    Drall soothingly strokes his daughter''s back. "Yes, yes, and in good time, I do hope you''ll return, bringing with you tremendous prestige. However, you still have an important role to play, my beloved daughter. Regarding the Terran, I think you should continue to remain at his side. Trust is a difficult thing to earn, and the Terran certainly favors you in the same way as the Th��lvik does. There is no need to splash mud on the face of one''s ally, wouldn''t you agree?"

    Megla''s expression turns solemn. "Naturally, father. I would never let my Admiral down."

    Her reply irks Drall, but he doesn''t let his annoyance show on his face. "Err, yes, of course. I suppose it makes sense you''d favor him over your own flesh and blood..."

    "I didn''t mean that," Megla laughs. "Kyargh! Between you and the Admiral, if I had to choose-"

    Before Megla can finish her sentence, the sound of heavy bootsteps approaches, cutting her off. She turns to the right, where she spots Admiral Rodriguez and Soren approaching.

    "Oh, Admiral!" Megla says. "We were just talking about you! Did you find out anything useful from that Kessu scientist?"

    Jos�� slows to a stop and folds his hands behind his back. His expression seems colder than usual, striking Megla as odd.

    Ignoring Megla''s question, Jos�� tilts his head toward her father. "Lord Drall. It seems you''ve been quite the ''Chatty Cathy'' since we landed planetside. Do you have anything to say to me, or should I simply call you out right here and now?"

    Megla''s scales turn cold. She stares at Jos�� in disbelief.

    What is the Admiral talking about? Did my father do something wrong?

 Chapter 57: Lord Dralls Desperation

    Admiral Rodriguez and his Second Officer, Soren Mudrose, slow to a stop in front of Megla and Lord Drall. The Terran crosses his arms while staring at the seated Kraktol leader grimly.

    "Do you have anything to say to me, or should I simply call you out right here and now?"

    His words, though hostile, carry an air of amusement, as if he''s just caught a child with their hand in the cookie jar. He looks at the Kraktol commander not as an insidious spy, but like a buffoon who stumbled into something far outside his realm of control.

    Lord Drall''s heart immediately leaps in fright. However, as a long-lived old crocodile, he doesn''t allow even a flicker of emotion to cross his face.

    "Admiral Rodriguez? I do not understand, graugh! Is something the matter? You seem displeased."

    Drall remains seated, acting completely unmoved by the Terran''s bold words. Megla glances at him from behind, yet says nothing, instead frowning as she observes the exchange between her father and Admiral.

    "Don''t even try to play the fool," Jos�� says. "I''ve caught you red-handed. Honestly, I can''t say I''m surprised, but I am disappointed. I expected better from Megla''s father."

    Lord Drall scratches his head and blinks innocently. His voice takes on a tone of disbelief. "Graugh? I... I don''t know what you''re talking about! Caught red handed? Are you saying that I somehow offended you? I must say, that was never my intention! You told me that my soldiers could take any technology from the Buzor''s base that they found. If you wish to keep it for yourself, I won''t object, it''s just..."

    The Kraktol leader trails off, allowing his words to hang in the air. An implication lingers, one which implies the Admiral has verbally assaulted him without cause.

    Jos�� sighs. "...Alright. It seems you want to do things the hard way. Let''s play ball, then. Umi has already recorded your recent conversations in great detail. I know you''ve been going around behind my back, talking to the Kraktol and plotting to capture or kill me."

    As Admiral Rodriguez speaks, another burst of fear ignites in the back of Drall''s mind.

    What? He recorded me? But how?! None of our soldiers are wearing any recording-capable equipment! Could I have overlooked something? I was always careful when I spoke to-

    Drall''s eyes flicker to a nearby Kraktol commando, one of his average warriors who led the assault on the Buzor. In a flash, Drall sizes the soldier up, only for his eyes to fixate on the energy carbine held in the warrior''s arms.

    Gah. Stupid me! Fiftieth Era technology cannot be understood through common sense. Most likely, even mere weapons and armor taken from the Admiral''s ship must possess recording functionality. How could I be so blind?!

    Jos�� frowns. Even though Drall''s eyes barely flick away for a fraction of a second, the Admiral instantly notices the shiftiness in his gaze.

    "Since you seem hesitant to admit your deception, I''ll play your words back for everyone here."

    The Admiral flicks out a handheld datapad, taps a few buttons on its surface, and plays an audio recording of Lord Drall''s voice.

    "That''s right. I need to know if, when the time comes, you will stand by your vows to the Th��lvik, or if you''ll succumb to temptation from somebody you haven''t even known for a fraction of your life..."

    Lord Drall, upon hearing the recording, immediately leaps to his feet. "Audacious! I cannot believe your nerve, Admiral Rodriguez! You sure have guts!"

    Momentarily stunned, the Terran blinks twice. "...I- I beg your pardon? These are your own words, Lord Drall. Are you denying having spoken them?"

    The Kraktol commander snorts defiantly while puffing out his chest. "To slander me so viciously, it seems I misjudged you! I knew from the beginning that you were secretly wriggling your tongue inside the ears of my sons and daughters, but never did I imagine you would go so far as to slander me with outright lies! Falsified recordings and flapping lips; truly, a Terran''s mightiest weapon lies not in his blaster, but his words!"

    Several Kraktol take notice of Lord Drall''s outburst. They mutter to the others nearby and begin walking over, slowly swelling into a huge crowd. Amidst their ranks, countless tiny Kessu perk their ears up as well, not certain why Drall seems to be shouting so much.

    "You''re saying I faked this recording?" Jos�� asks, disbelief on his face. "I didn''t. The one you spoke to was your Fourth Group''s warrior, Kodon Muckfist."

    Jos�� turns his head slightly and picks out a black-scaled Kraktol amidst the crowd. "Kodon. Come here."

    The Kraktol hesitates for a moment before nodding. He wades through his brothers and sisters to stand between Drall and Jos��, clearly uneasy about their conversation.

    "Tell everyone what Lord Drall said to you," Jos�� says, smiling faintly. "Was this recording accurate?"

    Kodon Muckfist looks at the Terran for a moment. He flicks his eyes to Drall, who assumes an impassive posture. "Go on, Kodon. Let everyone hear the truth of the matter."

    Reassured by his leader''s confident posture, Kodon clears his throat. "...Graugh! Regarding this accusation... the Admiral is lying! I said no such thing!"

    Another Kraktol from the back raises her claw. "Kyargh! I will attest to his words! I overheard Lord Drall talking to Kodon! My father merely exchanged some pointers regarding Kodon''s earlier fight!"

    Drall snorts haughtily. "Harrumph! There, you see? The Admiral is lying! Did you think I would be too frightened by your Fiftieth Era technology, Admiral Rodriguez? Did you think I would be too afraid to call you out? I am an upright warrior of the Kraktol! When you asked for soldiers to pursue the Demon Emperor, was it not me who sought to deepen our relationship? I offered the lives of my beloved sons and daughters, and look at how you have repaid us!"

    Gesturing toward the crowd of assembled Kraktol, Drall beats his chest in grief. "Graugh! Nine hundred and fifty of my beloved children came with us on this mission, but now only seven hundred remain! I have lost so many of my spawn while helping you to selfishly pursue your most hated enemy, but what have I gained? Nothing! Even so, you cannot help but thirst for my children''s strength! You wish to steal them away for yourself!"

    Completely dumbfounded by this turn of events, it takes Jos�� a few moments to clear his thoughts. "...This is an interesting ploy, Lord Drall. So, you are claiming that I am making some big move to steal your warriors for myself? Am I hearing you correctly? I don''t care about your children. I can easily pursue Yama on my-"

    Before Jos�� can finish his sentence, Drall hurriedly interjects. "There it is, Admiral! You''ve admitted the truth! You don''t care about my children at all! To you, their lives are nothing but turds buried in the soil! No wonder you threw away their lives so flippantly; they never meant anything to you at all. Oh, how tragic! For you to cast my poor sons and daughters into the abyss, how could I be so blind? The Ancient Ones will never allow me to enter the Forbidden Swamp upon my death... you damned fiend! Your sin has become mine, ten times over!"

    Several Kraktol glare at the back of Jos��''s head. "Kyargh! Did you hear that? The Admiral doesn''t care about us in the least! All those days we spent training under him, but he never thought of us as anything more than warm bodies to throw at the Buzor!"

    "I should have known better. That Admiral barely even showed up; he always had Megla guide us in our training!"

    "Yeah! To think I even looked up to him!"

    "Truly despicable! I nearly fell for the Terran''s deception!"

    The clamoring voices heighten in intensity as many Kraktol glower at Jos��, enraged by his callous disregard for their lives.

    "No, that''s not right!" A Kraktol female shouts. She steps forward, revealing her aqua-blue scales. "My Darling would not betray us! I think my father has simply made a mistake."

    "A mistake?" Drall asks. "Sapphire, you unfilial child! I have raised you with love and care, even going so far as to make you one of my head officers, yet you dare to call my mental faculties into question? Do you think we are all blind and stupid? We know well how your doting gaze has landed upon the Admiral. You have fallen for his charms, and in doing so, betrayed your Th��lvik!"

    Several Kraktol nod vigorously. "That''s right. Sapphire has practically glued herself to the Admiral''s side. She''s too na?ve, falling for his deceptions so easily."

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Sapphire''s scales flush with color. "H-hey! Kyargh! So what if I possess feelings for the Admiral? He has treated all of us well. It''s not as if I''m calling my father''s morals into question, only his reasoning! Why don''t we hear my Darling out? I''m sure he has some evidence he can present."

    Jos�� nods. "Everyone, there''s no reason to become agitated. It''s not as if I was planning to attack or harm Lord Drall. I merely wanted to call him out on his skullduggery. He''s been skulking about behind my back during this mission, plotting and planning to kill me, all so he can steal my technology. Really, can you blame him? If the Kraktol were to seize my weapons, your power would certainly skyrocket among the other Sentients. Lord Drall has the motive, and I have the recordings of his whisperings. All the proof is right here for anyone to see."

    The Admiral holds up his datapad and waves it from side to side, while turning to look at the crowd. Several Kraktol hesitate, uncertain about who they should believe.

    Lord Drall''s irises narrow to slits. He eyes the Terran hungrily, wracking his brain over how to deal with the Terran once and for all.

    I cannot allow the Admiral to keep talking. I''ve already dug a hole. If I back down now, he''ll have every right to execute me once we return. I need to convince everyone to join my side now, while we still have him trapped underground. Seven hundred Kraktol should be more than enough to kill a single Terran while overwhelming his Kessu pets!

    The Kraktol leader starts to speak, only for one of the junior Kraktol to pipe up instead. "You''re lying, Admiral Rodriguez! I don''t believe you at all! You already agreed to cooperate with and assist the Kraktol in the future. Lord Drall has no reason to backstab you, given the circumstances. You, on the other hand, need crew for your ship! Those Kessu are too small and weak to serve as planet-side combatants, so you want to take control of us as your elite fighting force!"

    Drall''s eyes light up with excitement. Ah! One of my loyal subordinates! He picked a great time to speak! Now, the Admiral will have a hard time refuting his words. Indeed, to my sons and daughters, I really don''t have much reason to attack the Admiral. What a brilliant twisting of the facts. I must take care to promote him if we survive this ordeal!

    Jos�� hesitates. He glances toward the green-scaled Kraktol who spoke and shakes his head.

    "That''s wrong. I was planning to travel to the underground depths anyway, whether you Kraktol were here or not. Even if the Kessu aren''t your match in a physical battle, don''t you think with all the technology on my ship I could have overcome their shortcomings? I do not need the Kraktol to form a powerful fighting force. I am a Terran. Even the dullest stick can become a lethal weapon in my hands. Having experienced Megla''s training, which I previously imparted to her, you should all be crystal-clear on this matter."

    Many Kraktol glance at each other, nodding silently as they roll the Admiral''s words around in their brains, trying to counter them with what Drall said previously. Several looks of misgiving appear on their faces.

    "Furthermore," Jos�� continues, "if I needed to assemble a fighting force of Kraktol, why would I bother with simply training you in the Terran arts and praying you would retain a sense of loyalty toward me? Instead, I could covertly install nanites in your brains to turn you into unquestioning zealots. Trust me when I say such a feat is child''s play for any Terran worth their salt. Instead, I chose to work together with you out of goodwill, while Drall here tried to go behind my back. I didn''t forge any fake evidence; he''s lying, plain and simple."

    Compared to Drall''s grandiose gestures and emotion-laden speeches, Jos��''s simple and direct phrasing comes off as sincerely honest, lacking all fluff and frills. Several Kraktol scrunch up their faces in confusion, not sure who of the two leaders they should believe.

    Suddenly, one Kraktol female steps forward. "I... I have something to say! Father Drall, he came to me just twenty minutes ago. Kyargh! He started talking about some weird stuff, hinting that I should be only loyal to the Th��lvik and not to anyone else. I didn''t think much of it before, but now... it does feel a bit odd!"

    "Same!" Another male says. "Father approached me a few hours ago, shortly after our battle with the Buzor. He asked me something about how far I would go to follow the Admiral. When I told him I would follow the Admiral for the rest of my life, father looked very displeased! He immediately stopped talking to me and walked away."

    Within seconds, several other Kraktol chime in, adding more tales regarding Drall''s recent conduct.

    Upon hearing their words, Drall''s scales tremble with rage. "GRAUGH! You strife-sowers! In what way could my words be taken as an attack on the Admiral? I cannot believe you! I merely wished to know if you still bore loyalty to your Th��lvik, but listen to you! Such a simple question instantly put you on edge! If I didn''t know any better I would say... your loyalty has already evaporated into the wind!"

    Having heard enough, Megla speaks from behind Drall. "But father, you did ask those questions. Earlier, you said the Admiral''s recording was fake, but now you readily admit to saying such words. If you''re trying to turn us against the Admiral, then consider my disappointment immeasurable. Kyargh!"

    "The Admiral is not a bad person!" Grundle says. The former-weakest Kraktol steps out of the crowd and flexes his muscles. "I used to be a nobody, but now I am a proud Kraktol warrior! Given time, I may even walk among the elites, and it''s all because of the Admiral''s training. I stand by him!"

    "Traitor!" A nearby female Kraktol bellows. "You filthy soft-scale! Kyargh! You swore a vow to the Th��lvik to always uphold her as your highest existence! Such vows are not to be treated as wet paper, torn up when inconvenient. We must remember them even when the circumstances seem dire. I stand with my father! I stand with the Th��lvik!"

    She quickly crosses over to stand beside Drall protectively. Not long after, another Kraktol joins her, while a different one joins Grundle.

    One by one, a bit more than half of the Kraktol separate to both sides, some standing near their father, while the others position themselves before the Admiral. Even so, the remaining Kraktol look on from a distance, unsure where they should place their loyalties.

    Kisa, the Malvik, steps forward. Her body trembles as she looks from the Admiral to her father. "P-please! There is no need to fight! We mustn''t come to blows, for we are all family here!"

    "Family?" Drall echoes, as he shakes his head at Kisa. "I am your family, dear daughter. Those Mallali-lovers stand by the Admiral, betraying their Th��lvik. Such beasts do not deserve to be counted as ''family,'' let alone Kraktol."

    Many of the Kessu retreat to a safer distance, but still keep near the Admiral in case he needs their help. Rags flicks his kitty-eyes in the Admiral''s direction.

    "Mraww! What should we do? Should we attack? We can''t let the Kraktol hurt the Great Precursor!"

    "Let''s just watch and see what happens, kid," Ruuki says, flexing his muscles. He adjusts his thunder-gloves, readying himself to fight. "If things get nasty, take care not to get killed. I don''t want your mom and pop chasing me in the Great Beyond."

    Jos�� purses his lips. Seeing the rapid escalation of conflict, he shakes his head. "There is no need for us to fight. Lord Drall, let''s call it quits here. I will return to the Bloodbearer, along with anyone who wishes to join my crew. The rest of you can stay here and I''ll dispatch your ship to the planet so that you can return home, unmolested. I don''t want to hurt any of you, especially after you all just fought for my sake against the Buzor. We all have a common enemy, so let''s not get wrapped up in petty politics or power-plays."

    Lord Drall''s eyes flicker with anger. If the Terran leaves here alive, the Kraktol won''t be his allies any longer. Not only will we not have his ship in our possession, but we also won''t have him as an ally! Loreen will rip me apart when I return!

    A cold chill goes down Drall''s back. Realizing he has nothing to lose, he grabs hold of the last card in his deck.

    "Filthy Terran! Do you think you can get away so easily, after speaking such hateful lies? I didn''t want to say this, but you''ve left me no choice! You are a damned gravecrawler! Your real body died in the past, and the you standing before us now is nothing more than a ghoul revived through Terran sorcery! I''ve confirmed the matter already with Megla, your very own First Officer!"

    Drall turns to look behind himself at a visibly-stunned Megla. "Tell everyone, daughter! Tell them what you told me!"

    Megla''s eyes widen in alarm. Shocked beyond belief, she stammers awkwardly. "N-n-no, that''s not- I didn''t say that! Admiral, I didn''t mean to say that!"

    Jos�� furrows his eyebrows. "Megla! I can''t believe... I thought I told you not to say anything!"

    The red-scaled Kraktol balls her claws into fists. "It''s not my fault, Admiral! It''s... it''s yours! You barely even talk to me anymore! Since your revival, you just... you''re never around! Kyargh!!"

    Several Kraktol on Jos��''s side glance at him in horror. Their formerly iron-clad belief in his abilities shatter, making them take several steps away.

    "He''s a gravecrawler? I''ve heard of them! Accursed creatures! They never return to the Forbidden Swamp, instead roaming the void forever! No wonder he didn''t die with the other Precursors..."

    "How terrifying!" Another Kraktol says, her body shivering. "I can''t believe I never noticed the aura of death surrounding him. We shouldn''t let him live any longer."

    Jos��''s eyes twitch. "Aura of death? You''re acting a bit too superstitious about all of this. I didn''t use magic to revive, just science, and I can only do it once. I''m not some... immortal heretic. Sigh."

    "So you admit it!" Drall howls. "You did revive! There, you see? The Admiral is an undying monster! We cannot allow him to exist any longer! If we do-"

    "Shut up!" Grundle bellows, taking a menacing step toward Drall. "The Admiral is a good person! You, however, are a liar, Drall! A dirty liar! You keep twisting the Admiral''s words, and I''m sick of it! Say one more thing and I''ll take you on myself!"

    "Yeah!" Ruuki says, clapping his paws together. "The Precursor saved my people from you! If you wanna take him down, you''ll have to go through me!"

    "And me!" Rags yells.

    "Me too!" Another Kessu says.

    Several Kraktol and Kessu voices chime in, adding their support for the Admiral. However, with so many Sentients around, it becomes less and less clear just how many actually support the Admiral, and how many stand on Drall''s side.

    Hearing the voices of discontent escalate further and further, Drall glares viciously at Jos��.

    "Graugh. It seems there is only one way to settle this dispute."

    Jos�� shakes his head. "Don''t try it, Drall. You really don''t want to make an enemy of me."

    "You have left me no choice, Admiral."

    As the Kessu and Kraktol start yelling at one another louder and louder, several key players watch from the sidelines, unsure what to do.

    Megla retreats from Drall''s side, yet still lingers in his vicinity. Father, why are you agitating the Admiral? Do you have a death wish?

    Kisa pulls back, fearful of the fight she knows will soon erupt. Admiral! Father! I... I don''t know who''s in the right! Who should I help? What can I do to calm everyone down?

    Kilgore, the half-Algaru warrior, cautiously disables his weapon''s safety. If the worst comes to pass, I must protect the Th��lvik''s mate. Hurgh. Truly, the schemes of politicians always bring about the downfall of a species.

    Soren remains at Jos��''s side, impassively watching with her arms crossed. It doesn''t take a genius to figure out who will win here. Drall will be lucky to escape with his life. But... whose side will my sister choose?

    Sapphire, too, stays close to the Admiral. I''ll never abandon my Darling! How dare my father lie about him! And to think I once looked up to daddy dearest... I was such a fool!

    All of them prepare their hearts for the upcoming fight, yet they already know... there can only be one victor.

 Chapter 58: Clashing Kessu, Cornered Kraktol

    "Kill the Terran!" Drall bellows, while stabbing his finger in Admiral Rodriguez''s direction. "If any of you still intend to honor your Th��lvik''s commands, then heed mine now! Slay that undying monster at all costs! Do not let his envenomed tongue sway your minds! Graaaaugh!"

    "Kyargh!"

    "Graugh!"

    Hundreds of angry howls erupt amongst the Kraktol. A rainbow-array of scales surges at the Admiral and the Kraktol surrounding him, only to meet heavy resistance as those bearing goodwill toward the Admiral push back.

    "You''re courting death!" Sapphire howls, while slamming her fist into one of her sisters'' heads. "No one will touch my Darling! You''ll have to go through me!"

    "Admiral, I''ll protect you!" Soren says, her voice shaking slightly but not panicky. She activates her Survival Suit and takes up a position in front of him, setting her blaster to ''stun.'' "It''s too dangerous for you to stay here!"

    While two hundred Kraktol on Drall''s side clash with another two hundred on Jos��''s, the remaining three hundred split apart and look at one another anxiously, uncertain of what to do. Some of them join the melee after reluctantly making up their minds, while others simply give in to their primal instincts for the love of battle.

    The Admiral activates his dermal armor, making himself practically impervious to small-arms fire and melee attacks. He eyes Lord Drall from a distance and shakes his head.

    "Damn. What a mess. This is why I hate giving speeches. Evelyn was always better at this crap than me. Wish she could show up right about now and offer a helping hand..."

    His voice, tinged with melancholy, nostalgia, and a hint of sadness, melts into the throng of bellowing crocodiles without any fanfare. Jos�� watches as Megla moves closer to her father to shout at him.

    "Father! What are you doing? You have to stop! There''s no reason for us to fight. The Admiral is our friend... our benefactor!"

    However, her words fall on deaf ears.

    "He''s a gravecrawler!" Drall shouts, not even deigning to look at his daughter. "A vicious creature who has returned from the nether to kill us all. You may have fallen for his beguilement, but not this old Rodak! Third Group, sweep to the right! Strike at his blind spot. Fourth Group, raise your defenses and push forward!"

    "Yes, father!"

    "Yes, Lord Drall! For the Th��lvik!"

    Drall guides his loyalist platoon skillfully, weaving them across the hundred or so feet toward Jos�� while trying to take down the turncoats who have sided with the Terran. Within less than a minute, it becomes clear that some four hundred Kraktol have decided to align themselves with Drall, while the remaining three hundred choose Jos��.

    Just as Drall starts to maneuver his numerically superior forces into a pincer attack, the Kessu strike! Not content with seeing the Great Precursor surrounded, the tiny kitty cats leap into action, hissing and spitting as they swing their Thunder Gauntlets like wrecking balls, sending Drall''s soldiers flying!

    "I won''t let you hurt the Great Precursor!" Ruuki meows, before jumping at a Kraktol female and slapping her silly. He keeps his gloves at low power, but with enough striking force to batter her unconscious. "Skreow! You''ll regret making me angry!"

    Despite the raging crowds of allied and enemy Kraktol, the Terran Admiral doesn''t move a muscle. A look of boredom and defeat passes over his face. He rubs his glabella, located just above the ridge of his nose, and sighs.

    "It''s always some dumb idiot playing politics."

    Soren, fighting desperately to keep her brothers and sisters at bay, spares a look behind herself, only to see the Admiral looking just as unmoved as before, completely devoid of any fear or respect for the fighting prowess of his encroaching enemies. "Admiral! You must leave."

    "I''ll be fine..." Jos�� mutters. "You just... keep doing what you''re doing. Good work, Second Officer."

    He waves his hand flippantly, making Soren nearly spit blood from shock.

    Admiral! How can you be so flippant about this? Isn''t this pandemonium a bit ridiculous? Shouldn''t you try to quell the fighting or something?

    However, even as she returns her attention to the frontlines, Soren furrows her brow.

    What am I saying? The Admiral killed a Troll effortlessly. He didn''t even use any Terran augmentations. Now that I think about it, wouldn''t that mean this crowd doesn''t pose him the slightest threat? But if so, then what is his goal? Is he simply going to wait for everyone to kill each other?

    While Soren wonders why the Admiral is acting so disconnected, Jos�� himself frowns deeply as he looks around the rampaging battleground.

    Something isn''t right. Even if tensions have quietly risen without my noticing, it''s odd that Drall''s children would so eagerly turn their weapons on each other. Why does it feel like there''s more going on behind the scenes?

    Lord Drall suddenly raises his voice. "Sapphire! You disloyal child! Listen up! I shall give you a chance to repent! Strike down the Terran now, while you still can! If you do, I will forgive your earlier transgressions! Your crime against the Th��lvik has not yet become wholly unforgivable!"

    Positioned directly in front of Jos��, Sapphire doesn''t even bat an eye before bellowing back at her father, "Unforgivable, my tail! The only one who''s unforgivable here is YOU, father! For daring to bare your teeth at my Darling, I''ll never forgive you! Kyargh!"

    Summoning strength from somewhere deep inside herself, Sapphire roars loudly, then shoves away one of her brothers and one of her sisters. She dives through a momentary gap in the crowd and lunges toward Drall while pulling out a serrated knife.

    "You...!" Drall gasps in astonishment, seeing his daughter rush at him. "How dare you!"

    Just before Sapphire can clear the gap, a blur of green rushes at her from the side. Kilgore body-slams Sapphire and knocks the wind out of her, throwing her against the concrete with a heavy thunk!

    "Hurgh! I will not allow you to hurt the Th��lvik''s mate!" Kilgore yells. He raises his fist and brings it down like a hammer, knocking the crap out of Sapphire and slapping her snout against the floor.

    Three times, Kilgore strikes Sapphire, beating her down and stunning her senseless. However, when he raises his fist for the fourth time, he pauses mid-motion and flicks his eyes upward.

    "Hurgh?!"

    A quick cry of astonishment is all Kilgore can release before six Kraktol and twelve Kessu, all of them led by Ruuki, barrel into him. These newcomers slide around the primary mass of combatants and charge through the part-Algaru Rodak, stomping him underfoot while rushing at Lord Drall.

    The Kraktol leader widens his eyes. "Graugh! You dare?!"

    Ruuki hisses. "We do!"

    Seeing the unexpected group of enemies charging at Drall, Megla''s eyes widen in horror. "Wait! Stop! Don''t hurt my father!"

    She activates her survival suit and takes a protective position at Drall''s side, while he, too, flexes his muscles.

    "A herd of shit-furred Kessu and disowned children," Drall taunts. "Fine! Come at me! Show me what you''re made of!"

    The six Kraktol strike first. Enraged at their father''s lies regarding their benefactor -the Terran Admiral- they don''t hold back in the least. A rain of fists and kicks falls upon Drall and Megla, forcing them back. Megla''s survival suit whines a bit from the stress, but compared to the beating it took earlier from the Buzor''s attacks, her fellow Kraktol barely even manage to lower its battery''s power.

    Meanwhile, as one of the strongest of all Kraktol, Drall doesn''t even bother with a Survival Suit or armor of any sort. He towers above everyone except the Admiral, allowing him to forcefully take their punches like an adult fending off a group of toddlers. Within seconds, Drall''s fists send two of the four attackers concentrated on him flying, but only until the Kessu slink around and attack him from behind.

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    Rags, one of the Kessu children, summons energy into his Thunder Gauntlet. He pounces at Drall from behind and rears his paw back to strike.

    Thunk!

    Drall hurtles to the left and crashes into Megla. Sent flying by the sheer power behind Rags'' attack, he ends up knocked silly, unable to fathom the power behind that attack. Megla cries out in alarm as her father''s humongous body flies into her, but even when they hit the floor, she doesn''t suffer any injuries.

    "Kyargh! Father Drall!"

    "I''m okay..." Drall mutters, before his heart turns frigid. He whips his head to the side, only to see all of his attackers falling upon him.

    Thunk-thunk-thunk! Whap, whap!

    A hail of fists and kicks rains upon Drall, preventing him from climbing to his feet. He cries out in pain, then curls into a ball to try and protect his vitals. "Argh! D-dishonorable bastards! Gah! I am your father! I am the second highest Kraktol!"

    "You aren''t my father!" Ruuki yells, before slapping Drall''s head against the floor. He pauses for a split-second to frown. "At least... I sure hope not!"

    As the group of enemies gangs up on Drall, the other group, formerly much stronger than the Kraktol protecting the Admiral, discover themselves horribly outnumbered by Jos��''s loyalist Kraktol, as well as the thousand-plus Kessu who joined the mission. Rapidly, Drall''s forces find themselves on the retreat, unable to gain any ground, let alone protect their leader.

    Kilgore, seeing his commander getting the snot kicked out of him, jumps to his feet and starts to run to Drall''s side. However, he doesn''t make it three steps before Sapphire jumps to her feet and gives chase. She unslings a rifle from her back and takes aim at Kilgore''s figure.

    Blat-blat-blat!

    Three concussive rounds fire from her weapon''s barrel. They strike Kilgore and knock the wind out of him, sending him flopping to the floor. He fails to resist Sapphire''s savage blows as she jumps atop and beats him senseless, then turns her attention on Drall.

    "Kyargh... for trying to turn me against my Darling... there is only one punishment awaiting my father."

    A menacing gleam appears in Sapphire''s eyes. She stomps toward Drall while adjusting the settings on her gun. After setting its power to maximum, she increases her speed, clearing the short gap in seconds.

    Already weakened beyond belief, Drall no longer manages to even lift his arms to protect himself. He lays on the ground passively while his children and the Kessu take turns kicking him, acting more like a group of street thugs than a refined military army. Megla finally jumps to her feet and shoves a few of them away, but the sight of her father''s weakened body sends her into a frenzy.

    "Kyargh!! What is WRONG with you guys?! You''ve gone too far! I won''t forgive you, now!"

    Remembering her training under the Admiral, Megla''s eyes ignite with fire. She spin-kicks the remaining Kraktol, swats aside the Kessu two at a time, and hovers over her father protectively.

    "Lord Drall must pay for his crimes!" Sapphire shrieks. Vicious bloodlust appears in her eyes as she raises her gun to aim it at Megla. "Don''t protect him! Don''t even try!"

    Megla doesn''t flinch. "I don''t know what''s gotten into the lot of you, but it sickens me! There is no honor in this battle! Take your shot, Sapphire! But know that if you do, I''ll never forgive you!"

    "I don''t need your forgiveness. I need vengeance!" Sapphire yells. She shifts her aim toward Drall''s barely-conscious form.

    "That''s enough!"

    From behind Sapphire, Admiral Rodriguez finally reaches his breaking point. He uses a biomod to teleport to Sapphire''s side, then grabs her arm and forces it down.

    "Don''t shoot your own father, Sapphire," Jos�� says. "This has gone way too far."

    Sapphire glances at Jos�� in shock. "Kyargh! Darling! What do you mean? I''m doing this for you! Father must pay for his crimes! After everything you''ve done for us, he dared to-"

    "You aren''t acting like yourself," Jos�� says. "Nobody here is. You''re all rampaging around like goddamned lunatics. I find it hard to believe anyone here would go to such extreme lengths against their former commander, let alone their own father! You all need to stop with the violence, right this instant! Snap out of it!"

    Sapphire wrestles her arm out of Jos��''s grasp while scowling at him. "What do you mean? We are Kraktol! We live for war! Even if Drall is my father, I don''t have any qualms killing him after what he tried to pull!"

    "Just stop," Jos�� says. "That''s an order. If I wanted, I could have taken down Drall and all his loyalists by myself without breaking a sweat. I don''t want someone''s sons and daughters killing their father and siblings on my behalf."

    A moment of tense silence follows. The Kraktol and Kessu near Drall glance at the semi-conscious Kraktol commander warily, as well as Megla, standing over him. Ruuki takes a step toward Jos�� and raises his voice. "Mraww! Great Precursor, this isn''t just about you! Lord Drall is one of the Kraktol responsible for the attack on my people! Because of his orders, my entire village died! Not just mine, but several others!"

    "Alright, and what?" Jos�� asks. "You''ve been waiting to vent your anger on him? You''ve had plenty of time to voice your grievances to me. Lord Drall just helped us take out the Buzor controlling your people. Maybe you don''t want to admit it, but he''s done you a great service."

    As Jos�� speaks, the fighting around him continues to rage. Many of Lord Drall''s loyalists lay unconscious or severely wounded, unable to fight back. The rest retreat bit by bit with looks of hatred in their eyes.

    "I''d rather die than surrender to traitors!" One of Drall''s daughters shouts. "You''ve all betrayed your Th��lvik by siding with the Terran!"

    "At least I can see past the tip of my snout!" Grundle shouts, while pounding his chest. "The Admiral can lead the Kraktol to new heights. Lord Drall represents the old way, but only by following the Admiral will we achieve galactic dominance!"

    "You''re only saying that because you can''t stand the thought of remaining a glorified mechanic!" The same female retorts. "No matter how much you train, you will never become half the Kraktol as my father!"

    "Say that again! I dare you!"

    Contrary to the Admiral''s expectations, instead of calming everyone down, his words only serve to engender even more fury. Bewildered, he turns to the left, the right, and the left again, trying to figure out why the Kraktol and Kessu have turned so utterly crazed over this issue.

    Sapphire raises her gun. She ignores the Admiral and takes a menacing step toward Megla. "Get away from him, Megla! He''s mine!"

    "I won''t!" Megla replies. She grabs a gun of her own and takes aim at Sapphire. "Do your worst!"

    "Sapphire! Megla!" Soren yells. "Listen to the Admiral. Stop this foolishness!"

    Admiral Rodriguez tries to reason with Sapphire, but she ignores him, seemingly hellbent on ''punishing'' Lord Drall. Finally, some invisible line snaps in her mind, and Sapphire squeezes the trigger.

    Blat!

    A max-power shot fires from Sapphire''s rifle and strikes Megla''s chest, sending her flying. Megla''s Survival Suit takes the full brunt of the blast, sputtering as it stabilizes itself. She hits the ground some ten feet behind Drall, coughing as the landing knocks the wind out of her.

    Not even a second later, Sapphire squeezes the trigger again, lancing a bullet straight into Drall''s chest. The sheer impact of the shot shatters several of his ribs and slams the back of his head against the steel floor, while also sending him skidding backward.

    "Sapphire!" Jos�� bellows. Enraged, he slaps the gun out of her claws and throws her to the ground. "I told you to stop! Shit!"

    Hurriedly, Jos�� turns to run to Drall''s side to give him medical aid, but at that moment, a furious bellow erupts from the distance.

    "Father, no!! NOOOOO!!"

    Kisa, formerly frozen in place, finally ignites a piece of her fighting spirit. Her sanity snaps after seeing Sapphire''s brutality. In an instant, years of repressed anger and emotions unbottle in her mind, boiling a fury unlike any other.

    Boom boom boom boom!

    The Malvik stomps forward like a hurricane. Her huge body acts as a bowling ball, while the Admiral''s allies become the pins. She crashes into them full-speed without slowing down, sending them flying! Kisa flails her arms wildly, relying on brute strength to body-slam any other Kraktol out of her path. Many top-ranked Kraktol, those who scorned her weakness and ineptitude at combat, instinctively shrink back in fright as the Malvik storms through them without losing momentum.

    Jos�� turns to see Kisa rushing at him. "Shit!"

    Before he can react, Kisa shoulder-rams his chest, knocking him onto his ass. Even with his Dermal Armor active, he fails to stop her advance.

    "Fatherrr!!"

    The six Kraktol nearest Drall lose several shades of color in their scales. They brace themselves for impact, yet still go flying when she smashes into them.

    Boom!

    Kisa dives atop her father protectively, shielding him with her body.

    "Father! Daddy, daddy don''t die!"

    With a flourish, she whips out half a dozen healing implements, working quickly to try and staunch the bleeding.

    As she dresses Drall''s wounds, Kisa shoots a vicious glare at Sapphire. "You... you did this! How could you?! I hate you!!"

    Sapphire shrinks back. "I... I did the right thing! Our father-"

    "He''s not your father! Not anymore!" Kisa shrieks, as tears well up in her eyes. "I disown you! All of you! I am the Malvik, and I... I won''t let this stand!"

    Before Kisa can say anything else, Drall gurgles blood, spewing his life-essence to the side. "Koff, koff..."

    "Daddy!" Kisa says. She finishes patching the blaster wound, but to her horror, his vitals continue to wither. "Stay with me! I''ll save you!"

    Finally, the fighting slows to a halt. All of the Kraktol and Kessu slow their fists, pausing to look at the dying Kraktol commander.

    "Gra... graugh... Kisa..." Drall gasps. He grits his teeth, wincing as lava-like pain boils within his gut. "You... you came for me..."

    Kisa nods repeatedly. "Yes, daddy. I''m here. I''m here for you! I can still heal-"

    "Don''t bother..." Drall mutters. His eyes woozily open and close. "I''m not... I won''t... make it."

    After a momentary pause, Drall raises a shaky claw to caress his daughter''s face.

    "So beautiful... like... like your mother... graugh..."

    Kisa reaches out to grab her father''s hand. Just as their claws touch, the light fades from his eyes. Lord Drall, Second Commander of the Kraktol Empire, slumps backward, drawing his final breath while gazing into his daughter''s eyes.

    Kisa freezes up. She stares at her deceased parent, unable to fathom what has just happened.

    "No. No. No. Daddy? Daddy..."

    An eerie silence descends upon everyone present. No longer do any of the combatants, talk, yell, or scream. A strange feeling of despair and shame washes over them as many of the Kraktol on Jos��''s side retreat several steps.

    "What... what have I done...?" Sapphire asks.

    As if emerging from a daze, Sapphire''s eyes twitch uncontrollably. She frowns, then gazes at the floor, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

    "I... I did this? I killed my father? But why?"

    Sapphire turns to look at Jos��. She gazes into his eyes as if searching for answers.

    "Darling? What''s wrong with me? Why would I... do that? How could I..."

    Jos�� pulls himself to his feet. Unease plagues his mind as he sweeps his gaze around the Buzor''s facility. Unable to find anything out of the ordinary, he instead merely shakes his head.

    "I don''t know, Sapphire."

    "I don''t know."

    ...

    Far in the distance, a shadowy, smoke-like figure slithers into an air duct, and a feminine voice whispers to itself in a tone filled with glee.

    "Hehehe... Master Yama will be so pleased with me... his wisdom truly knows no bounds..."

 Chapter 59: A Bitter Departure

    A full minute of silence descends upon all of the Kraktol and Kessu. Stricken with grief, guilt, and confusion, Drall and Jos��''s loyalists alike look at one another, uncertain of what to do. Only Kisa''s choked sobs pierce the gloom, stabbing knives into the hearts of all present.

    Finally, Kisa speaks.

    "You... you killed him!" Kisa howls, her voice wracked with anguish. "You killed my father! Why? WHY?!"

    Kisa clutches Drall against her chest, oblivious to the body fluids spewing from his wounds. She seemingly wishes to breathe life back into his corpse, but sadly, her desire proves fruitless.

    "Daddy... daddy... it''s not fair... it''s not fair... you were always good to me... uhuhuuu..."

    Jos�� lowers his head and closes his eyes.

    I could have stopped Sapphire. I should have, but I didn''t. I never considered Drall a threat, but deep down... I did see him as a nuisance. I wanted him to die, and so, I reacted too slowly.

    Of all the Sentients here, perhaps more than Sapphire herself, I hold the greatest blame for Drall''s death. I feel nothing toward Drall''s departure from the mortal plane, but despite this fact, I do feel terrible for Megla. She cared for her father, even if he acted somewhat distant toward her. As an Admiral, I have failed my First Officer.

    Eventually, Kisa''s rage wins out over her grief. She gently places Drall on the floor, then whirls around to point a claw at Sapphire.

    "You... YOU!! You did this! You killed my father! Kill yourself! End your life as recompense for what you''ve done!"

    Sapphire lowers her head in shame. Her scales lose much of their coloration, while she avoids Kisa''s gaze.

    "I...I didn''t mean..."

    "I don''t want your excuses!" Kisa roars. She takes three steps toward Sapphire and lunges out her claws to grab at the blue-scaled Kraktol''s neck. "I want your BLOOD!"

    "Kisa. That''s enough," Jos�� says. In a flash, he appears between Kisa and Sapphire. "I know you''re enraged. You have every right to feel such raw emotion. However... you''re not in the right state of mind-"

    "Don''t get in my way, Terran!" Kisa hisses. A menacing gleam appears in her eye. "I trusted you. I liked you, and now look what you''ve given me! Heartache and loss! My father is dead because of you! If you hadn''t stepped up and run your... your lying mouth...!!"

    Jos�� winces. "I didn''t lie, Kisa. Your father intended to kill me. He made plans-"

    "Would he have succeeded?!" Kisa interrupts. "Are you not the almighty Terran, the last living relic of the Precursors?! Even if my father tried his hardest, could he have even harmed a hair on your head?"

    "...Probably not," Jos�� mutters. "But that''s not the point. Look around you, Kisa. You''re angry, but so is everyone else. Hasn''t enough blood soaked the soil today? Two hundred and fifty of your brothers and sisters fell to the Buzor, and now your father has perished due to infighting. Do you want to add another sister to the dead?"

    Kisa narrows her eyes.

    Despite the Malvik''s current anger, a small piece of herself manages to remain sane. She takes a step back from the Admiral and nods slowly, her death-glare still locked on his face.

    "Good. Good. That''s right. Why should I have Sapphire kill herself? Better to bring her back to Dragua. I''ll punish her there! I''ll string her up and lash her scales until they turn to mush!"

    Jos�� sighs. "That isn''t quite what I meant, but..."

    Before the Admiral can say another word, Sapphire stretches out her arm and gently touches his shoulder.

    "Kyargh. Thank you, Darling. But please... don''t interfere. It''s not your place."

    Hesitantly, Jos�� nods, then takes a step back. He keeps a wary eye on Kisa, whose gaze immediately turns malevolent. "You''re not going to hide behind the Terran?"

    "I''m not," Sapphire says, still looking at the ground. "I cannot apologize enough for what I''ve done. So, why bother? Kill me, Kisa. My sin is too grave for me to continue living."

    Sapphire''s voice carries not even a hint of emotion. Her expression is that of a dead woman, someone who has lost all her will to live. Having slain her own father, the Kraktol who personally guided and raised her, she no longer feels worthy of living.

    Kisa balls her claws into fists. "Don''t tempt me. Right now... I want nothing more than to... to..."

    Without warning, Kisa lunges forward. She brings her fist down like a hammer, battering Sapphire backward. Several nearby Kessu and Kraktol yelp in surprise before retreating several steps. Frightened beyond belief, they watch with widened eyes as Kisa jumps atop Sapphire and punches her head from left to right.

    Thunk! Thunk! THUNK!

    Over and over, Kisa pummels Sapphire, who doesn''t even make any effort to resist. Jos�� watches from the side, gritting his teeth as he resists the urge to interfere. Not only him, but Soren, Megla, and all the other Kraktol avert their gazes, unable to watch the raw brutality on display.

    "Ahhhh!!" Kisa screams. She grabs Sapphire by the throat and squeezes with all her might, intending to crush her larynx. "You... you ungrateful, worthless sister!! I HATE YOUUU!!"

    Still, Sapphire doesn''t fight back. She hangs limp in Kisa''s grasp, allowing the Malvik to throttle the life out of her.

    "Kuk... kuk... I''m sorry, Keesuh... I''m... I''m sorr..."

    After several seconds, Kisa''s eyes snap shut. She releases Sapphire, then scurries backward in a reverse crabwalk.

    "I... I can''t do it... I can''t do it, daddy... I''m too weak..."

    Sapphire, barely drawing breath, falls unconscious from her injuries, leaving Kisa to weep and cry a river of crocodile tears. All the while, the Admiral watches without interfering.

    .......................................

    An hour later.

    Admiral Rodriguez slowly walks around the main lobby of the Buzor facility. Some distance away, a series of bodies lay in columns and rows, with hundred of Kraktol and Kessu intermixed. Drall doesn''t rest among them, however, as he instead lays before Kisa on a cot with a cloth shrouding his figure.

    Gorlax Stormfang and the part-Algaru Kraktol, Kilgore, wait in silence for the Terran to approach. Beside Jos��, Megla and Soren follow him, though Megla appears nearly as lethargic as Sapphire.

    The Admiral slows to a stop before Drall''s former top officers.

    "Gorlax. Kilgore."

    "Hurgh. Admiral..." Kilgore says, crossing his arms. "How do you intend to deal with us? Execution? Hard labor? Enslavement?"

    Kilgore''s emotionless listing of various capitol punishments makes Jos��''s eye twitch, but the Admiral doesn''t give the matter much thought.

    "No. I understand the greed which inevitably arises when observing someone in a better position than yourself. In the past, were we still living in the era of the Terrans, I might simply slay you right where you stand. But now? I don''t think it''s my place to do such a thing. You are not and were not ever my equals. Compared to you, my technology practically makes me an invincible god. I fear that any act of retribution would condemn me in the Creator''s eyes."

    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    Gorlax nods slowly. "Graugh. Then... does that mean you will not punish us?"

    "In a manner of speaking," Jos�� answers. "Before, you assisted me in combating Yama and the Buzor. Drall did this while seeking to obtain my favor and potentially forge an alliance. Due to his greed, that option has long since left the table. Now, your only reward for journeying to meet me is two hundred and fifty dead Kraktol and the loss of a powerful leader. I believe that should be punishment enough."

    "Admiral," Soren interjects. "You did also train the Kraktol for several months. Therefore, I do not believe my people have earned nothing at all. A Terran''s training is priceless. Nobody else in the galaxy has ever earned such a reward."

    "Ah, that is a good point," Jos�� concedes. He turns to Gorlax and Kilgore, then nods. "There, you see? Your journey here was not entirely fruitless."

    Both Kraktol leaders nod in unison.

    "Hurgh. Still, looking back, I must apologize for Lord Drall''s schemes. I went along with him, and thus deserve no pity. Even so, you have chosen to spare me. I will engrave this magnanimity upon my heart."

    "As will I," Gorlax says. "Twice now, you''ve spared me. The first time was when you could have chosen to destroy Orgon''s fleet, yet didn''t. Truly... you Terrans are supremely moral beings. I feel... deep shame... for my actions..."

    Jos�� chuckles. "Haha... it''s easy to act benevolently when one possesses ultimate power. After all, I have little to lose when none can threaten me. It is only when a man has something to lose, something precious, that he will show his true colors."

    A hint of realization appears in Gorlax''s eyes. "I see. You... you are even wiser than I first thought. It is my deepest regret that I didn''t decisively abandon Orgon and Drall to serve at your side. Soren and Megla... they are far more intelligent than I will ever be."

    "I appreciate the compliment," Soren says dryly.

    Megla''s scales flush with color. A look of unease washes across her face, but she opts to stay silent.

    Jos�� notices Megla''s strange body language, but maintains his focus on Gorlax and Kilgore. "I will take the Kessu and return to my ship. Any Kraktol who did not turn against me are free to join my crew. As for the rest, they can travel with you to Dragua aboard the Red-Tongue. I will activate its autopilot and send it down to the surface as soon as possible. I''m sure you understand, but I won''t feel comfortable allowing you aboard my ship."

    Gorlax hangs his head. "I understand, Admiral Rodriguez. You have my endless gratitude for showing a spineless, weak coward like me such undeserved mercy. Graugh!"

    "My gratitude as well," Kilgore growls.

    ...

    After saying his farewells, Admiral Rodriguez turns to head over to announce his decision to the other Kraktol and Kessu. However, before he travels fifty feet, Megla clears her throat.

    "...Kyargh! Admiral... I have something to say."

    Jos�� pauses midstride. A look of sadness sweeps across his face before he turns around to look at his First Officer.

    "Go on."

    Megla averts her eyes, unable to meet the Admiral''s gaze.

    "I''m sorry, Admiral... but I cannot stay with you any longer."

    Soren stays silent, merely observing her sister from the side.

    "May I inquire as to why?" Jos�� asks.

    "I think you know the reason," Megla murmurs. "From the very beginning, it was Soren who followed you. She dragged me along, while I merely stayed for various reasons. We had many good times together... but in the end, I was never quite as loyal as my sister. I am sorry, Admiral, but seeing my father die..."

    Megla beats her chest in grief.

    "It hurts, Admiral. It really hurts. I never knew my father that well. I only spoke to him once or twice, and finally, when I got to spend several months with him, it was as if I had tapped into a mystical spring of love and devotion unlike any I''ve experienced before. I trained with him... I taught him battle techniques, while he taught me about our people''s rich history... and now, he has fallen. I can''t go on pretending everything is okay. I wish to return to Dragua so I can attend his funeral."

    Jos�� purses his lips. "If you feel that I resent you, Megla, for choosing his side... I don''t. You are free to remain my First Officer. I would never blame you for siding with your flesh and blood over me."

    "It''s not that!" Megla shouts, her body tensing up. She suppresses several emotions and finally looks Jos�� in the eyes. "All this time... it was always Soren at your side! I''m not smart. I''m not a genius. You and Soren have always gotten along well, but me? I''m just... I''m a failure! I couldn''t even protect you from Yama."

    "Sister..." Soren whispers. "You weren''t the only one to fail the Admiral. He died because of me. I chose to seek you out in the caverns instead of saving the Admiral''s life. You cannot blame yourself for his death."

    "I can! And I will!" Megla bellows, causing many nearby Sentients to glance in her direction. "I was too weak... too stupid! I can''t do anything right. I can''t even protect my own father. I don''t deserve to stay here, and so, I won''t. I''m leaving, and neither of you can change my mind."

    Several seconds of silence follow. Megla presses her claws against her eyes, weeping uncontrollably as she heaps ever more self-hate onto her psyche.

    The Admiral, unsure of what to do, merely nods his head.

    "I... I think I understand, Megla. Very well. If you wish to leave, I won''t stop you. Just know that I don''t blame you for anything that has transpired. Not even my former self''s death."

    "You might not..." Megla whispers, "but I always will."

    Megla''s shoulders sag. Without another word, she turns on her heel and trudges away, not once glancing backward to look at her Admiral.

    A long silence follows.

    Jos��, no longer certain about anything, slowly turns to look at Soren.

    "And you?"

    Soren smiles.

    "As I''ve always said, since the very beginning, Admiral. I''ll follow you no matter what."

    "I see. Thank you, Soren," Jos�� replies, smiling back.

    Even if everyone else abandons him... there will always be one who remains.

    .......................................

    One day later.

    A spacecraft descends from the sky. Shaped like a trident, the Red-Tongue descends to the former Kessu village, where three hundred Kraktol stand at attention and wait. Behind them, two hundred and fifty bodies lay in lines, waiting for someone to load them aboard the descending ship for their final journey to Dragua, where they will be buried beneath the planet''s oceans, forever.

    Kisa Kindris stands with Megla Brighteye, Gorlax Stormfang, and Kilgore. All four of them watch as the Red-Tongue drops onto its landing pads, then slowly lowers its entry ramp.

    "Sapphire returned to the Bloodbearer with the Admiral..." Megla mutters. "Are you okay with that, Kisa?"

    The Malvik stares at her father''s ship with dead, empty eyes.

    "Why would I be? It doesn''t matter, Megla. Our father is dead. Sapphire''s blood won''t bring him back. Nothing will."

    Megla nods. "He wouldn''t want that, anyway."

    "No. He wouldn''t."

    The four Kraktol elites remain at their positions, merely observing as the other Kraktol haul the dead bodies aboard the Red-Tongue, one by one.

    "Hurgh. I wonder if Admiral Rodriguez will manage to kill the Shadow Emperor..." Kilgore muses.

    "He will." Megla says. "My Admiral may not be invincible, but he is unstoppable. I have faith he''ll succeed."

    "Your trust in the Terran is commendable," Gorlax mutters. "I''m surprised you''ve decided to return with us. Standing at his side, you''d have earned numerous accolades, fought countless glorious battles, and cemented yourself in the annals of history. To cast such a fortuitous encounter aside... tsk."

    "You wouldn''t understand," Megla says. "It isn''t that I hate the Admiral, but that I... I love him too much. He died, you know. He died. Just like my father. When he awoke, he wasn''t the same. I let the man I loved perish... and now, what remains of him is a shadow of his former self. All our memories... all the experiences we shared... they disappeared along with him."

    Megla smiles wryly. "The truth is, I''m selfish. I wanted the Admiral to stay as he was when I first met him. But he didn''t. He changed, and so did I. I resented not only myself, but him as well. I resented him for dying, for leaving me behind, and for returning as a totally different person. Even so, even after all the changes he''s experienced... I would still give my life for him. I just can''t stay at his side any longer. My chest hurts too much for me to bear."

    Kisa glances at her sister. "Megla..."

    She reaches down and intertwines her claws with Megla''s. Both of them meet each other''s gazes, then laugh and wipe their tears away.

    "How can we go on when we''ve lost so much?" Megla asks. "I just have to hope I''ll find something new... a new reason to continue living."

    Kilgore shakes his head.

    "...Hurgh. Women."

    ...

    Several hours later, all the Kraktol finish loading the deceased aboard their vessel. They carefully preserve them inside cryogenically sealed makeshift mortuaries, then begin the standard pre-flight checks and other takeoff procedures.

    As the crew of the Red-Tongue prepare themselves for the long voyage home, a curious anomaly occurs. Several hundred feet from the Red-Tongue, a single solitary figure skulks about in the shadows. A hideous creature, the last of its kind on Tarus II, sneaks around in the waning daylight, its hungry eyes gazing upon the giant spacecraft.

    "Kekeke... lookie, lookie! Master Yama told me an opportunity would reveal itself! What a lucky break! To think I could make myself useful to my master, even after losing contact with him, kekeke!!"

    The shadow-creature, a female Shade, slithers toward the Red-Tongue. Its crude, ancient hull, devoid of all the safeguards any advanced 50th Era vessel might possess, practically begs for an infiltration.

    "Well... I won''t rest on my laurels! It would be such a shame if I let my chance at greatness slip away! Master Yama will surely reward me for assisting him from afar!"

    Like a creepy, crawly spider, the Shade suddenly pounces at the Red-Tongue, adhering to its hull without any effort. She slides around on its surface, then cackles to herself as she finds a poorly-welded seam in the hull, one just big enough for her to slip inside.

    She transforms into a substance similar to gas, then seeps inside the vessel mere moments before it ignites its thrusters and takes off to the stars.

    "Silly humans. Silly Kessu. Silly Kraktol! They actually think they can defeat the greatest Demon who has ever lived. Pahaha! What a great joke! They haven''t seen anything yet..."

    The Red-Tongue rockets out of the upper atmosphere, leaving Tarus II behind.

    The pristine world gleams in the void, its presence a reassuring reminder that even in a hostile galaxy, there are always places where one can find peace.

 Chapter 60: Half a Decade (Arc 6: Meeting the Mallali)

    Admiral Rodriguez and his newly promoted First Officer, Soren Mudrose, stand on the Bloodbearer''s Bridge, gazing through its windows at the gorgeous green and blue planet ahead of them. A nearby monitor silently visualizes the Red-Tongue''s trajectory as it takes off, vanishing into the void without any fanfare.

    "We will head to the Core Worlds now," Jos�� says, his emotions muted. "I must seek help from the Mallali if I am to combat Yama."

    "Yes, Admiral..." Soren says. Her gaze becomes distant for a moment as various emotions surface on her face. However, she quickly pushes them down to focus on her duties. "I recommend charting a course to Enchillon."

    "Enchillon..." Jos�� mutters. "Interesting. Is that the Mallali home world?"

    Soren shakes her head. "Not exactly. It''s the capital of the Milky Way, as defined by the Sentient Alliance. All species are free to travel and congregate there. Even us Kraktol. However, the Senate is most likely the place you will need to visit. All of the top Mallali congregate there most of the time. Each one owns vacation homes on their home worlds, but Enchillon is, without a doubt, one of the three most prosperous worlds in the galaxy. Many would kill to live there."

    "Mmm..." Jos�� mutters, saying nothing else.

    After a moment, Soren glances at him. "Admiral? Are you familiar with Enchillon?"

    "Am I? Very much so, yes. That''s where Nick was born."

    "Nicholai Azaram? Your best friend?"

    Jos�� nods slowly. "Yes. Enchillon was a prosperous world, indeed, but buried under its surface lay countless seedy organizations. Like me, Nick had a rough childhood. He learned at a young age just how despicable certain Terrans would willingly act, so long as it meant amassing credits or satiating their... carnal desires."

    Pursing his lips, Jos��''s gaze hardens. "I was the same way. After suffering for my entire childhood, a recruiter for Ramma''s Chosen happened upon me. He saw the anger in my eyes and thought a young boy like myself might possess some aptitude for killing. He was right. I did."

    "And so did Nicholai, I''m guessing," Soren mutters. "You two met while working for Ramma''s Chosen?"

    "We met in the Academy, yes."

    Jos�� pauses for a second. A smile creeps over his lips as his mind drifts to the past.

    "Haha. That bastard got assigned to be my roommate. I must have hated his guts more than humanity''s heretical enemies. We butted heads so many times, people thought we would rip each other apart before we ever saw live combat."

    "But you didn''t," Soren notes. "What changed?"

    "We got put on a mission together; our initiation test. However, it wasn''t play-acting or some elaborate drill. It was the real deal. We came under fire. I flinched. Nick didn''t. He pulled me away even with three bullets in my gut. Dragged me ten miles back to the safe zone. I nearly died from blood loss. After that... well, I decided he wasn''t as bad as I first imagined."

    Jos�� shakes his head. "It''s funny. All those petty squabbles we endured. All those vicious words and slurs we flung. In the end, all it took was one life and death situation to bring us together. That''s the thing about Terrans, Soren. Nothing brings out our true nature quite like looking Death in the eyes, then spitting in her face."

    "You... you must miss Nicholai terribly..." Soren whispers.

    "Yep. But what can I do? I can''t reverse what''s already happened."

    The Admiral chuckles. "You know, Soren... we Terrans have a saying. You die twice; the first time when your body expires, and the second once somebody speaks your name for the last time. Nicky-boy hasn''t died yet. He''s still here with me, in my heart. As long as I remember his face, his words, and his wisdom... he''ll remain alive."

    Turning to look at his subordinate, Jos��''s expression becomes contemplative.

    "You should have gone with your sister, Soren. I know you care about me. I know you want to follow me... but she''s your closest relative. Someday, one of you will die, leaving the other behind. Don''t you think it would be better to stay together and enjoy the good times? To build up pleasant memories?"

    Soren nods. "Kyargh. Yes, Admiral. But... I promised you I would follow you no matter what. I meant what I said."

    "Why?" Jos�� asks. "Are you hoping to obtain control of my technology? To learn everything you can from me? Are you hoping to bed me? What''s your motivation?"

    Soren''s scales flush with color. "Kyargh! Admiral. Your words are... quite crude."

    She hesitates for a moment before continuing. "However, if you must know... I don''t think I have an answer. I spent my whole life following orders, doing whatever a commanding Kraktol ordered. In the end, I felt as if I had gained little and wasted my time. On the other hand, after meeting you, I felt as if I had experienced something new. Something profound. Your method for dealing with Orgon was... very different from anything I''d seen before."

    She continues. "I believe it was your compassion which ultimately swayed me. Any Kraktol with your abilities, knowledge, superior biology, and weaponry, would have crushed Orgon and slain all his crew without batting an eye. A Kraktol''s pride is their greatest weakness. It is illogical to kill others simply because they are weaker than you. Certainly, if you wished to prevent a promising talent from surpassing you, or if you feared someone''s potential, that might be a decent reason. But you spared everyone except for Orgon, stating that he was at fault for committing genocide."

    "I see..." Jos�� says, musing quietly to himself. He rubs his chin thoughtfully. "I''m fine with you staying, Soren. And don''t worry. Megla can return whenever she likes. I don''t blame her in the slightest for departing. She seems to feel incredible guilt, as if she''s betrayed me, but in the end I was only her Admiral. I am neither her owner nor yours. You two are free to do as you please."

    Glancing meaningfully at his new First Officer, the Admiral adds, "You, too, may leave whenever you like, for as long as you want. If you ever wish to take an extended vacation to Dragua, just say the word. If you wish to see Megla again, do not bring my feelings into the equation. The last thing I want is for either of you to feel sad, trapped, or lonely."

    "I''m sorry, Admiral," Soren says, "but you can''t get rid of me that easily. I wish to remain by your side while you accomplish amazing feats. I will remain there until one of us dies or you command me to leave."

    "So be it, then..." Jos�� replies.

    After another minute of chit-chatting, Jos�� waves his hand vaguely at the Bridge''s windows.

    "Alright. First Officer Soren, set a course for Enchillon. Adjust the Inverted Space time dilation to its minimum settings so we can get there in the least time possible."

    Soren nods. "Yes Admiral. One moment."

    She walks over to the navigation console, where two Kessu officers sit, along with three holographic Terran personnel. After taking a seat, Soren''s claws burst into a flurry of movement. She pauses just before activating to gasp in shock.

    "Admiral! What... what is the meaning of this?"

    Slightly alarmed, Jos�� hurries over to her side, only to raise his eyebrows in confusion.

    "What? Is something the matter?"

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Soren nods slowly. "Yes. These numbers can''t be right. Why does the time dilation matrix state that we will require five years to travel to Enchillon? Don''t you think that''s a bit much?!"

    Jos�� laughs. "No. Not at all. Remember, Soren, Inverted Space allows the Bloodbearer to travel to any position in the universe instantly, when going by galactic real time. However, the time dilation bubble around the ship will allow the requisite amount of time to pass inside the ship, meaning we will still require a similar amount of time to pass as if we were traveling at Warp 6. Enchillon is several thousand lightyears away. Last time, we barely traveled fifty lightyears from the plasma cloud to Tarus II with time dilation set to maximum. That decision gave us plenty of time to complete our repairs. However, now we are traveling tens of times further."

    Jos�� cocks his head. "How long did you think it would take us to reach Enchillon?"

    Soren shakes her head. "I don''t know. A few months, maybe. I didn''t give the matter much thought. Goodness, it''s no wonder you Terrans chose to enter stasis. Five years!"

    "Well, five years is actually quite a short voyage," Jos�� comments. "If we were to travel across half the Milky Way, we would require twenty, thirty, or perhaps even forty years to reach our destination. That would be a bit excessive, even for us long-lived Terran elites."

    "I see..." Soren says. She shakes her head and chuckles wryly. "Your people truly confound my view of common sense. Every day, I learn something new."

    After pressing several more buttons, Soren activates the Bloodbearer''s jump drive. Seconds later, they enter Inverted Space, and the galaxy around them disappears.

    Soren stares out into the void, noting the absence of any stars.

    "We''ve successfully enter Inverted Space, Admiral. This time... we didn''t experience any hiccups with the inertial dampeners."

    Jos�� smiles, then squeezes Soren''s shoulder. "Good work, Number One. Now, come with me. We need to start working on improving crew cohesion."

    Soren rises to her feet. She falls into position beside Jos�� as he strolls off the Bridge, then heads down the hallway, passing many Kessu and even a few Kraktol.

    "Crew cohesion, Admiral?"

    "That''s right," Jos�� replies. "What happened in the caves was... well, it was a goddamned shame. If Drall hadn''t plotted behind my back, he wouldn''t have torn the Kraktol in half. Those who remained are most likely my most ardent, fanatical supporters. This may sound good on the surface, since it means they''re unlikely to betray me, but it also is likely to lead to infighting among the Kraktol and Kessu. They may start vying with one another for my attention."

    Jos�� continues. "The Kessu seem to revere me as some all-knowing god. They think of me as an invincible existence, someone who is morally pure and infallible. I need not tell you what a ludicrous concept that is. As for the Kraktol, they regard me as their true leader, someone who raised them from the bottom to the top. Any perceived slight toward me is likely to result in violence, with many actively working to ''protect my name''."

    Soren frowns. "Admiral, I find it hard to believe that all of the Kraktol would end up as your diehard supporters. Surely, some of them are mere opportunists? Some might be scoundrels who betrayed the Th��lvik in the hopes you would lead them to greater glory. Don''t you worry that such opportunists could turn against you in the future?"

    "Naturally!" The Admiral replies. "Anyone who betrays their old commander might backstab their new one. I can have Umi scan their brains to search for deviant thoughts, but such actions are likely to cause permanent damage. Unlike when I simply had Umi wipe the memories of Orgon''s crew, a memory search would be an invasive procedure that actively retards their current and future development. Only a heartless pirate would resort to such measures to ensure the loyalty and cohesion of his crew."

    "Then what do you propose we do?" Soren asks.

    "Haha... it''s simple," Jos�� says. "We... make lots of friends!"

    Soren blinks twice. "Huh? Admiral? What do you mean?"

    "You heard me. I''m going to turn this ship into a vessel of comrades. Team-building exercises. Daily training on the holodeck. Festivities. Fun for everyone. We should work to build camaraderie within the crew. Within the next five- no, the next three years, I want everyone working together as a well-oiled machine. By the time the Bloodbearer leaves Folded Space, we should already be the deadliest vessel in the entire Milky Way."

    Soren glances at her commander. A newfound sense of awe fills her gaze, as if seeing another incredible side of him she never noticed before.

    Such a simple solution. He makes it sound easy, but how simple can merging two wildly differing species into one big family be? Surely, there will be countless pitfalls and hurdles along the way.

    Jos�� turns his head to the side while he walks. He eyes his First Officer and chuckles. "Let me guess. You''re thinking this won''t be easy."

    "That''s right, Admiral. Certainly, you''ve shown that the Kraktol and Kessu can set aside their differences for a while... but under the surface, there are countless angry Kessu who will never open their hearts to those who slew their families. Frankly, I cannot blame them, either."

    "Trust me, Soren..." Jos�� says. "Terrans spent the first hundred thousand years of our existence learning how to turn blood-enemies into blood-brothers. We know better than anyone how to switch irreparable hatred into undying loyalty. I once hated Nicky-boy enough that I nearly killed him in his sleep. All it took was one life and death experience to soften my heart. You might find the Kessu and Kraktol much more amiable when placed under similar circumstances."

    A few minutes later, Soren and the Admiral arrive in the lowest deck, where the reacquired Titan battlesuits rest against the walls, countless Kessu crawling all over them to check for damage, repair subsystems, and clean them up to perfect working order.

    The Bloodbearer''s two leaders quickly tell everyone on deck about the upcoming team-building exercises, then leave to head to the hangar bay. There, they find a large number of Kraktol resuming their pre-Tarus II expedition work to fix up the remaining combat and auxiliary vessels inside the Bloodbearer. The Admiral and First Officer once again explain their future plans while receiving attentive nods in return.

    After repeating this pattern across more then two dozen decks and major facilities, Jos�� pauses to look at Soren.

    "Are you alright? You''ve been letting me do most of the talking, the past few times."

    Soren blinks her eyes, seemingly shaking off some unsettling thoughts. "Ah. Sorry, Admiral... I was just thinking, that''s all."

    "About what?" Jos�� asks.

    "You."

    "Me?"

    Soren nods. "Yes. I can''t help but... but worry for your safety. You''ve made an enemy of my Th��lvik. She''s going to fly into a rage when she finds out about Drall''s death. Not only that, but you''ve also refused to become her ally. What if she starts plotting against you in the background?"

    Jos�� shrugs. "What if she does? Should I be worried? The Kraktol may have a colossal army of ships, but they''re all Third Era relics. Even the junkiest Fiftieth Era garbage compacter could outrun them, shrug off all their attacks, and blast them out of the sky."

    "Admiral, the Bloodbearer is certainly an ungodly powerful war machine, especially now that it''s almost returned to full power. However, the Mallali are not weaklings. They possess many Twentieth, Thirtieth, and even a few Fortieth Era vessels. If amassed properly, they might be able to threaten you. If Loreen Kindris were to work her claws in the shadows..."

    "Let her," Jos�� says, waving his hand flippantly. "I''ve dealt with countless schemers and backstabbers over the years. In one on one combat, I''m unmatched. That was the case during the Terran era, and it''s sure as hell true now. Not only am I superior biologically to the Milky Way''s current inhabitants, but I also possess weaponry far mightier than anything they can fathom."

    The Admiral chuckles. "I''ll act politely so long as they do the same. If anyone pisses me off, though... well, what have I got to lose? I''ll just show them why Terrans are the scariest monsters in the galaxy."

    Jos��''s words only serve to worry Soren more. "You say that, Admiral, but... you already died once. You''re not invincible."

    "I died to a Demon Emperor," Jos�� replies, his smile vanishing. "Don''t think your Th��lvik can compare to a Demon Emperor. Nobody can. Even forgetting his magic, Yama''s body is a hundred times more durable than any Kraktol''s. I unleashed the full potential of my psionic energy and barely even wounded him. I hurt myself more than I did him!"

    He clicks his tongue. "It''s a goddamn tragedy, but what happened, happened. If I could go back in time to fight Yama again, I would in a heartbeat. Considering how underprepared I was, though, I don''t think I could have won. Next time will be different. Next time, I won''t fail."

    Soren sighs. "I admire your mental fortitude, Admiral. I wish I had half the faith in myself that you did."

    "Don''t worry. I have more than enough faith in you to make up for any deficiency on your side!" Jos�� replies.

    Soren smiles and shakes her head, but doesn''t reply. To her, the Admiral''s words are merely polite, not deservedly sincere.

    After they resume their course, they continue informing the crew about the upcoming team-building exercises, then slow to a stop at the Bloodbearer''s rear. The humming of the jump drive engines makes their internal organs quiver slightly, but otherwise, not a soul stirs.

    "You know..." Jos�� says, "this vessel used to be a weapon of war. Through it, Ramma''s Chosen launched countless attacks on our enemies. We overwhelmed them with fighter squadrons and attacked their worlds with the Titan battlesuits. But... that was in the past. I wonder if I''ve let its old roots color my thoughts too much."

    "What do you mean?" Soren asks.

    "I just think that maybe I ought to look into reworking how the crew of the Bloodbearer see it. What if I set aside petty power struggles and, instead, simply focused on building camaraderie forever? This ship could be a fantastic home for the Kessu to regain their species'' vitality. Outside the constraints of space-time, we could rapidly pass several hundred years and explode the Kessu population, then return to repopulate Tarus II. Wouldn''t that be nice?"

    Soren nods. "I suppose it would. But what about Yama?"

    "Yeah... Yama..." Jos�� murmurs.

    The Admiral gazes at a corridor wall, staring off into the distance.

    "I guess I''ll have to take care of him first. The other stuff can come later."

    With a wave of his hand, Jos�� turns to walk away.

    "You''re dismissed for now, Soren. I''m going to go handle some things. I''ll meet you in the cafeteria later."

    "Yes, Admiral..." Soren says, nodding at his back.

    After the Admiral leaves, Soren sighs.

    "I hope this all works out."

 Chapter 61: Year One - Conflict

    Admiral Rodriguez slowly walks through the lower decks of the Bloodbearer, a datapad in his hand, performing routine maintenance on the Bloodbearer''s coolant systems. Dozens of thin steel pipes line the walls, each one sending liquid nitrogen and other similar compounds to various parts of the ship.

    As the Admiral walks, he taps the datapad, holds it up to the wall, waits a moment, then walks a little further down the wall before repeating the process again.

    After several minutes of slowly inching his way down, a beeping noise emits from the datapad.

    "Mmm. Found it..." Jos�� mutters. He pulls out a toolkit and gets to work cutting into the steel wall with a delicate nano-laser-cutter. He slices through with a fiery beam, then digs in and pulls out the wall''s core to reveal a batch of fried internal wiring.

    "Tsk. Looks like we''ve picked up some unwanted passengers from Tarus II..." The Admiral grunts.

    Inside the wall, dozens of tiny little bugs skitter around, none of them resembling the xenotypes which originated from Terrankind''s motherworld. Some of them appear as amorphous jelly-like blobs, while others resemble octopii with dozens of giant eyes on their head.

    The bugs scatter and flee as the Admiral reaches in and activates a small canister of poison gas. He exterminates the majority of them, but more than a few scurry deeper into the wall through cracks they previously burrowed.

    "God damnit," Jos�� sighs. "They''re eating the para-cabling. Fuck. Little assholes. It''s always something... Umi, assign a level 4 cleanup and extermination team to this area. Make sure they move thoroughly."

    "Affirmative, Admiral," Umi says from above. "I will dispatch five Kessu crew at once. By the way, Admiral, I have this month''s Crew Assimilation Reports ready, if you would like to see them."

    Jos�� stares, annoyed, at the wall for a moment before nodding his head.

    "Crew reports... sure, why not."

    Umi transmits a series of images and graphs to his brain.

    "The Kessu and Kraktol crew you brought aboard nine months ago have reached a 45% assimilation level. Numerous petty fights over territory still occur daily, with some of them turning to violence, but First Officer Soren has managed to quell the uprisings each time. We''ve punished the dissenters and subjected them to Bonding Exercises on the holodeck, which has produced favorable results."

    "Hmm... seems we''ll hit fifty percent by the year''s end..." Jos�� says. "It''s better than the twenty percent we started with. I hope that by the time we reach the Core, this crew will have finally united."

    Jos�� flips through the injury reports and shakes his head. "These two crew members involved another group of people in their dispute. Subject them to one level of extra demerits. Also, these three caused a huge mess in the lunch hall, wasting rations needlessly. I want them all working together in the kitchen, scrubbing dishes for the next month."

    "Yes, Admiral," Umi replies. "However, given that we have holographic personnel to take care of those duties..."

    "Manual labor is good for the soul," Jos�� answers. "I''ve met the instigator of that fight before. He thinks he''s a real tough croc, picking on little Kessu. If we force him to scrub dishes with them, it might humble him a bit and make him think twice the next time he picks a fight."

    "I understand, Admiral. I will assign the tasks at once. Regarding Disciplinary Officer Baaru''s work with the personnel, I would also like to report a 5% increase in her Officer Familial Rating. It seems that she has earned the respect of more than 75% of the crew with her swift and decisive actions. She acts fairly and impartially when arbitrating disputes, according to the monthly crew polls I have received."

    "Good. I knew Baaru was up to the task. And what about Patriarch Nyoor? Have we found any usable life extension treatments for him?"

    "Affirmative, Admiral. I have researched and uncovered three possible methods with crew member Lele''s assistance. We estimate a ninety-five percent possibility of extending crew member Nyoor''s lifespan by ten years, a thirty percent possibility of extending it up to fifty years, and a five percent possibility of extending past sixty years."

    Jos�� sighs, long and hard. "Only five percent... if his bones and body weren''t already so severely aged, the extension methods would prove more effective. Well, even another ten years will be a blessing for him. Do what you can, Umi."

    "Orders received, Admiral."

    Umi falls silent, while Jos�� continues pulling out the dead bug corpses.

    Twenty minutes later, the pitter-patter of paw-pads reaches Jos��''s ears. He turns to see a group of five Kessu walking toward him.

    "Meow! Meow! Big Baldy!" One of the Kessu calls out.

    Jos�� turns to look at them. "Lele! Rags! How are you kittens doing, eh?"

    The male Kessu meows at Jos��. "We''re doing well, Great Precursor! Mroww!"

    When Lele draws closer, she drops a toolkit on the floor, then bounces over to Jos�� and hugs his leg excitedly. "I haven''t seen you in forever, Big Baldy! Meow! Meow! Have you heard the good news??"

    Jos�� pets her head affectionately, making sure to scratch her ears. "Haha, specifically?"

    "My daddy met a nice lady from one of the colonies they rescued! She''s gonna be my new mommy! She''s super nice, likes to cook, and has really pretty orange fur!"

    "That''s great news!" Jos�� says, smiling broadly. "You and your dad deserve some happiness. Do you get along with her?"

    Lele pulls away. "Of course! Although..."

    Her ears flatten slightly.

    "Well, I mean, I do worry my real mommy might not be... she might be angry. I don''t know if it''s okay for daddy to... you know..."

    Jos�� maintains his smile. "Your mother would want your father to be happy. Someday, when you and your dad go to join her in the Great Beyond, she''ll be happy to meet you both again, as well as the woman who captured his heart a second time. Just think of it as expanding your family. You have to enjoy all those wonderful moments in life so you can make your mother proud."

    Lele''s ears prick back up. "You think so? Okay! I''ll make sure she and daddy are both happy, then!"

    "That''s what I like to hear," Jos�� says. "Now, since you two are here, I''ll show you the work I need done."

    ...

    An hour later, Jos�� trudges through the Bloodbearer''s shuttle decks. He spots a group of human-shaped robots, each one slightly smaller than him, working on renovating one of the Bloodbearer''s 50th Era exocraft.

    "Synthmind 4131," Jos�� says. "Status on the shuttle upgrades?"

    The nearest robot turns to Jos�� and nods its head. "Admiral Rodriguez. This synthmind has finished repairing [SEVENTY THREE POINT NINE] percent of the vessels inside the Bloodbearer''s shuttle bays. Additionally, I have upgraded the firepower and maneuverability of several combat-type interceptors by a magnitude of [ONE POINT THREE]. I estimate that if we were to go by the standardized performance ratings of the [FIFTIETH] Era, these vessels would qualify as [FIFTY-FIRST] Era fighters."

    Jos�� pauses mid-step. His jaw drops.

    "What did you say? You upgraded their effectiveness to the point that we could consider them 51st Era spacecraft? Are you joking with me?"

    Synthmind 4131 stares at the Admiral unblinkingly. "Negative. This synthmind is not programmed to emulate Terran humor. I have increased the speed and maneuverability of several craft by more than [THIRTY-ONE] percent, and their ship-to-ship firepower effectiveness ratings by more than [FORTY-SEVEN] percent. While I have not been able to add any new combat features, thus preventing them from counting as true [FIFTY-FIRST] era vessels, in terms of performance improvements, they certainly reach a level comparable to a new era of firepower."

    The Admiral''s throat momentarily turns dry and chalky. A strange look appears in his eyes before he lowers his head to fall into thought.

    "Every era''s advancement of technical capabilities required a tremendous amount of time and research to make even the slightest headway. Advancing from the 49th Era to the 50th Era took much longer than advancing from the 48th to the 49th. To say you''ve made a monumental improvement in a short time would be to undersell your accomplishment. Just... just how exactly did you do it?"

    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    Synthmind 4131 continues to stare blankly at the Admiral. "As a self-improving bio-vessel, my ability to combine and compound existing technologies for the sake of my advancement must be exceptional. With some assistance from First Officer Soren and Crew member Lorrie, I was able to make several breakthroughs in my internal algorithms. Had they not contributed several important observations to my queries, I would have required significantly more time to complete my task."

    Admiral Rodriguez eyes the robot for a moment, nodding to himself.

    "It seems I underestimated your capabilities, as well as Soren and Lorrie''s both. Keep up the excellent work, 4131. It seems that as an Admiral, I''ve still much to learn."

    "Affirmative, Admiral. I will return to my designated task."

    The robot turns away from Jos�� to continue improving the vessel in front of it. After a few moments of quiet, satisfied sighing, Jos�� turns and walks away.

    "Not merely one, but multiple 51st Era interceptors. What insanity. I never thought I would be able to witness the advancement of a technological epoch in my lifetime. The 49th Era required 400,000 years of human advancement to break through to the 50th, while I was only born 50,000 years afterward. Logically speaking, the 51st Era would have required at least another 350,000 years, if not far more, to arrive."

    Jos�� pauses. He slows to a stop in the middle of the hangar bay, a distant look in his eyes.

    "...Just what exactly is the Slipstream? To advance its capabilities from the 14th Era to the 50th in only a year, and then to improve an entire technology''s epoch in even less time... its origin can''t be simple. Who built it? And for what purpose?"

    Jos�� chews on his lip, but eventually gives up, unable to think of a good answer.

    "Probably some genius scientist with a brain far beyond mine. Too bad he''s long since died to the passage of time. All good things must eventually end."

    ...

    The Admiral continues walking the ship, checking readouts, chatting with the crew, and otherwise keeping himself busy. With so many areas of the Bloodbearer still needing maintenance and repairs, there''s never something aboard his ship that doesn''t need doing.

    As Jos�� rounds a corner, his augmented hearing picks up a disturbance in the distance. The sounds of male and female voices shouting drift toward him, making him scowl.

    "Another fight? Blasted cats and crocs. Can''t you guys just get along?"

    Jos�� picks up his pace, power-walking to the scene, where he enters a room to find half a dozen Kessu and Kraktol egging on a pair of people growling and hissing at each other. On one side, a grey-scaled Kraktol, one whom Jos�� instantly recognizes as Grundle, shakes his fist at his smaller opponent, a female tabby-cat Jos�� doesn''t recognize.

    "-from me!" The Kessu meows. "That was my multitool, mraaaw! Give it back!"

    "I didn''t take your multitool, graugh! Stupid Kessu!" Grundle chuffs. "Why would I take a tool I don''t even know how to use?! You''re just trying to blame me for your bad memory!"

    "I saw you nab it with my own eyes! Are you calling me a liar?" The Kessu hisses. "If you don''t give it back, I''ll sicc Ruuki on you! He''ll clean your clock real good!"

    Jos�� steps forward and raises his palms. "Alright, you two. That''s enough. Tell me what happened."

    Grundle, seeing his idol appear, momentarily becomes tongue-tied. Having risen from the absolute bottom of Kraktol society to his current heights as Jos��''s subordinate, he carries a deep reverence for the Admiral within his heart. Before he can start to plead his case, the Kessu interjects.

    "I''ll tell you what happened! This slimy worm-face went behind my back and stole my ding-damn multitool! I need that for repairs! I can''t believe the nerve of these Kraktol, they''re always so sneaky and conniving!"

    The Kessu''s casual insult makes Grundle lose some of the color in his scales. "Look, lady, it''s like I said. I never took your multitool! I don''t even know how to use them! Why can''t you just listen to reason?! Graugh!"

    Jos�� rolls his eyes. There are always troublemakers in any group...

    Out loud, he says, "Umi, pull up the internal recording logs for this section. Who took the multitool?"

    Umi replies immediately. "Admiral, according to the logs, nobody did. Crew member Keela left it in her quarters."

    The Kessu blinks in surprise. "...I did? Nuh-uh! There''s no way! I definitely remember bringing it with me! I set it down on those benches over there!"

    "Incorrect. The multitool you brought with you was not your own. Three days ago, you picked up crew member Ghibli''s multitool, in addition to your own, and brought them back to your quarters. You have been using Ghibli''s multitool for the past three days, perhaps in error. As such, Ghibli spotted the tool, recognized that it was his, and took it back. He is now working in the Planetary Assault Bay."

    Keela''s face turns crestfallen. "W-wait... I''m the thief here? Mraw! That''s... ah! I am so sorry, Grundle! I didn''t mean... I shouldn''t have...!"

    Jos�� sighs. "Any crew member can request logs from the publicly-accessible areas. In the future, check with Umi before jumping to conclusions. I''ll have to punish you for your unfounded accusations toward Grundle. Join up with the crew in the mess hall to scrub dishes for the next two weeks. I trust you will know what to do after that."

    Keela''s ears fall flat. "...Yes, Great Precursor."

    Jos�� groans to himself, then continues on his merry way. As he starts to leave the area, he hears the stomping of feet behind him.

    "Admiral! Admiral!" Grundle shouts excitedly. "I''ve been super busy lately, but um... thank you for your help back there!"

    Still walking, Jos�� merely turns his head and nods. "Any time, Grundle. I see you''ve kept up with your physical training. By now, you''ve probably reached a strength comparable to former First Officer, Megla."

    The short, lean, muscled Kraktol nods as he falls into stride beside the Terran. "Graugh! I work every day according to your training regimen. However, I have recently started feeling stifled. It feels as if... as if I have reached some sort of plateau in my strength. It seems no matter how hard I try, I cannot break past the B-class simulations. I know the movements of most enemies, but my body cannot keep up with them. Admiral, do you have any training methods that can help me push past my limits?"

    Finally, Jos�� stop walking. He turns to Grundle, then narrows his eyes. All sorts of ocular implants activate in Jos��''s eyes as he sweeps his gaze up and down the Kraktol''s body.

    "...Hm. I underestimated your resolve. You have indeed achieved the peak level of strength that your body can handle. At this point, you can only increase your fighting potential in small ways."

    Grundle''s excited smile fades. "Oh. Graugh... then... is this the strongest I will ever be? Will I be stuck as I am now for the rest of my life? What about Kisa? She was way stronger than all the rest of my people. Surely, there must be some way I can match up to her, Admiral!"

    Jos��''s expression turns grave. "Indeed, there is. Originally, I assumed I wouldn''t need to use it until the third or fourth year. However, since you have asked, I must warn you now... the next method will be ten times more painful than any previous training you''ve undergone. Are you willing to suffer immeasurably, so long as it will result in breaking through the limits of your biology?"

    The Kraktol stares at Jos�� intently. His expression becomes both solemn and serious as he nods.

    "Graugh. Of course, Admiral. I would give my life to protect you. As I am now, I will never be capable of shielding you, let alone matching your power. No matter how dangerous the training, I will work myself to the bone for you."

    Jos�� smiles. A sense of warmth spreads through his heart as he quietly rests his hand on Grundle''s shoulder.

    "Truly, you are a rare gem, Grundle. For you to have slaved as a mere mechanic under Drall all those years... tsk. What a waste."

    The Admiral takes a deep breath, then turns away and continues to walk.

    "Grundle. What is the most important mental ability a soldier must possess?"

    "Willpower, sir," Grundle replies, remembering Jos��''s previous lessons.

    "That''s right. Willpower and fortitude. One must be willing to spit in the eyes of pain and death. Fear is a tool one can use to temper themselves. Fear is merely an instinctive reaction the body releases to make one aware of gaps in power between themselves and their opponents. Willpower is what makes that same warrior capable of pushing past the fear to become unstoppable. A truly terrifying warrior will kick, claw, and bite even when they have no hope of winning."

    Jos�� pauses to take a breath.

    "Your initial training is complete, Grundle. Your body will no longer increase in strength at any sizable level, no matter what you do. However, if we were to... augment your capabilities... you might find that your frail body has merely completed the first step of its biological evolution."

    "Admiral?" Grundle asks, confusion mixed with hope. "You are augmented. Do your words mean that...?"

    "Correct. I will make you the first Kraktol to obtain augments similar to mine," Jos�� replies. "But... do not immediately rejoice. I am not a scientist. I am not a biologist. Any records the Bloodbearer might possess regarding Terran biology will surely prove all but useless when it comes to your Kraktol biology. This means that creating functional implants for you will require time and effort."

    Jos�� leads Grundle to the nearest medical bay, but stops just outside the door.

    "To augment your body, we will have to dig into the very core of your muscles and bones. We will have to perform horrific, agonizing experiments on you for the sake of locating the most effective places for implants to lodge themselves. This means you will become a guinea pig, a subject we experiment on who may even die from the sheer trauma of these operations. Worse yet, we can only perform these surgeries on someone like you, who has attained the peak of his body''s power. We cannot use someone with underdeveloped and untrained muscles. Any experimentation on such weak-bodied subjects will result in useless garbage data, rendering them useless for boosting your might."

    For a moment, Grundle says nothing. He merely eyes the Admiral resolutely before nodding.

    "I understand."

    "Do you?" Jos�� asks, turning to look the young Kraktol in his eyes. "I have suffered the agony of a Level Four surgery. Luckily, that was in my past life, and not my newly revived body. I believe such agonizing pain would have caused me traumatic nightmares and shellshock for weeks afterward, if not months and years. Frankly, if you don''t think you''re up to it, you should back out now. You already rival the top tiers of pure Kraktol power. To go any further will require immense sacrifices on your part. You will not achieve the strength you seek without suffering long-lasting mental scars."

    Grundle closes his eyes and bows his head.

    "I know what I must do, Admiral. Whether I live or I die, everything I have achieved and will someday achieve is all due to you. I must repay you for the gifts you''ve given me at any cost. The only way to do so is if I become a pillar upon which you can rely. Graugh! I have made up my mind. Do whatever you must, but make sure you succeed. If I die on the operating table, I will never allow my soul to enter the Forbidden Swamp in peace."

    Seeing the resolute look in the young Kraktol''s eyes, Jos�� merely nods.

    "So be it. Umi. Request assistance from crew members Lele and Lorrie, as well as Officer Soren. I will need their technical expertise for this surgery."

    "Affirmative, Admiral. I believe that with their assistance, the installation process''s chance of success rests above 30%."

    Grundle stares at the medical bay blankly.

    "...And if the operation fails? Will I die?"

    "The likelihood is low. Instead, you will potentially become a cripple, unable to fight ever again, restrained to a hoverchair."

    Grundle blanches. He glances at Jos�� and clears his throat.

    "I will pray to the Kraktol Ancestors that you succeed, Admiral. Graugh!"

    "As will I," Jos�� affirms.

 Chapter 62: Year Two - Competition

    More than a thousand Kessu and Kraktol crowd together inside the Bloodbearer''s largest facility, its Holodeck. Even with the chamber''s incredible size and ability to deceive the senses, its ability to contain more than a fraction of the ship''s crew proves limited. With so little space to sit in the spectator stands, many Kessu opt to sit on the laps of their far-bigger Kraktol comrades. Having spent nearly two full years together, most of the barriers between species have worn down, thanks to everyone''s united efforts.

    Now, most fights occur not over their species'' differences, but menial issues such as simple misunderstandings and the like. Because of these changes in their thinking, most Kessu and Kraktol, at the very least, offer a begrudging respect for one another.

    Off in the corner of the stands, a female Kraktol and her friend, a female Kessu, sit together and chat while they wait for the action to start.

    "Have you finished fixing those gravimetric condensers on Deck Three?" The Kessu asks.

    "Kyargh! I haven''t! This tech stuff makes my head hurt. I keep trying to get transferred to the manual labor division, but there''s a queue longer than my tail to get in!"

    "I can pop by to help you out, mraww!" The Kessu says.

    "Sure! That would be a big help. Oooh, they''re coming out, now!"

    The Kraktol points toward the center of the Holodeck, where a flat, circular arena has appeared, elevated about ten feet above the floor. Stairs on its sides lead up to the top surface, where more than two dozen Kraktol and an equal number of Kessu clamber up to stand in rows and columns.

    "These challengers look about the same as last month''s," The Kessu female says. "Meow! Look, there''s Ruuki! He and Soren won the last competition. Doesn''t seem she''s participating this time, though. Looks like he picked someone else as his partner for today."

    The Kraktol female glances at the arena and frowns. "That''s weird. Kyargh! Why''s there an empty space in the middle? Are we missing someone?"

    "Not sure... let''s wait and see," The Kessu mutters.

    Many minutes pass. Some of the spectators start to get antsy, wondering why the first round of combat hasn''t started yet.

    Finally, the holodeck door opens in the distance, revealing a pair of figures as they step inside.

    "Ooh! It''s the Admiral! I thought he didn''t usually come to watch these fights?"

    "And Soren! Soren''s here too! I guess she didn''t feel like competing, this time."

    All of the spectators begin clamoring excitedly about the differences in this month''s competition versus the previous ones. Having the Admiral himself show up is a rare treat, given the amount of work on his plate.

    Admiral Rodriguez casually walks into the holodeck and nods vaguely at the spectator stands on the opposite side of the holodeck. He smiles and waves, while Soren follows behind him silently. As he mounts the combat platform, many voices become hushed.

    "Oh... oh, ancestors! Is the Admiral going to fight in today''s competition? Is that why there''s still a spot open?"

    "If he joins, it''ll be a bloodbath! There''s no way anyone can beat him!"

    Despite their worry for the combatants, the vast majority of the spectators feel their blood boil as eagerness to see a true master of combat fills their hearts. Sometimes, one wishes to see two equally-matched challengers duke it out, while other times, one might wish to see one super-powerful fighter beat the crap out of a bunch of weaklings.

    "Everyone..." Jos�� says, raising his hand.

    His simple movement silences the audience, as they wait for him to continue.

    "...I have a special treat for you all, today."

    Several Kraktol flick their eyes toward one another, trying to guess what the Admiral''s announcement might be.

    "Over the past eight months, Soren has gathered the very best fighters among the Kraktol and Kessu to battle it out in two-versus-two combat matches. Most of you probably assumed these matches were just for show, but they weren''t. I wanted to build a database of the strongest fighters on this ship, determine compatibilities between different people, and so on. However, I also had another reason, and that was to gather the absolute strongest fighters we could find and put them here before you all, today."

    Jos�� walks up and down the line introducing the combatants.

    "First, we have Sapphire, our Chief Strategy Officer, teamed up with Miss Miku, everyone''s favorite Deck Two janitor."

    Seeing the small Kessu beside the blue-scaled Kraktol, many of the spectators nod. Despite her ''lowly'' position as a janitor, Miku actually possesses a strong combat sense and has always excelled when paired up with Sapphire. They even won first place a few months before, beating out Ruuki and another of the stronger Kraktol combatants.

    The Admiral introduces two dozen other combatants, all of whom puff out their chests and try to appear as imposing as possible, partly to look good in front of the Admiral, and partly for the audience''s sake.

    After Jos�� finishes, he returns to the front of the line.

    "All of this was part of my master plan. I wanted to see what the most formidable and frightening lineup of Kraktol and Kessu could do when pitted against a truly horrifying adversary. And now, today, I will have my answer."

    The Admiral''s words cause many spectators to blink in confusion.

    A horrifying adversary? Is the Admiral going to pit the challengers against a simulated army? Perhaps a bunch of Trolls, or... worse?

    The Admiral gestures toward the holodeck door, which opens to reveal a massive and imposing figure.

    "Everyone, I shall now introduce to you a crewmate you haven''t seen in a very, very long time."

    Thump.

    Thump.

    Slowly, the nine-foot-tall giant, slightly taller than the Admiral himself, begins to lumber into the room. Each footstep hits the ground with an intimidating thud, making the spectators'' eyes widen in shock.

    "H-holy..." A Kessu mutters. Her fur stands on end reflexively as she eyes the scary-looking Kraktol entering the room. "That''s... that''s Grundle!"

    Her cry of alarm spreads a wave of realization through the audience. Every pair of eyes locks onto the tall, grey-scaled Kraktol, eying him with more than simple fear or reverence.

    "How can that possibly be Grundle?!" One Kraktol female cries. "Nobody''s seen him for months! I was even worried he might have died in an accident! Kyargh!"

    "That bloody F��th is bigger than the Admiral! What in the swamp-muck has he been eating?!"

    Grundle lumbers forward, his eyes casually sweeping across the audience. This simple motion causes anyone whose gaze he meets to fall deathly silent.

    As the Kraktol walks up the stage''s steps, he pauses to bow his head before Jos��.

    "Admiral. Thank you. For everything."

    Even with his head bowed, Grundle still barely stands taller than Jos��. The Admiral pays the size difference no mind, opting instead to squeeze his arm affectionately. "You''ve endured well, Grundle."

    "Only because of you," Grundle replies, his voice bone-chillingly deep. "I will serve you until the day I die."

    "Let us hope that day is a long, long way off," Jos�� replies. He gestures toward the open spot amidst the center of the contestants, making all of them widen their eyes in horror.

    "No way..." Sapphire cries, glancing at her partner. "We have to fight Grundle? We won''t last one move! He''s even bigger than Kisa!"

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    Jos�� straightens his posture. He folds his hands behind his back and walks out in front of the contestants.

    "That''s right! All of you are the best fighters aboard the Bloodbearer. Today''s match will not be like the others. Instead, all of you will fight Grundle at the same time! You must beat him into submission, or knock him out! Likewise, he must do the same to you."

    Grundle takes his position among the contestants, making the size difference even more apparent. In totality, he stands a full two heads taller than the tallest Kraktol onstage, and three or more heads above the shorter ones like Sapphire.

    "I don''t want to hear any excuses or whining," Jos�� says, his tone strict. "Any one of you can easily defeat a Stone Troll in solo combat. With all of you working together, surely you should be able to defeat one little Kraktol all by his lonesome! So, work hard, fight hard, and show me what you''ve learned. The competition will begin in five minutes!"

    Without another word, Jos�� turns and walks offstage, heading to the spectator stands. Soren stays behind to play the role of the mediator and judge among the combatants, taking up a seat atop a simulated tower to give herself a birds-eye view.

    When Jos�� walks up to the stands, he catches sight of a Kessu waving at him. "Big Baldy! Over here! I saved you a spot!"

    The Admiral smiles. He meanders into the bleachers, then carefully makes his way into the center of the stands to sit down next to Little Lele, now eight years old. To the Admiral''s surprise, the little girl holds a tiny kitten in her arms, clearly a newborn.

    "Hi, Lele," Jos�� says, petting her head. "Who''s the kid? Are you babysitting?"

    "Uh-huh! This is one of my little sisters, Lulu!" Lele says beaming proudly at Jos��. "Daddy and Mommy had a litter of kittens last month! I''ve been wanting to let you know, but couldn''t find you!"

    Lele''s white fur matches her sister Lulu''s, making them almost blend together. Jos�� gently reaches down and rubs the newborn kitten''s head with his finger. "Ehehe. Such a cute kitty."

    "Wanna hold her?" Lele asks. "Here!"

    Lele lifts the small ball of fluff toward Jos��, but he hesitates. "I don''t know. Lulu''s pretty small. I might hurt her..."

    "Nuh-uh! You big silly!" Lele laughs. "She''ll be fine! Here, she''s the only one with pure white fur like me, so she''s my favorite. You can hold her! It''s fine!"

    Seeing Lele''s insistence, Jos�� relents. He gingerly cups the kitten in one of his hands, marveling at how insanely tiny she is; the same size as a normal house-kitten from the Motherworld.

    Easily fitting into the palm of Jos��''s hand, he delicately caresses her soft and fluffy fur, feeling a sense of contentment in the fidgeting kitten''s quiet mewls. With her eyes still not yet opened, Lulu only wriggles a little bit before settling into place in Jos��''s palm.

    Like this, two minutes pass while Jos�� marvels at the kitten''s sheer, unbelievable cuteness. Reluctantly, he gives Lulu back to Lele, chuckling to himself.

    "You''re going to be a big sister, now," Jos�� says. "That means you''ll have to act like a role model, Lele."

    "Yup!" Lele meows. "I''m gonna be the bestest big sister ever! I''ll make sure all of my brothers and sisters are happy, well-fed, and all that important stuff!"

    "You''re a good kid," Jos�� praises, before turning his attention back to the arena.

    Not long after, the competition begins. Twenty-three pairs of Kraktol and Kessu encircle Grundle, while he merely stands stoically, paying them little attention.

    "Graugh. There is no need to worry about your honor. Attack me all at once. I wish to test the limits of my power. If I fall, that will only mean I have not trained enough for this day."

    Sapphire crows. "Kyargh! You asked for it, Grundle!"

    She and all the others charge toward Grundle, raining their fists and claws upon him. With everyone working in tandem, they quickly seize the initiative, beating Grundle with every drop of their strength. Each blow lands on Grundle''s body with brutal force, leaving him grunting in pain while trying to fend off the furious onslaught of attacks.

    However, even with so many vicious kicks and punches crashing against Grundle''s body, he never roars in pain or gasps for breath. Instead, he deflects the most dangerous blows, dives through an opening, and rears his foot out to kick one Kraktol in the back.

    THUMP!

    With that one strike, Grundle sends the Kraktol and his Kessu companion flying! They tumble into another duo, causing all four of them to fly off the arena stage and crash against the holodeck floor.

    "Ring-out!" Soren proclaims. "Teams three and seventeen are out!"

    "Damn!" The Kraktol who got kicked curses. "I barely even saw his movements! How can someone so big move so fast?!"

    Meanwhile, Grundle continues fighting. Like a snake swimming through a forest''s underbrush, he drops to all fours and slithers forward, passing through a gap in his opponent''s defenses. He swipes his tail in a wide arc to trip another pair of Kraktol, then lifts himself on his front-claws for a second to kick backward with his feet.

    THUMP-THUMP!

    Grundle easily knocks both of those two off-stage, as well as their Kessu partners, making them tumble face-first onto the holodeck floor.

    "Teams seven and eight, ring out!" Soren proclaims.

    Over and over, Grundle knocks one duo after another out of the ring, making the dwindling challengers feel a looming sense of hopelessness and despair.

    "Is the gap in our strength really so vast?!" Sapphire cries. "What sorts of meat has the Admiral been feeding this damned Bulin?! How can the weakest Kraktol become the strongest in only two years?"

    Soon, she, too, goes flying. Grundle throws Sapphire out of the arena, along with her partner. After less than thirty short minutes, Grundle finishes cleaning up, taking out every combatant in the ring. He rises to his feet and raises his fists skyward.

    "Graugh! I reign supreme! All hail the Admiral! All hail the mighty Precursor! My victory comes because of him! Graugh!"

    Jos�� and the rest of the audience rise to their feet, giving Grundle a standing ovation. Everyone claps and cheers, excited by the insane display of power from he who was once the absolute weakest among all of Drall''s warriors.

    "I''m glad he''s on our side!" One Kessu says.

    "Mraw! Dang right! How can anyone ever beat him?! Grundle is a friggin'' monster! He''s unstoppable!"

    As the crowd heaps endless praises onto Grundle, tears well up in his eyes.

    Not long ago, I never had any hope to make something of myself. If it weren''t for the Admiral, I would still be stuck cleaning the grates on Drall''s ship. No matter what, I will repay the Admiral even if it takes the rest of my life! Nobody is more important to me than him.

    Jos�� smiles and nods.

    "You did it, Grundle..." Jos�� mutters under his breath, his voice drowned out by the cheering crowd. "But this is only the beginning of your training. You''ve suffered so much and worked yourself to the bone, never giving up on your dreams. Now, you must surpass me. You must show everyone the true power a Kraktol can achieve."

    ...

    After the holodeck battles end, Jos�� and Soren leave together.

    "Admiral," Soren says, "The biomod acceptance ratings still haven''t reached optimal levels. While Grundle can forcefully use them to enhance his body, persisting through the pain by his sheer willpower, other Kraktol won''t be able to do such a thing."

    Jos�� nods. "I know. Grundle is only the first test subject. Unless someone else trains to the peak of their body''s power, I won''t risk their lives with such a dangerous, experimental surgery. Getting his rejection rate to sub-ten percent within less than a year is already a miracle in and of itself."

    He and Soren travel into the Bloodbearer''s lower decks, then arrive at their ultimate destination; the Armory. With many of the crew taking a break to eat in the Mess Hall, the Admiral and his First Officer find themselves alone.

    Soren pulls out a datapad and reviews its contents while she speaks, logging down the conditions of all the Bloodbearer''s weaponry.

    "Admiral, would it be possible for me to become the second experimental subject?"

    A look of surprise flashes in his eyes. "You? Absolutely not. You''re the most important member of the crew. If an accident were to occur and you were to end up crippled or dead, I''d never forgive myself. I need you to maintain the ship and keep the peace between the crew."

    Soren hesitates. "I understand, Admiral, but this surgery represents the peak of what Kraktol biology can achieve. If I were to receive the surgery, then my insights would elevate substantially."

    "Doesn''t matter," Jos�� says, firmly rejecting her proposal. "You''re already one of the strongest Kraktol in terms of fighting power. Even so, your body is clearly more suited to the pursuit of science. Experimenting on yourself could cause, at a minimum, crippling nerve damage, brain damage, or worse. If I lose you, who will be your replacement?"

    "Why not Lele?" Soren immediately asks. "Or her Aunt Lorrie?"

    "Lele is still too young," Jos�� responds, shaking his head. "Perhaps in ten years she will truly rival you, but for now she''s just an inexperienced kitten. She hasn''t yet seen the true horrors of war."

    "But she has..." Soren mumbles. "Kyargh. What about when Orgon attacked Lele''s village? She witnessed many dead Kessu, and other horrors. She suffered immensely."

    Jos�� falls silent for a moment.

    "...I suppose you''re right. Even so, that''s no reason to allow you to test the Kraktol biomods on yourself. If you consider yourself my First Officer, then please listen to reason. You need to do what you''re best at and leave other stuff to those who are most suited."

    The Admiral pauses.

    "Besides. Implanting biomods is going to be an agonizing experience for the next several Kraktol to try. I don''t want you to suffer like that."

    Soren lowers her head.

    "Yes, Admiral. I understand. Thank you. Thank you for... caring."

    A moment passes. Jos�� and Soren stand silently, with her staring at the datapad in her hand, and him gazing at the side of her head.

    Soren''s voice cracks. "A-Admiral. Toward you, I feel..."

    "No. That can''t work," Jos�� says, immediately noticing the change in her expression. "We can never be an item, Soren. Someone already stole my heart away a long time ago."

    "Evelyn?" Soren whispers, turning to look at Jos��.

    "That''s right. No matter how much time passes, I won''t ever forget her. Besides, you and I aren''t the same species."

    Soren takes a step toward Jos��. "That... that shouldn''t matter, Admiral. There''s no harm in... in cross-species affection."

    Seeing the pleading look in Soren''s eyes, Jos�� laughs wryly. "Haha. I... I''m just not good with... that sort of thing. Don''t misunderstand, Soren. I care deeply about you. I just... I try to look at you like a little sister. Like family."

    "You try?" Soren asks. "So, even you feel something more toward me? A feeling you wrestle with."

    Jos�� nods. "Yes. Of course. But it can''t go further than this. It simply can''t."

    Before Soren can react, Jos�� steps forward and stretches his arms out. He wraps them around her shoulders, then presses his head against hers, while closing his eyes.

    "A-Admiral..." Soren squeaks.

    "This is only a hug," Jos�� explains. "I love you like a sister, Soren. This is the best way I can express that love."

    Sensing the sincerity in his words, Soren merely nods. She echoes his movements, wrapping her arms around his back.

    The two of them embrace each other, enjoying the intimate contact they''ve never shared before.

    Jos�� rubs the back of Soren''s head, then pulls away.

    "How do you feel now, Soren?"

    His First Officer blushes, causing her red scales to flush with color.

    "I... I... thank you, Admiral."

    "You can call me Jos��," he says. "You''ve been at my side for years, now. If you were a male, I would call you brother. As my sister, I will treat you the same way I once did... toward Nick."

    Soren nods.

    "Thank you, Ad- err... thank you, Jos��."

    He smiles back.

    "You''re very welcome."

 Chapter 63: Year Three - Preparations

    Inside the Bloodbearer''s Executive Lounge, a large circular table with a holographic emitter in its middle rests in the center of the room. Many luxurious food and beverage amenities line the walls, along with potted plants taken from Tarus II''s ecosystem, the original plants that decorated the room having long-since perished to the annals of time.

    Admiral Rodriguez and his First Officer, Soren Mudrose, sit next to each other at the perimeter of the giant table, their tiny figures completely dwarfed by its size.

    Within minutes, the room''s entrance opens, allowing several figures to stream inside.

    Lorrie, Lele''s aunt and the former Kessu leader from thousands of years earlier, steps through first.

    Patriarch Nyoor and Matriarch Baaru, the latter of whom has become the Bloodbearer''s Chief Disciplinary Officer in charge of reprimanding rulebreakers and troublemakers among the crew, both follow up.

    The newly promoted Second Officer, Grundle Skycrusher, trails behind his Admiral, a deep respect for his superior etched into his bones.

    Chief Strategy Officer Sapphire Brighteye, in charge of planet and ship-based combat operations. Sparkles appear in her eyes as she lasers her gaze onto the Admiral.

    And finally, the Chief Training Officer in charge of training personnel in Terran-type combat-styles, Big Ruuki. He trails in sheepishly while the door closes behind him.

    As these officers enter the room, one of them seems particularly excitable compared to his past self.

    "Ehehe! Mraww, I haven''t had a chance to thank you yet, Great Precursor!" Patriarch Nyoor meows. No longer does he use a walking stick to help amble along, and even his movements appear much more fluid than before. "I''ve gotten some spring back in my paws!"

    Seeing that the operation to extend Nyoor''s life was successful, Jos�� breathes a sigh of relief. "I am glad to hear that, Patriarch Nyoor. Why don''t you and Baaru come over here and take a seat?"

    Jos�� starts to motion toward the seats next to himself, but before he can finish, a blue blur rushes over to his side, and Sapphire plops down beside him.

    "Oh, Darling! I''ve missed you terribly!"

    The Admiral flinches in surprise, but merely sighs. He continues gesturing to the chairs on Sapphire''s left while shaking his head wryly. "...As I was saying, you two can plop down right there."

    The group of newcomers all take up seats around the table, with some of them sitting on the far side, while others crowd a bit closer to the Admiral.

    After everyone settles down, Jos�� glances at Sapphire''s expectant, loving gaze, and groans.

    "Alright, everyone. I''ve brought you all here today to discuss strategies for our arrival in Mallali space. We''re still a couple of years out from exiting Inverted Space, but in the meantime, it can''t hurt to ensure we''ve reviewed our goals moving forward."

    The Admiral gestures toward a Kessu seated several positions away. "The vast majority of our information comes from Miss Lorrie, here. I''ve also procured some information from the Kraktol guests to fill in the blanks, but even so, my available intel on the Core World leaders is a bit... vacuous."

    Lorrie meows politely. "Mraww. Yes, Admiral. Your goal, to warn the Mallali about the Buzor and have them develop a counter-strategy... well, I hesitate to say this, but after some thought, I don''t believe you will succeed."

    Jos�� taps a button attached to the table, activating its imaging matrix. Several holographic figures appear overhead, representing some of the leaders among the Core worlds. Along with a bipedal dog, rat, and other similar creatures, there even stands a bull and a moose.

    "In what way?" Jos�� asks, gesturing to the holograms. "Looking at all these disparate species, they still share many features in common, chief being that they''re mostly all Mallali. If they learn that the Buzor plan to attack them from the shadows, surely they will unite to set up a counter-defense, just in case. That choice requires little thought. Only an absolute idiot would ignore rock-solid evidence like what we''ll soon bring them."

    Lorrie shakes her head. "Not stupidity, Admiral. I would hesitate to call any of the Mallali leaders idiots. All of them are cunning politicians and savvy back-stabbers. The ones who sold the Kessu off to the Buzor have long since died or retired, but their progeny do not fall far from the tree."

    She continues. "I have never met the current Mallali leaders. All of these images, taken from my memories, were obtained secondhand from recordings and database entries I picked up during my time working for the Buzor. They gave me access to intel considered low-level and unimportant, allowing me to get a general idea of the galaxy''s shifting power structure. Take this fellow here, for instance."

    Lorrie gestures toward the current Dakkit leader, a white-furred dog-like Sentient with black splotches on his eyes and body. His appearance resembles an obese, slovenly Beagle.

    "Benjiro, the Alfras of the Dakkit. I haven''t spoken to him or seen him in person, but every piece of intel I''ve obtained indicates he''s a self-serving fellow who cares only about himself. If you bring evidence to him that the Buzor are going to attack the Core, he either won''t believe you, or won''t care."

    Jos�� frowns. "Are you sure? He would have to be monumentally stupid to ignore such a threat."

    "Again, not stupid, but lazy." Lorrie replies. "The Buzor know all about him and his weaknesses. They have greased his paws many times with benefits and tributes. He believes them to be harmless primitives, incapable of space-travel and unable to threaten his rule. So long as he continues to live in the lap of luxury, Benjiro will never bother worrying about the Buzor."

    Sapphire raises her voice. "Kyargh! My father once spoke to Benjiro. He acted quite threateningly and warned us away from ever invading Mallali space."

    "Yes, because he sees the Kraktol as a minor threat, one which he must snuff out before you get any wild ideas. However, he doesn''t know about the Rylon Shipyards, and thus, doesn''t consider you much more than an Outer Rim nuisance," Lorrie replies. With most of the Kessu and Kraktol crew having integrated together, news of the Kraktol''s secret ship-construction facilities have long since spread around the Bloodbearer''s halls, making Lorrie''s words wholly uncontroversial.

    Baaru raises her paw. "Mraww. If this Benjiro fellow is so obviously corrupt, then why not try to rally the other Mallali leaders? Surely, there must be one or two Sentients capable of reason."

    Lorrie points at the figure of a tall and slender gecko-like biped with green skin and bulbous eyes.

    "That''s the problem," Lorrie says, her tone gloomy. "Look at the different Sentient leaders. Leevoo the Observant, the Gelkor Merchant Queen, has long since established herself as the premier seller of goods in the Core. If a war occurs, she''ll simply profit by selling weapons to both sides."

    The Kessu scientist points at another image, this time of a humongous pig, his fat belly expanded beyond even Benjiro''s gut.

    "Hogg, the leader of the Gippen. He runs the casinos and other profitable markets outside of Leevoo''s control. If a war occurs, he too will make a fat profit. They might not possess any military might, but they''re both opportunists who would love to tear apart the galaxy for a quick buck. They possess plenty of pull in the Senate."

    Admiral Rodriguez''s appearance becomes unsightly. "Are you telling me that when we arrive, these lazy fools will simply ignore my warnings?"

    "To be honest, I don''t know," Lorrie says, shaking her head. "If I had to wager credits, I''d say you won''t accomplish a thing. However, you do possess a certain legitimacy in your claims that might sway the more open-minded. The Bloodbearer itself, for example. You are the only Sentient in the entire galaxy with a 50th Era vessel, let alone all of your interceptors and shuttlecraft. Hearing a dire warning from you might open the eyes of the ignorant runts playing king and queen."

    "I''m not flying the Bloodbearer anywhere near a Mallali world," Jos�� says. "I dare not risk bringing that level of attention to my crew. Even if the Mallali have already heard about my vessel, I won''t present it as an offering to them. I''ll park the Bloodbearer out of sight behind some remote asteroid, where a casual scan won''t pick it up on any long-range sensors, and then I''ll travel to Enchillon via the Slipstream."

    "If you don''t go to the Core in an official capacity, you won''t wield any significant clout," Lorrie warns. "Your goal is to rally the Core against the Buzor, and especially the demons. Every bit of influence you accrue will help you achieve your goal. Trust me, I''ve played the political game for most of my adult life."

    Jos�� waves Lorrie''s concerns away. "Don''t worry. I have my ways. If push comes to shove, I can always put the fear of the Precursors in them. They won''t take me lightly after that."

    Lorrie frowns. "Intimidation? Are you going to threaten the Mallai? The Dakkit?"

    "I''ll make them an offer they can''t refuse," Jos�� jokes, while leaning back in his chair. "Come on, don''t give me that look. I can be persuasive."

    "Undoubtedly..." Lorrie mutters. "It''s just... do you have a backup plan? If you fail to convince the Mallali of your plan''s veracity, your ambitions will fall flat. The Bloodbearer is an incredible weapon assault platform capable of projecting firepower across an entire star system. Even so, it''s only one vessel. You can''t defeat the Buzor with it alone."

    "Kyargh! Why not seek help from other sources?" Sapphire asks. "We Kraktol are not the only Rodaks out there! What of the Trellut or the Groff? They possess decent fleets, suitable for at least assisting the Bloodbearer. Darling, don''t you only want to kill Yama? After you finish with him, you won''t care about the galaxy''s situation. You just need to make some quick friends, not forge permanent alliances."

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Jos�� strokes his beard thoughtfully. "The Kraktol only possess Third Era ships, though. If the other Rodaks aren''t any better, I doubt they''ll be much help."

    Sapphire blinks in surprise. "Huh? You don''t know? Kyargh! The Kraktol possess plenty of ships beyond the Third Era. We even possess a Tenth Era vessel! It''s just... well, we keep them near the homeworld, Dragua. They mostly exist to protect the Th��lvik."

    Soren nods. "Similarly, Admiral, the Trellut are a hardy species with ships that specialize in defense. They possess a 15th Era Juggernaut-Class ship, similar to the Bloodbearer, but focused on ship-to-ship combat, rather than planetary assault. It''s a mobile fortress, smaller than the Bloodbearer, but suitable for defending worlds or attacking heavily fortified embattlements."

    The Bloodbearer''s First Officer gestures toward the holograms in the center of the table, pointing at a giant turtle-looking biped, one with a huge shell on their back.

    "While most consider the Trellut to be slow-witted and dull, Turbo Baryon leads his people with quite a unique perspective. In the past, he won many racing tournaments on the Core Worlds, owing to his quick reflexes and iron-like will. He retired a few centuries ago, but even so, I think his flexible thinking could provide us with the help we need. He might be amenable to our cause."

    "I''ll elaborate on my plan, then," Jos�� says. "When I arrive, I intend to slip inside the Mallali HQ alone. The rest of you won''t be able to follow after me. I''ll scare the Mallali senseless, revealing to them my ability to evade their defenses. By using myself as an example, I plan to show them that the power they''ve amassed in the Core won''t protect them as handily as they imagine."

    Soren and Sapphire''s jaws both drop in unison.

    "No, way, Darling!" Sapphire cries. "That''s far too dangerous! If you slip up, the Mallali will kill you!"

    "I agree!" Soren adds. "The Mallali enforcers are all heavily armed and adorn themselves in high-level defensive implements. If you fail to infiltrate the Mallali power structure, you''ll end up blasted to kingdom come and will fail at the starting line. Even if you make it all the way inside, the leaders will likely call down the enforcers on you. I cannot condone such a risky mission. We should meet them openly and use your position as a Precursor to increase your legitimacy."

    "That isn''t necessarily a good idea," Lorrie argues. "You forget. The Precursors have long since died off. There are countless minor species spread throughout the Milky Way. Even if the Admiral claims himself to be a Precursor, that will only cause people to doubt his identity. After all, what really are the odds one lone Precursor would survive for a hundred million years? He might be some random Mallali half-breed pretending to be a Precursor purely for the fame."

    She continues. "Further, even if the Mallali believe him... do you trust the Mallali? They would love nothing more than to capture the Admiral and turn him into a test subject. Think of all the information and data they could extract simply regarding biomods. If the Admiral goes there and announces his identity to the galaxy, he''ll call down a storm upon himself far worse than what we wish to bring upon the Buzor."

    The room falls silent. Sensing the tension in the air, many people lower their eyes to fall deep into thought.

    The Admiral''s biggest goal, to slay Yama, means they must entangle themselves with the Buzor. But, to do so, they will need far more firepower than merely the Bloodbearer can provide. They will need an intelligence network to hunt for Yama''s position among the Buzor''s worlds.

    Additionally, Jos��''s identity as the Precursor comes with countless benefits, but also many pitfalls. To those seated inside the Executive Lounge, it seems more and more that this mission will not end simply, but instead be fraught with danger and peril.

    Especially for the Admiral himself.

    ...

    Jos�� strokes his chin several times. He shakes his head and mumbles words under his breath, yet still fails to come up with a perfect solution.

    "I have to do this my way," Jos�� concludes. "You''re right, in that the Mallali will want to turn me into their little test tube baby. However, that concept will come from their greed. To balance out that greed, I need to strike the fear of God into them. I need to show them that I am not a predator they can afford to piss off, one with means far beyond their imagination."

    Lorrie''s expression turns ugly. "Your method is both crude and brutish. If you do burn your image into the Mallali leader''s eyes, how can you possibly get them to help you? You won''t be able to trust them. The moment you leave their sight, they will see you as a threat; one they must eliminate."

    "I''ve lived a long time," Jos�� says, his tone ominous. "I''ve fought in many wars. I''ve battled on the frontlines and killed in the shadows. I''ve slaughtered monsters more horrifying than any nightmare you''ve ever suffered. I''ve slain kings and torn leaders off their thrones with my bare hands. If there is one thing I don''t fear, it''s a fight to the death. I don''t even fear Yama himself, but rather, that I won''t be able to find the little shadow-skulker."

    Jos�� continues. "Fear is a weapon I''ve grown used to using. Nobody here has really seen me at my worst. You know me as a relatively nice man, amiable and polite. But if someone deliberately gets in my way or threatens my people... I will make them regret their day of birth."

    The Admiral casually raises his hand, holding his palm upward in front of his chest. "The Mallali leaders, according to everything I''ve learned, are old and corrupt. They''re pathetic little pissants who rely on coercion and intimidation to rule with an iron fist. Thugs who use such tactics are nothing before a seasoned Terran warrior, let alone me. There is only one way to treat vermin, and that is to stomp on their tails so that they panic. Once you''ve broken their mind and called their bluff, they will have no choice but to accede to your demands."

    "Lorrie," Jos�� says, glancing at the Kessu. "You say that the Mallali leaders will call their mightiest enforcers to rain devastation upon me. But so what? Even if their weapons stood at the top of the 50th Era''s firepower, which they don''t, I would not fear them. Yama killed me once because I fought him unprepared. I will not repeat that mistake. I won''t fall into any feeble trap thrown at me by the crippled old farts of this era, while they will collapse before me like paper dominos before a flood. The way I see it, I only have one method to deal with them, but it happens to be the one I''m most adept at using."

    Jos�� folds his hands in his lap.

    "The Mallali wronged your species, Lorrie. Consider my actions a form of... recompense. Karma, if you will. You have long since paid the price for your ancient crimes, but the Dakkit have yet to suffer for theirs. I am the judgment the Creator has sent, and I shall act as such."

    The Admiral falls silent, causing a vague heaviness to fill the air.

    Across from Jos��, Lele''s father, Ruuki, clears his throat.

    "Mraww... I hope you won''t go too far, Great Precursor. We don''t want to lose you a second time."

    Jos�� smiles. "Don''t worry. I won''t put myself in any unnecessary danger. I still have so much to live for, after all."

    ...

    Not long afterward, the meeting concludes and several people file out. However, a few stick behind, consisting of Soren, Sapphire, and Lorrie.

    "Err, if you don''t mind my asking," Lorrie says, "what are you planning to do afterward, Admiral? After slaying Yama, I mean? Assuming you finish your goal, do you have any other plans?"

    Jos�� folds his hands atop the table. "I do. Let''s just say... this era doesn''t suit me."

    "I beg your pardon?" Lorrie asks.

    The Admiral doesn''t immediately elaborate. However, when Sapphire leans around to look at him with her sparkling eyes, he relents.

    "Erm... cough! I uh... I need to find a certain... thing. An object. Similar to what the Buzor hid under Tarus II''s surface."

    "A Warpgate?" Soren asks.

    "Yes, sort of..." Jos�� answers evasively. "It''s not quite the same, though. I need to find... a Rip-Gate."

    Lorrie''s ears immediately perk up. "A Rip-Gate? What''s that?"

    "It sounds like a Warp-Gate, or a Jump-Gate..." Soren mutters.

    "That''s right," Jos�� says. "Warp-Gates are planet-bound teleportation gates. You can travel from one gate to another, provided you can calculate the spatial coordinates for both. Jump-Gates, on the other hand, are humongous spaceship-centric gates capable of connecting two distant points in space to one another. By entering one gate, you can instantly travel to the other one no matter the distance. Even crossing galaxies can occur instantaneously."

    The Admiral pauses for a moment, as if to deliberate whether he should say anything else. Sighing, he continues.

    "Rip-Gates... well, to understand a Rip-Gate, you first have to understand Ripspace."

    Seeing none of the women present speak up to interrupt him, Jos�� continues.

    "Long ago, at an unknown point in time, a ''quantum event'' occurred. This event was catastrophic in its effects on space-time. It created a phenomenon we naively referred to as ''parallel worlds'' or ''alternate timelines.'' Simply put, an unknown entity traveled back in time, and their actions caused the formerly stable time-space continuum to split apart once, twice, and then a million times. The instant they traveled backward, they created all the other timelines at once, forming what humanity later termed ''Ripspace.''"

    Jos�� pauses to take a breath, then continues.

    At any point, at any position in the universe, a rip can occur in space, exposing our universe to the effects of another. 99.999% of the time, this doesn''t affect our reality in the slightest, but sometimes it does. Sometimes, a minuscule tear can occur inside a star, instantly sucking it and its energy out of existence, likely into the other universe."

    Jos�� motions with his hands to manipulate the holographic emitter. He summons a thousand tiny bubbles into existence above the table, then randomly colors one of them green.

    "Pretend for a moment that green bubble is our universe. These bubbles all represent other realities, other times, and other universes. They slowly move around, sometimes drawn to each other, and sometimes repelling each other. When they nudge each other, tears can occur in reality, opening up a gap through Ripspace. As you might imagine... sometimes, we can even traverse the gaps, allowing us to visit other realities."

    All of the blood drains from Soren''s scales, leaving her looking pale and malnourished. "N-no way. Traveling between universes... that isn''t possible. I can''t even wrap my head around the concept."

    Lorrie, however, appears less confused. "Hmm. I once theorized there might be other realities outside our own, but I had no way to confirm my hypothesis."

    "They do exist," Jos�� nods. "However, navigating them is 99% luck. You see, Rip-Gates are a very special existence that once allowed my people, Ramma''s Chosen, to forcibly open tears in reality. We could then enter Ripspace and use it to travel between universes. In this way, we managed to plunder endless resources from other galaxies, empowering our faction well beyond what our small size might normally obtain. As far as I know, we were the only faction who even possessed a Ripgate, though there was no way to perfectly confirm that theory. Leaks were always possible, after all."

    He continues. "Theoretically, Ripspace isn''t merely a method for traveling between two separate universes. One can also use it to travel through time."

    Lorrie stares at Jos�� intently. "You intend to go back in time? A hundred million years?"

    Jos�� shrugs. "Maybe. But then again, it probably isn''t possible. Traveling across realities is functionally different from bending spacetime within your own universe. I don''t actually know if I can pull it off."

    Sapphire''s luster fades significantly. "You''re... you''re going to leave us, Darling?"

    "Ideally, yes," Jos�� says, his tone firm. "I''m sorry. You have all been great friends. I cherish our time together. However, I don''t belong in this universe. I don''t belong here, one hundred million years after the extinction of my people. The longer I stay, the greater my sense of unease."

    Jos�� sweeps his arms around the room. "If I depart successfully, I''ll leave the Bloodbearer to you. All of you. You may use it how you see fit, perhaps as a new home for the Kessu. I hope that, when the time comes, you won''t use it as a weapon of war, but as a herald of peace. I might use it to scare the Mallali a little, but in the end, I do hope the era of never-ending bloodshed stays in the distant past. Perhaps the Bloodbearer''s presence in the galaxy will warn the Sentients away from using weapons of mass destruction. Perhaps they may even realize they should set aside their differences to seek a better future."

    The Admiral sighs.

    "My people killed ourselves. We exterminated our own species, likely through greed or an urge to conquer. I pray the Sentients of this Era won''t repeat our mistake."

    Soren narrows her eyes. "But what if your people didn''t die because of their own hubris, Admiral? What if they died because of... an external force?"

    The First Officer''s words linger in the air, almost like a veiled threat.

    What about Monolith?

    However, having agreed to keep that matter private, Jos�� doesn''t give give a name to the secret lurking within her words.

    "Well, if that is the case, then I pray you will all be able to endure whatever befalls you."

    Lorrie lowers her eyes.

    "Indeed."

 Chapter 64: Year Four - Training

    Inside a dense jungle on a planet full of vicious predators, a trio of bipeds fights furiously, one of them firing energy and ballistic projectiles to fend off their attackers.

    Blat! Blat!

    "Grundle! The Gosheks are cutting off our path of retreat," Soren yells. "I''m grabbing an elevated position!"

    Not far away, a huge Kraktol with a massive battle axe roars defiantly as he beheads a seven-foot-tall, raptor-like monster. "Graaaugh! My vibro-axe is running dry on energy! It''s not cutting through their armor as effectively as before!"

    Meanwhile, behind them, a lone Terran bobs and weaves, his skin covered in a shiny metal exterior. A ''Goshek'' pounces at him, opening its long, pointy mouth full of teeth to bite onto the Admiral''s arm. It clamps down, intending to pierce his Dermal Carapace and chomp into soft, juicy flesh. Instead, the human spins on his heel, yanking his arm out of the Goshek''s mouth right as it snaps shut.

    Jos�� Rodriguez continues spinning. He raises his other leg over his head, then swings it downward in a violent axe-chopping motion, crushing the monster''s thick skull into fragments.

    Thunk!

    The creature dies instantly, its body collapsing lifelessly to the forest floor.

    "Keep fighting," Jos�� says, his tone completely even. He doesn''t even breathe heavily, having failed to wind himself. "You''re about to break your previous high score!"

    Three more Gosheks pounce from the underbrush. They race toward the huge Kraktol, Grundle, who sweeps his axe in a wide arc, forcing the enemies backward.

    "Graugh! I''ll keep killing, then!"

    Hearing that he''ll soon break his previous record, Grundle''s eyes light up with excitement. He rushes forward and slips around the jaws of death, evading a Goshek capable of chewing his face off. In the split-second the monster''s bite misses, Grundle wraps his arm around the Goshek''s neck and wrenches it with all his strength.

    Crrrack!

    Multiple bones shatter under his strength, causing the velociraptor-like creature to fall limp in his grasp. With his other free hand, he chops his axe into a second Goshek''s head, but his scales momentarily lose their color as the final member of the trio lunges at him.

    Blat! Blat!

    Two high-powered energy beams fire down from the treetops above, melting the creature''s brains into goop. It falls dead at Grundle''s feet, leaving him to breathe a sigh of relief.

    "Nice shooting, Soren!" Grundle yells, quickly throwing a thumbs-up in her direction.

    "Teamwork, teamwork, teamwork," Jos�� repeats thrice, clapping his hands for emphasis. "Four unified fists will always beat sixteen uncoordinated ones!"

    Soren drops to the forest''s underbrush, staying low to the ground while she checks both of her pistols.

    "My ballistic ammo has fallen below ten percent capacity," Soren reports, aiming her words at Grundle. "But my energy pistol still has a bit more than a third of its battery left."

    From the skies above, Umi''s voice speaks. "All enemies defeated. Stage Nine complete. Now advancing to Stage Ten. New Aero-Xenophile enemy type added."

    Jos��''s expression doesn''t change, but Soren and Grundle''s both turn to anguish.

    "Crap! So unlucky!" Grundle complains. "We lost to elemental-xenos last time!"

    "Not all enemy spawns are the same in the Endurance Exercise," Jos�� says, tactfully reminding his First and Second Officers. "You might get lucky and encounter a weaker Xenophile during this session."

    However, even as Jos�� speaks, he smirks inwardly. Ah, but too bad for you, I''m here.

    His brain connects to a holographic matrix, then picks out one of the more than 200,000 simulated enemy designs for his Officers to face.

    I''m pretty hungry, Jos�� thinks. I can''t wait to pay a visit to the chow-hall. Let''s just wrap this up quickly. I wouldn''t want to make things too easy for little Grun-Grun and Soren.

    As part of their required courses, Jos��''s combat-oriented personnel often train in various simulations on the Holodeck in the same way he once did in his youth. Having fought in countless real and simulated environments, pretty much nothing ever makes Jos�� break a sweat, while every new holographic horror causes his top Officers to at least momentarily panic.

    "Admiral, I don''t understand why you''re even here," Grundle says, as he cautiously eyes his surroundings. "Isn''t this supposed to test my teamwork with Soren? If you are here to help... graugh..."

    Jos�� laughs. He leans against a tree casually while waiting for the Tenth Stage to begin. "You misunderstand, Grundle. I didn''t come here to help you. I came because I was bored. The Bloodbearer only has one large-scale holodeck and two smaller ones. I rarely get to exercise, and I can''t train with the piddly mooks your juniors fight. I can only break a sweat if I join a training session with you and Soren."

    Grundle''s scales flush with embarrassment, a comical sight given his massive size and intimidating presence. "Oh. That, uh... makes sense."

    "You just worry about yourselves," Jos�� says. "Don''t count on me for help. I''ll only fight if I feel like stretching my legs. In fact, I think I''ll head off on my own. You two have fun!"

    Without waiting for a reply, Jos�� jogs away, leaving Grundle and Soren behind.

    "That Admiral..." Soren mutters, shaking her head. "He doesn''t seem like it, but Jos�� can be a real prankster sometimes."

    The forest quickly fades away from the top down, replaced instead with ruined buildings from an ancient era, dilapidated stone and dirt structures that appear ripped straight out of Greek architecture.

    "Stage Ten loaded, beginning mission in ten seconds," Umi beeps above, her words ominous.

    As Umi starts counting down, both Kraktol immediately start checking their surroundings for cover.

    "Over here," Grundle says, pointing to a set of stairs leading underground. "Let''s force the enemies to come to us."

    Soren shakes her head. "Bad idea. There''s only one way in and out. If we go there, we''ll be trapped until the enemies overflow and kill us dead. We should find an elevated position, instead."

    "We only have to beat our previous scores," Grundle says. "We''re within five hundred points! Twenty more enemies and we''ll succeed! Come on!"

    The giant Kraktol doesn''t wait for Soren''s permission. With Umi''s counter reaching the two-second mark, Soren can only grit her teeth and follow after him.

    "Fine! But if we mess up, this one''s on you!"

    The two of them travel ''underground,'' though their descent comes as a result of mentally-manipulative holographic techniques. Jos�� seemingly stands a ''half mile'' away, judging their decision with laughing eyes.

    "Come on, Grundle. What the heck kind of choice is that? You should have listened to Soren. She''s much smarter than you. Oh, well. Kids have to learn somehow. None of my business."

    The Admiral speaks to himself, his voice not projecting nearly loudly enough for the Kraktol to hear him.

    As the match begins, Jos��''s gaze flicks to a huge throng of monsters and creatures beaming into the Holodeck''s confines. Among them are not only the Gosheks from the previous round, but several other creatures from earlier rounds, all of them assuming combat stances and falling into automated formations to enhance their strengths.

    In addition to these returning enemies, a tenth type joins the foray, one which makes Jos�� chuckle.

    "I guess my cute little crocs haven''t yet figured out how aero-types function. Going into an enclosed area will spell their early defeat."

    Inside the makeshift bunker, Soren trains her piddly pair of backup pistols on the stairwell while Grundle stands at the bottom, ready to block any creature that dares to enter.

    "Don''t worry!" Grundle declares. "My plan is foolproof! These stairs create a perfect throttle position! I still have plenty of strength left to hold our enemies back!"

    "It''s called a ''choke point,''" Soren snaps, correcting him.

    "Same thing!" Grundle argues. "You just pick ''em off with headshots! I''ll handle the rest!"

    Moments later, a storm of monsters rushes toward their location. They pour into the tight passage two and three at a time, tripping over each other to try and get at the juicy biological-beings first.

    "Bahaha! Too easy!" Grundle laughs. "Stupid idiots didn''t even come in one at a time! They''re stuffing the stairs full!"

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    Soren remains uneasy, but she still takes her time aiming and firing to maximize her precision. She blows out the brains of an enemy every five seconds, quickly mowing down six of them in half a minute. As she does, Grundle raises his axe overhead and chops downwards, lopping at the necks of any other enemies in range.

    Hack! Hack!

    Like a bloody butcher from Hell, Grundle laughs wildly while killing another five misshapen monsters.

    "I don''t even see the new Aero-types yet!" Grundle laughs. "They probably can''t make it past all these blubber-brains blocking the entrance! We''ve already won!"

    Even as Grundle proudly declares his victory, imagining the glee of once again shattering his previous position on the leaderboards, Soren suddenly cries out from behind him.

    "Shit! They''re- aaaah!"

    Soren howls in pain, forcing Grundle to turn around in bewilderment. To his complete shock, Soren falls over, unconscious, while three ghostly apparitions swarm around her body.

    "W-what the-?! What the heck are THOSE?! Soren! Soren, are you...?!"

    The big grey Kraktol''s confusion turns to panic as a female shriek, reminiscent of a screeching little girl, erupts beside his ears. Jumping in alarm, Grundle whips his head around just in time to see five ghosts rushing at him from behind, all of them raising their phantasmal limbs to attack.

    Slash!

    Grundle howls in pain, while his mind goes blank.

    "Endurance training complete. Previous record for Officers Grundle and Soren remains unbroken, at 114,650 points. You have failed to surpass it by 125 points. Now ending today''s simulation."

    By the time Grundle and Soren both awaken, dazed and confused, they find themselves back inside the unadorned Holodeck, lying unceremoniously on the ground as if they had just collapsed from a stroke.

    "Huh? Huh? What happened?" Grundle asks. His bafflement turns to rage as he spots the hovering scoreboard in the air. "Nooo! So close! We almost had it! Are you kidding me?!"

    Soren wakes up only a moment after him. She quickly pulls herself up, then dusts her legs off while acting as if she never fainted at all.

    "I only caught a glimpse of my attackers," Soren replies, "but I recognized them. They appeared to be demonic sub-type entities. Wraiths, as I recall."

    After she speaks her observation, Soren turns to look across the barren Holodeck, where she finds her Admiral lounging in a holographic easy chair. He claps slowly.

    "Good eyes, Soren. Too bad you didn''t piece together your enemy''s identities beforehand."

    The Bloodbearer''s First Officer lowers her head glumly. "I did not realize Umi classified Wraiths as aero-type enemies. If I had, I would have taken the necessary precautions."

    Grundle wanders over to one of the Holodeck walls and kicks it out of annoyance. "Graugh! What a bastardly trick! To think those creepy ghosts could pass right through the walls! I never saw ''em coming."

    "If it wasn''t Wraiths, it could have been another type of enemy that foiled your plans," Jos�� says, as he climbs out of his chair and ambles over to his Officers. "What if your enemies had been Burrower demons? They could collapse the roof atop your head. Or what if your enemy had been an aquatic type? They could have blasted the stairwell with water and drowned you to death. You got too cocky at the end and assumed you had victory in the bag. That is why you failed."

    Grundle pouts. "The simulation is too hard. How are we supposed to face off against so many enemies for so long? Maybe if we had some time to prepare our defenses... but the simulation resets after each round."

    "No whining," Jos�� admonishes. "You don''t seem to understand an important fact, Grundle. The training you''re undertaking is exactly the same type that countless unaugmented Terran students took in Ramma''s academies. Not only is your body insanely powerful compared to a mere student''s, but you have already topped mine in a few key categories."

    Jos�� motions with his hand, causing a trio of immaterial graphs to pop into existence.

    "Look here. These are Soren''s statistics, mine, and yours. Notice anything?"

    Grundle narrows his eyes. He glances at the statistics doubtfully, but when he does, his eyes widen in shock.

    ...

    Soren Mudrose, Bloodbearer''s First Officer:

    Visual Rating: 0.75 (0.75)

    Olfactory rating: 0.8 (0.8)

    Auditory rating: 1.1 (1.1)

    Gustation rating: 0.3 (0.3)

    Somatosensory rating: 1.7 (1.7)

    Vestibular rating: 2.4 (2.4)

    Proprioceptive rating: 1.0 (1.0)

    Strength: 9.1 (7.5)

    Grip: 6.4 (5.4)

    Agility: 5.5 (2.3)

    Memory: 25.1 (12.3)

    Comprehension: 24.7 (9.4)

    Endurance: 9.2 (7.3)

    Stamina: 6 (4.3)

    ...

    Next come the Admiral''s measurements.

    Jos�� Rodriguez, Bloodbearer''s Admiral:

    Visual rating: 10.2 (21.9)

    Olfactory rating: 20.3 (19.1)

    Auditory rating: 38.7 (40.1)

    Gustation rating: 15.1 (12.8)

    Somatosensory rating: 41.7 (41.5)

    Vestibular rating: 35.7 (31.3)

    Proprioceptive rating: 31.6 (24.4)

    Strength: 47.7 (34.4)

    Grip: 65.3 (70.4)

    Agility: 21.3 (8.4)

    Memory: 145 (185.5)

    Comprehension: 184.1 (212.7)

    Endurance: 32.8 (26.0)

    Stamina: 24 (12.7)

    ...

    And finally, Grundle''s.

    Grundle Skycrusher, Bloodbearer''s Second Officer:

    Visual Rating: 1.1 (0.6)

    Olfactory rating: 0.9 (0.5)

    Auditory rating: 0.9 (0.4)

    Gustation rating: 0.4 (0.4)

    Somatosensory rating: 4.5 (2.1)

    Vestibular rating: 1.5 (0.9)

    Proprioceptive rating: 1.9 (0.5)

    Strength: 50.3 (4.3)

    Grip: 80.5 (6.0)

    Agility: 17 (2.1)

    Memory: 5.7 (1.2)

    Comprehension: 1.3 (1.5)

    Endurance: 45.2 (2.9)

    Stamina: 15 (0.9)

    ...

    Grundle and Soren both examine the numbers carefully, surprised beyond belief at the values.

    "These numbers are a bit deceptive," Jos�� explains, directing his explanation at Grundle. "To start, look at the numbers on the left. Those are your current ratings. The ones inside parentheses are your original values. For Soren, her original ratings came from when she first arrived on the Bloodbearer along with Megla four years ago. Mine are from when I first exited stasis-sleep, when my body still had many biological issues, and yours come from when we performed your first physical just after Drall''s arrival."

    The Admiral continues. "My numbers are faulty because they were taken from a completely different body. My current body is much younger, but also less physically experienced in warfare and thus lacking muscle memory. Additionally, I lost several premium biomods due to my untimely death, and a few other ones I was used to using had fused into my nervous system, so they were irrecoverable. As such, I''ve suffered tremendously in the Memory and Comprehension departments, but somewhat made up for it with my newer, younger physical body. I also gained another twenty or thirty thousand years of lifespan... so that''s nice."

    Soren''s expression becomes glum. Despite the Admiral''s positive and upbeat tone, she reads more than a little sadness into his words regarding his lost body and psionic abilities, things which he will never recover.

    All because I failed to protect him... Soren thinks.

    Jos�� doesn''t pick up on her inner thoughts. Instead, he continues speaking.

    "Soren''s stats, as you can see, have gone up quite substantially. This is all due to her hard work and constant training. Few other crew members will have seen such a drastic and steady increase over the past few years. To double her memory and nearly triple her comprehension without the use of biomods is beyond admirable," Jos�� praises.

    The Admiral glances at Grundle. "And then there''s you. As the absolute weakest Kraktol crewmember on Drall''s ship, your body was worse than Megla and Soren''s in almost every way. It is partially because of biomods that you have completely torn past your body''s barriers. You even surpass me in sheer strength thanks to your high baseline. Remove my biomods, and my body would be much weaker than Soren''s, let alone yours."

    The Admiral''s words cause Grundle to lower his head. "Graugh. How shameful! I am much stronger than you, yet I cannot pass such a simple Eleventh Stage! Truly, I have allowed all this power to go to my head!"

    "You have indeed," Jos�� replies, not refuting his Second Officer''s words. "In terms of physical ability, you can and should already be tackling S-rank solo missions, Grundle. Soren is far behind you, yet she can still take on B-rank missions now with ease. Considering the vast chasm in your abilities, this goes to show how valuable knowledge can be to a warrior on the battlefield. Soren uses her brain to quickly locate advantageous positions, pick off her enemies, and only tackle fights she can handle."

    "You, on the other hand, just rush headlong into situations and try to rely on your big, strong body to handle things. When you fight the other Kraktol, you defeat them handily, but against advanced Terran simulations, you are still little more than a hatchling flailing his claws."

    The Admiral waves his hand at Soren. "Soren, go stand over there. I''m going to have a quick match against Grundle."

    Soren nods. "Yes, Jos��."

    Having grown closer to her Admiral over the past few years, Soren tends to call him by his first name in more private settings, though during official functions and in front of others, she still refers to Jos�� by his formal title.

    After Soren wanders away, Jos�� nods at Grundle.

    "I won''t use either of my hands. Try to throw me to the floor, alright? I''ll win if I throw you down first."

    Despite the conditions in Grundle''s favor, he quickly becomes uneasy. "Err... yes, Admiral. But... how badly are you about to thrash me? You know I''m not your match."

    "It''s been a few months since we last fought," Jos�� says, folding his hands behind his back. "Who knows? Maybe you''ll win this time."

    Grundle''s eyes darken.

    "But I won''t."

    "Not with that attitude. Now, come on! Stop dawdling and take me down!"

    The grey-scaled Kraktol shudders.

    "I''ll... I''ll try!"

    He hunkers down for a moment to adjust his breathing, then darts toward the Admiral, wrapping him in a bear hug.

    Just as Grundle starts to toss the smaller Terran aside, Jos�� repositions his right leg to firm his footing, then sweeps out his left leg and twists his shoulder.

    Thump!

    The Admiral wriggles out of Grundle''s grasp and throws the Kraktol behind him, causing Grundle to heavily impact the floor.

    "Again!" Jos�� says.

    "Graugh..." Grundle moans. He quickly jumps to his feet while rubbing his tail. "Are you sure you didn''t use your hands?"

    "I didn''t!" Jos�� yells. "Again!"

    Once more, Grundle lunges forward. He lands on his ass a second time, then a third, and a fourth too.

    Ten times he tries to tackle the Admiral, but in each instance, the slippery little fellow slithers away and trips Grundle, leaving the Kraktol sprawled on the deck.

    "Your hand-to-hand training is more than adequate to earn you a spot among the Kraktol elite," Jos�� declares, after his eleventh consecutive throw-down. "But against someone who knows what they''re doing, it''s simply pitiful! I''m assigning you five S-rank solo missions against Terran-sims. If you can''t win five in a row, you''ll never beat me in an equal battle."

    "But that''s the thing..." Grundle complains. "I don''t think I ever can. You''re just too good, Admiral. You''re a way better fighter than me."

    "Tsk. Where did your backbone go?" Jos�� asks. "Aren''t you my hardest-working Officer? You trained with all you had to become the first augmented Kraktol ever, yet now you want to give up?"

    "No, no, it isn''t like that..." Grundle explains. "It''s just... training my muscles and body is one thing, but I... I don''t think I''m all that good of a fighter. Graugh! I''m not smart enough to fight well."

    "You''re wrong," Soren says, finally stepping into the conversation. "The problem you face isn''t one of capability, but confidence. You still hold onto your old self-image as a scrawny weakling. Even after all your advancements, you think you won''t ever be able to reach the Admiral''s heights. You keep looking at him as an impassable mountain, when really you ought to consider him a scalable peak."

    Soren pauses for emphasis.

    "...You idolize the Admiral too much, Grundle. Stop thinking about how you owe him a life debt. Instead, focus on overcoming him. You can definitely beat Jos�� if you work hard. Even the Admiral himself has said so."

    Jos�� nods. "Soren is right. The Kraktol already stand above humanity in terms of their bodily capabilities. Once you successfully augmented your biology, you became more than capable of beating the crap out of me."

    The Admiral laughs wryly. "Besides. I''m not that strong. I was actually one of Ramma''s weaker warriors. My buddy Nick beat me two times over."

    Several seconds pass while Grundle allows the Admiral''s words to percolate in his mind.

    "...Graugh. Hmm. Perhaps you are right. I have overthought this matter. Every time we fight, I lose... so I assumed I would never be able to win. Even thought I clearly possess the means, I have limited myself by holding such a narrow world-view."

    Grundle turns to look Jos�� in the eyes. "I will work hard to beat you one day, Admiral. If I am to become your bodyguard, then surely I must also possess more strength than my boss!"

    Jos�� claps Grundle''s shoulder. "See? Now there''s the spirit. I look forward to that day, Grundle."

    After gazing at his cute giant crocodile for a moment, Jos��''s expression becomes more solemn.

    "But seriously. Win five S-rank training sessions in a row, or you''ll never stand a chance. Don''t let me down!"

    Grundle sighs helplessly. "Yes, Admiral."

 Chapter 65: Year Five - Arrival

    "Oooh, those diced steak pieces look good! Can I try a bite?"

    "Sure! I''ll trade you for half of that hard-boiled egg!"

    Inside the Bloodbearer''s Mess Hall, hundreds of Kessu and Kraktol mill together, their moods all but completely harmonious, especially compared to when the Kraktol first strode aboard the Bloodbearer five years before. With only twenty-four hours left before the ship exits Inverted Space, a certain level of anticipation fills the crew with excitement.

    Admiral Rodriguez wanders over to a random table, one with a small group of Kessu and Kraktol yammering at each other. He plops down in the middle, drawing dozens of eyeballs toward him.

    "Oh, Great Precursor! Tomorrow''s the big day!" One Kessu lady exclaims. "Are you excited? Nervous?"

    Jos�� spoons a big bite of mashed potatoes and gravy into his mouth, savoring the texture. After swallowing, he shrugs. "Not particularly. The operation will be a little troublesome, but otherwise, I doubt anything that happens will surprise me."

    "That''s the Admiral for you!" A male Kraktol roars. "Guy''s made of steel! Not a shred of fear in his eyes! Did I tell you about the S-Rank simulation he joined last week? It was crazy! Three thousand orcs, goblins, and all kinds of other crazy monsters came running at him! He didn''t even blink!"

    The Kraktol continues regaling everyone with the story of Jos��''s incredible bravery, but the Admiral tunes him out. His eyes flick back and forth as Umi streams refresher information to his iris module.

    Enchillon. A typical Type-M rock-world suitable for habitation. A formidable 21st Era battlestation orbits it, while two other low-tech stations orbit its nearest moon.

    Estimated population: Three Hundred and Fourteen Billion sentients. More than fifty thousand sentient species roam its landmasses. It only has one small ocean of around eight hundred miles in circumference.

    A three-dimensional map appears in the Admiral''s vision, one which details the geography of the entire planet. Having obtained it from Orgon''s computers several years earlier, its actual age is some twentyish years out of date, but that doesn''t bother the Admiral.

    Fascinating. The world''s topography has certainly changed since I last visited. One hundred million years of tectonic shifting has given birth to several minor mountain ranges, while also compressing and deepening Enchillon''s lone ocean. Some of the structures in its major cities even appear vaguely familiar to me. The Mallali must have built their capitol right on top of the old Terran ruins.

    Admiral Rodriguez takes another bite of mashed potatoes, mixing up the flavor with some green beans, corn, and a rather exotic fish-like plant from an outer-rim world.

    This ''Leshu'' is quite tasty, but a bit too spongey for my liking... The Admiral thinks. He chews the salty seafood contemplatively before returning to his previous thoughts. Given the number of Sentients in the galaxy, I won''t stick out on Enchillon. At least, that''s what Soren and Sapphire claimed. There are so many minor species with two or three thousand living members that a random oddball like me will probably only turn a few curious heads. If anything, my tall stature will make me stand out. I''ll have to bring Grundle along, since he''ll surely draw all the attention to himself.

    As the Admiral thinks, a pittering of paws catches his attention. He turns his head just in time for a tiny feline to poke his back.

    "Boo! Scared you!"

    Jos�� lowers his eyes and smiles. "Lulu! How are you doing, kiddo?"

    The Admiral leans backward and scoops up a tiny three-year-old kitten, much smaller than Lele when he first met her. This ball of white fluff claws onto his coat excitedly. "I''m learning my ACD''s! Big sis teaching me real good!"

    The Admiral pets her head gently. "Haha! You''ll have to work hard if you want to become as smart as your big sister! Speaking of which, where is that little cutie, anyway?"

    Jos�� glances around the Cafeteria. He easily spots Lele mixed within a horde of other furry Kessu, her distinctive orange Science Officer uniform standing out from the rest.

    Lele, as if sensing Jos��''s gaze, turns to look at the Admiral. She climbs off her bench and walks over to greet him.

    "Hello, Admiral. I''m sorry, I didn''t realize my sister ran off to bug you again."

    "It''s fine!" Jos�� declares, while handing Lulu over to Lele. "She''s just as cute as you! Say, why have you started calling me ''Admiral'' lately, eh? It''s fine! Just keep calling me Big Baldy."

    Lele lowers her head, clearly embarrassed. "I''m not a kitten anymore, Admiral. I''m all grown up now, you know."

    "Nah, you''re still a cute little kitty to me," Jos�� says, as he reaches over to pet her head. "You always will be!"

    Just before Jos�� can touch Lele''s hair, she shyly ducks away. "Um, I still need to finish my food. I''ll... talk to you later!"

    Lele turns and walks away, her pace a bit faster than before. She holds Lulu in her arms, bringing her little sister back to the table with the rest of the family, including Ruuki and his wife.

    Several seconds pass. A strange look appears in the Admiral''s eye before he turns back to his food.

    "...The heck was that all about? Lele''s been acting strange for months, now."

    Jos�� only murmurs those words, but an adjacent Kessu still overhears his mumbling.

    "Hehe. Oh, Great Precursor. Don''t you know? Lele is already eleven years old! She''s almost reached her mating age. She''ll probably start going into heat soon, once the right season hits. It''s like that for all the Kessu girls."

    Jos��''s expression turns glum. "Mating, huh? Right. You Kessu have fairly rapid biological cycles. I completely forgot."

    The Admiral pokes at his potatoes, but most of his appetite disappears. After forcing himself to swallow a few more bites, he sighs.

    "Kids sure grow up fast. It wasn''t all that long ago Lele was just a cute little kitten meowing at me for attention. Now she''s already one of the Bloodbearer''s senior technology researchers, along with her aunt Lorrie."

    The old Kessu nods. He tears off a piece of Codfish and swallows it down, then chuckles.

    "That''s what happens! Kids grow up, they mate and have more kids, and then they grow old and die. Nothin'' weird about it if you ask me-ow!"

    Jos�� shrugs. "Still feels strange. I''m not used to living among people who all... age so fast. Most of my fellow Terrans lived for thousands of years."

    "From what I hear," the Kessu replies, "there are some age-extending magic-spells the Mallali and Rodak elites use. Like Miss Lorrie. She''s thousands of years old, too. The rest of us won''t live anywhere as long as her. Same is true of the Kraktol leader-lady too. The Tool-pick."

    "Well, it''s not quite ''magic,''" Jos�� starts to explain, then immediately gives up. "But I suppose you can call it that. Anyway, nice chat. I''ve got to head back to the Bridge and prep for arrival."

    Seeing the Admiral stand up, the whole table turns lively.

    "Bye, Great Precursor!"

    "Here''s to hoping your big mission works out!"

    "Maybe we can all take a holiday on that Mallali world, eh?"

    Jos�� politely waves at the table of crew, then wanders over and dumps his leftover food in a nutrient deconstructor.

    "Only twenty-four hours left," the Admiral murmurs.

    .......................................

    The next day.

    Jos�� plops down on the Admiral''s chair, while Soren sits in the First Officer''s chair to his right, and Grundle in the Second Officer''s chair on his left.

    Despite Grundle''s relatively low knowledge-base, he still makes for a decent backup pilot. He pays attention to the Bloodbearer''s gravimetric readings as the Bridge''s arrival timer counts down to zero.

    "All readings nominal, graugh!" Grundle declares. "No issues reported in the Engineering Bay!"

    "We''re exiting Inverted Space in three seconds," Soren adds.

    Moments later, the Bloodbearer''s forward displays shift, winking tens of millions of tiny stars into existence from the previously pitch-black void outside. The Bloodbearer doesn''t even momentarily vibrate from the exit sequence.

    "Impressive work," Jos�� says, directing his words at Soren. "You and Lorrie solved that longstanding engine shudder when transitioning from FTL-space."

    "Lele helped us," Soren replies, still fixing her eyes on the various readings before her. "We''ve arrived half a lightyear out from Enchillon''s star. That should keep us plenty far away from any casual or directed scans."

    Jos�� nods. His eyes flicker rapidly as he peruses the incoming scan-data.

    "Hm? What''s this? No way!"

    Jos��''s shout of surprise catches Soren off-guard. She quickly turns her head to look at him. "What''s the matter, Admiral? Did you detect a hidden enemy?"

    "No, no, nothing like that," Jos�� says. "I just... I discovered a blip in P-space. Does Enchillon possess a Quantum Entanglement Node?"

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Soren stares at him for three full seconds before replying. "...Of course. Does that surprise you?"

    "Does it surprise me?" Jos�� repeats. "Naturally! I... well, I sort of assumed they''d all have decayed after humanity went extinct."

    Soren nods in realization. "Ah, I see. Yes, Quantum Entanglement Nodes still exist inside the Galactic Core, and a few species, such as the Kraktol, also have one orbiting their homeworld. Nobody knows how to actually build a QEN, so any planet with one protects it with a substantial military force."

    As Jos�� and Soren talk, Grundle turns to them in confusion. "Graugh? What is a Quantum Entanglement Node?"

    "I''m surprised you don''t know," Soren answers. "It''s basically a giant satellite that can transmits streams of data instantaneously to any point in space. Any QEN can connect to any other one. It''s how distant frontier worlds like Dragua can always stay up to date on the happenings in the Core."

    "Back in Terran times," Jos�� says, "QEN''s weren''t anything special. Most planets had one, sometimes even two, if only for backup. I didn''t see one around Tarus II, so I assumed they all fell apart. QENs aren''t exactly durable. They require a lot of maintenance and fine-tuning to keep their frequencies aligned."

    "During the Sentient Expansion Era," Soren explains, "the Kessu often found and rebuilt any nodes wherever they found them. Most of the galaxy''s current nodes got put up by the Kessu thousands of years ago."

    "Sounds like they''ve become quite the important strategic resource," Jos�� mutters. "If one of them breaks, that planet can say goodbye to their galactic trading capabilities."

    ...

    Many minutes later, Jos�� and Soren finish performing several long-range scans.

    "We''ve stopped beyond the reach of any typical shipping lanes," Soren says. "I doubt anyone will pass through this section of space for the next few days."

    Jos�� rises from his chair. "Good. Grundle, Soren, you two will come with me. We''ll have Sapphire join us on this journey. The Slipstream can fly us the rest of the way to Enchillon, undetected."

    As the Admiral starts to leave, his First and Second Officers fall into position behind him. Their formidable appearance and domineering stature turns the three of them into the mightiest beings on the ship.

    "You''re sure we can''t bring any Kessu with us?" Jos�� asks.

    Soren shakes her head. "Not even one. Especially not Lorrie. Kessu barely exist outside of Tarus II. All the remnant stragglers barely amount to a couple thousand across dozens of planets. They''re all slaves to powerful warlords, including the Th��lvik."

    "Mmm. Slaves..." Admiral Rodriguez mutters, his gaze hardening. "Of all the horrific practices one can engage in, I detest few more than slavery. It is among the most foul and heretical acts one can foist upon a fellow man. Not even one''s worst enemy deserves such demeaning treatment."

    Soren appears less convinced. "It''s a punishment like any other."

    Grundle, too, doesn''t seem to mind. "If you win a war, you enslave the losers, make ''em work for you. I don''t see the problem."

    Jos�� clicks his tongue, but doesn''t retort. "My reasons for detesting slavery are both boundless and infinite. If I ever catch anyone calling themselves my ally while performing such a barbaric practice, I will unleash the fires of creation upon them."

    Noticing the severity in his voice, both Officers merely nod.

    "Yes, Admiral."

    ...

    A bit later, Soren and Grundle take up the Slipstream''s controls, while half a dozen other Kraktol staff the other essential parts of the ship''s processes, if only to serve as emergency backup personnel in case of an emergency. Among them is Sapphire, who keeps uncharacteristically silent while tending to her duties.

    "Greetings, Admiral Rodriguez. I have reconfigured the Slipstream to its most effective stealth profile and input the designated coordinates for your destination." Synthmind 4131 chirps cheerfully above. "Do you have any further orders?"

    "No," Jos�� says. "Take us away. I''m somewhat eager to see the core of Mallali space."

    "As you command."

    Jos�� settles into the Captain''s Chair. He watches silently as the Slipstream lifts off the hangar deck and flies out of the airlock, passing through the oxygen-shield membrane without a hitch. Seconds later, it activates its FTL drive for a quick burst into the inner system, then decelerates after a few minutes, arriving within ten million kilometers of Enchillon itself.

    The moment the Slipstream exits FTL-space, it becomes undetectable to all pre-50th Era sensors. Its surface shimmers and liquefies, making it invisible to the naked eye as well, while its heat signature diminishes to nothing.

    "This vessel never fails to amaze me..." Jos�� murmurs. "Just who in the hell had the ability to craft such an advanced ship?"

    The Slipstream materializes several images of Enchillon in the Bridge''s center while also feeding images directly to the Admiral''s neo-cortex implants. Within seconds, Jos�� gets a much better picture of the planet''s current status.

    Hundreds of thousands of spaceships pass to and from Enchillon. The planet''s musky grey surface, mostly composed of rock and deliberately-constructed buildings, doesn''t appear anywhere as lush and lively as Tarus II. Its atmosphere is one choked with fumes and smog capable of sucking the life out of its inhabitants.

    Jos�� manipulates a holographic image of Enchillon''s capital city, New Pongi, a sprawling megapolis with over twenty billion inhabitants spread across three hundred square miles of infrastructure.

    "Mmm. Interesting."

    Soren follows the Admiral''s movements, watching as he manipulates the holograms, rotating, spinning, and zooming as he pleases.

    "Is something on your mind?" Soren asks.

    Jos�� sighs. "Remember what I told you a few years ago? About the Volgrim, and the First Founder''s magnum opus?"

    "Order to Chaos?" Soren replies. "I do."

    "Well, now''s a good time to practice," Jos�� says. "Look at this city. What do you see?"

    Soren falls silent. She gazes at the city for over a minute while the Slipstream hovers idly in orbit, not moving in until the Admiral gives his order.

    "I... don''t know. I''ve forgotten most of what you said. Something about the city''s configuration revealing its inhabitants culture... but beyond that, I don''t remember."

    "That''s too bad..." Jos�� mutters. "When I look at New Pongi, I see..."

    He pauses for a moment, as if to search for the right word.

    "...Arrogance. Not just any arrogance, but foolish, deluded arrogance. The entire way this city was constructed reeks of some poor delusional fool imagining himself a god among ants."

    Jos�� points at a random group of two hundred buildings on the eastern side of the city.

    "Look here. This appears to be an industrial sector. See those pipes pumping smoke into the sky? Arrogant. Look at the city''s foundations. Someone constructed those facilities right over a residential neighborhood. A ghetto, by the looks of the underlying buildings. They didn''t build there out of necessity, but because they didn''t give one iota of a damn about the poor sods trapped underneath. For all these industrialists cared, even if the ''poors'' never again bore witness to the sun shining upon their homes, it wouldn''t matter. They''re lower class citizens, and thus, their lives never mattered in the slightest."

    The Admiral motions toward a huge facility to the north. "And just look at this monstrosity. It fancies itself a museum, a place where statues of the old Mallali Founders can stand for all eternity. But someone built it next door to another ghetto! Why? All so they could crush the impoverished peoples with despair, knowing their betters would never allow them to set foot inside a place so extravagant."

    Clearly growing angrier by the minute, the Admiral gnashes his teeth. "Enchillon always was a bastard of a planet. My brother escaped a life of enslavement, yet it has only grown worse since Terrankind''s fall. How sad. How repulsive. I can''t believe I''m saying this, but I think Enchillon''s former debauchery might have been an improvement over its modern failings."

    Soren nods along neutrally. "You seem fairly worked up about this, Jos��. I hope you''ll keep your rationality intact once we land. The situation is much worse on the surface compared to what we see from space."

    Admiral Rodriguez nods. "Yes, I''ll be fine. I''ve seen plenty of shitholes in my day. It''s just that Enchillon has grown markedly worse compared to my era... it took me by surprise."

    Everyone falls silent. They return their attention to the Slipstream''s descent, making sure nothing goes wrong during their planetary approach. Several crew members hold their breaths as Synthmind 4131 reports multiple wide-area scanning beams flickering past them, but not even the Core''s advanced technology manages to detect the Slipstream.

    "Enchillon doesn''t have a Planetary Shield anymore..." Jos�� murmurs. "During the Terran Era, practically all planets did. It was the most effective way to guarantee a band of marauders wouldn''t irradiate worlds from space. Especially the Children of Gh��l. They would do anything to exterminate sentient life."

    "Why were they such extremists?" Soren asks.

    "I''m not entirely sure. From what Command let on, the Children of Gh��l believed humanity was a vile species, one in need of extermination. They sought to ''improve'' us by removing our ''negative emotions,'' such as fear and greed. Ironically, the abominations they created all ended up carrying humanity''s worst traits ten times over, with none of our redeeming qualities."

    "Maybe your Command lied to you?" Soren offers. "The Children of Gh��l might have had completely different goals. Ramma''s leadership simply didn''t keep you and the other rank-and-file in the know."

    Jos�� waves her suggestion away. "Nonsense. Command trained us all to be elite warriors who protected humanity''s purity. Gh��l''s monsters were impure heretics. Their destruction was in everyone''s best interests."

    The Admiral''s confident tone leaves no room for doubting his words, so Soren merely shrugs. "If you insist."

    "What, you don''t believe me?" Jos�� asks. "I have no reason to lie."

    "Of course not. But that doesn''t mean your former leaders didn''t. Look, Jos��, do you really think such a powerful militaristic faction would tell their grunts all the details? You once told me you found implants belonging to the Third Hand inside the Bloodbearer''s medical facilities. Those weren''t stolen; they were created in partnership with one of your worst enemies. Why would an organization dedicated to protecting humanity''s ''purity'' join claws with such evil heretics if that were the case?"

    The Admiral falters. "I... I don''t know. They must have had good reasons."

    Soren glances at Jos��, her eyes glinting with insight. "Good reasons? Or simple greed? No power structure stays in perfect condition forever. Perhaps someone corrupted your faction''s once-noble ideals for their own benefit."

    Admiral Rodriguez lowers his eyes. "Mmm. Maybe..."

    They fall silent once again as the Slipstream descends through Enchillon''s atmosphere, directly over the city''s center. Immediately, hundreds of vehicles begin flying past them, whooshing by at dangerous speeds.

    Synthmind 4131 beeps in alarm. "Warning. Maintaining total stealth at this altitude will raise the likelihood of a collision to unacceptable levels. With other craft unable to detect the Slipstream''s presence, they will not be able to avert their course in time."

    Jos�� nods. "I expected as much. Gather enough data from nearby vessels to craft a dummy profile, then beam it out so others can detect and avoid us. Make sure our identity is somewhat benign. We don''t want to draw any attention to ourselves."

    "Orders acknowledged, Admiral Rodriguez. Altering stealth profile now."

    The Slipstream doesn''t visibly change, but as it descends, the number of hover vehicles flying within fifty feet of it diminish significantly, their autopiloting systems automatically rerouting to avoid the Slipstream''s huge, bulky mass.

    Enchillon proves to be a powerhouse of industry, a world filled to the brim with factories spitting out fumes, political structures towering over the masses, and countless ghettos built at the bottom layer of the city, the most poor and impoverished people barely scraping by.

    Countless vehicles fly through the air, most of them substandard 5th to 25th-Era luxury or transport craft. Not only hover-taxis, but ritzy limousines and bulky hauling vehicles for garbage and goods fly through the air.

    Jos�� carefully examines the level of technology, then nods to himself.

    Enchillon is certainly far more advanced than Tarus II; there''s no debate. But compared to its Terran days, this planet has become a total dump.

    As the Slipstream flies across the planet''s skies, its massive presence draws little attention. While the Slipstream appears ten or even twenty times larger than any of the other craft flying through the air, its bullet-shaped body makes it look much slimmer than it actually is. Additionally, its stealth profile makes its presence hazy, as if obscured by mist.

    It flies past numerous towering spires, factories, and other such buildings, traveling toward the city''s outskirts.

    "Put us down half a mile from any nearby structure," Jos�� says. "We''ll walk toward the city''s center."

    "Walk?" Soren repeats. "Admiral, we''ll have to travel tens of miles to reach the Mallali leaders'' bases. Not to mention getting past their security, we''ll have to cross dozens of security checkpoints along the way. I don''t have any identification that can allow us inside the high-security zones."

    The Admiral waves his hand dismissively. "Don''t worry. I installed several augments just for our trip. We''ll make it inside just fine. Trust me, I''ve done this a million times."

    Soren appears unenthusiastic, despite her Admiral''s confidence. "If you insist."

    Once the Slipstream reaches a surprisingly barren, open area, it climbs toward a small, rocky hill. Dangerous predators snarl at the descending ''sky monster,'' only to whimper and run away as it hovers overhead.

    "Put us down behind those rocks," Jos�� says.

    "Yes, Admiral."

    Synthmind 4131 expertly guides the Slipstream to a small, narrow canyon, and places down. It easily navigates the confined space, then beeps in affirmation.

    "The Slipstream has made landfall, Admiral."

    Jos�� sucks in a long breath.

    "Finally. Now the fun can begin."

 Chapter 66: New Pongis Border

    Jos��, Soren, Grundle, and Sapphire all stroll down the Slipstream''s forward-facing entry ramp, then wait as the ship closes up behind them.

    "Keep an eye out for my signal," Jos�� says, his words reaching the remaining crew inside the Slipstream. "This operation could always go wrong. If necessary, you might need to drop by and pick us up."

    "Yes, Admiral." The Slipstream''s crew reply.

    Jos�� glances at his three accompanying Kraktol and nods. "Let''s go."

    The four of them start exiting the narrow canyon, its forty-foot walls barely worth mentioning compared to the practically bottomless ravines of other planets. The desert-like rocky ground and air don''t bother Jos�� much, but the swamp-dwelling Kraktol clearly seem annoyed by the arid climate.

    "I''m going to need to soak my scales for a week after we leave," Sapphire complains. "Let''s hurry up and get to the city''s limits. Our comfort will improve greatly once we pass the border walls."

    "Have you visited New Pongi before?" Jos�� asks.

    "Of course! Kyargh!" Sapphire replies. "All of us have. Me, Soren, and Grundle too."

    "Actually, I haven''t," Grundle counters. "Lord Drall visited a few times, but I had to stay aboard the Red-Tongue along with the other low-ranking crew. We weren''t allowed off-ship."

    Sapphire waves her claw dismissively. "Then you''re in for a ride, little bro. New Pongi is the most technologically advanced city in the whole galaxy. It''s got all kinds of fun stuff you can do, but also a bunch of real bad warm-bloods you have to keep your eyes on."

    Jos�� scratches his chin. "I''m surprised the Mallali allowed Lord Drall to come here. Aren''t the Kraktol and Mallali enemies?"

    "We are," Soren replies. "However, despite that fact, we aren''t yet at the point of unyielding conquest. The Mallali still grant Rodaks certain concessions. Politics is a tricky business, Admiral."

    "You''re not wrong..." Jos�� murmurs.

    ...

    It takes Admiral Rodriguez and his three Kraktol officers more than a full day to reach the city''s limits. Having to set the ship down so far from civilization forces them to walk much further than necessary, but even so, with minimal rest, their party of four eventually travels the ten or so miles to the absolute edge of New Pongi''s borders.

    Before them, a huge wall sixty feet high rises. Above it, the new arrivals can see all sorts of distant towers, buildings, and skyscrapers. Some particularly giant factories even loom directly over the walls, poking past their borders to try and swallow up the airspace.

    While Grundle oohs and ahhs, the other two Kraktol and their Admiral appear much less impressed.

    "What a dump..." Jos�� mutters. "If I wanted to cross the barrier, I could hop the border effortlessly. The Mallali surveillance equipment is pretty ramshackle."

    "New Pongi''s borders aren''t really intended to do much more than keep out the local wildlife," Soren explains. "The local officials would like to monitor new arrivals too, but beyond that, the city is mostly open to travelers."

    "I see..." Jos�� mutters.

    They walk over to the only opening in the wall for multiple miles in any direction, where a short queue of Mallali species line up to wait their turn. After falling in at the back of the line, Jos�� eyes the Mallali in front of him, a scraggly rabbit-looking creature with torn-up ears. The poor fellow looks as if he got in a fight with a huge monster and barely made it out alive.

    Sensing the Terran''s eyes boring into the back of his head, the Rabbit turn around and scowls.

    "You lookin'' at me?"

    Jos�� stares the Rabbit down. "I am. What''s it to you?"

    The Mallali glances from side to side, noticing the three Kraktol behind Jos��, one of whom towers like a mountain of scales. Whoever Jos�� is, the Rabbit quickly picks up he must be someone of an uncommon origin.

    "...Err, sorry. Sometimes I run my mouth," the Rabbit says, before turning back around.

    "No harm, no foul." Jos�� says.

    Jos��''s iris-scanners retrieve the Rabbit''s body parameters, then pull together a genetic profile for the Terran''s perusal.

    Species: Tirbi. Galactic population density: Low. A nomadic species that likes to keep to themselves, the Tirbi tend to avoid confrontation except for self-defensive purposes.

    "Hmm..." Jos�� grunts.

    Half an hour later, the Admiral and his crew reach the front of the line. When they step forward, two skinny Dakkit guards look at the Human with questioning gazes.

    "Species?" One of the Dakkit, a fellow resembling a grey wolf, asks.

    "Terran," Jos�� replies.

    The Dakkit guard scrolls through his datapad slowly, perusing all the species in the ''T'' section.

    "Tirbi... Trellut... Tromdol... ruff! Never heard of you! Your kind doesn''t show up in my logs."

    Having already worked out what to do in this situation with his officers a year before, the Admiral merely nods. "Yes, my people are a Class III Mallali species. I''ve come to New Pongi to apply for a Classification ID on their behalf."

    The Dakkit guard eyes Jos�� warily. "Mallali, huh? Where''s all your fur?"

    Jos�� points at his scalp. "Here."

    "Arf! What kind of self-respecting fella only has fur on the top of his-?"

    Before the guard can continue, his companion, a fearsome-looking Great Dane, barks. "Borf! Horace! Not all Mallali have fur. You know that. Stop holding up the line with your incessant questions."

    Horace shies away at his companion''s words. "Alright, alright. I''m just following procedure. Doesn''t this fella look a bit suspicious to you? He''s even got a trio of slime-scales following him. I bet they''re here to cause trouble."

    Hearing the vicious slur casually slip from the Dakkit guard''s mouth, Grundle''s eyes flash with fury. "You little punk. Say that again! I dare you!"

    He takes a step forward, startling both guards. Only when Grundle starts to approach them do they realize how gigantic the Kraktol really is.

    "Borf! Mother of Dakkit!" The loudmouthed guard squeaks in fright, while taking two steps back.

    "Grundle, calm yourself," Jos�� says, holding up his hand. "You two. Have you approved our passage, or are you going to cause us trouble? I''d advise you not direct any more insults toward my companions. Grundle here isn''t the best at controlling his anger."

    Both of the Dakkit nervously glance at one another, then nod.

    "Right, uh, everything seems to be in order," Horace says. He quickly steps aside, then gestures with his paw. "M-move along."

    Jos�� nods and walks through the border, while his followers trail behind him. Grundle, at the back of the line, snarls at the guard as he passes.

    "You''d best watch yourself, little puppy."

    After they leave and put some distance between themselves and the Dakkit guards, Jos�� sighs.

    "Grundle, please try to limit your primal urges during this trip."

    "My apologies, Admiral," Grundle says, straightening his posture. "I didn''t like the look in that mutt''s eyes. Had to remind him how scary the galaxy can be."

    Jos�� admonishes the massive reptile. "I''m sure that dog wet himself twice over, but if he''d called for backup, we''d be in a bit of a pinch."

    "Right. I''ll rein myself in next time," Grundle mutters, slightly embarrassed.

    ...

    Jos�� and the gang stride through the border into New Pongi, arriving within a city steeped in depravity. Countless posters stick to the walls of an adjacent building, depicting vile sexual acts involving all different sorts of species, each one directing the reader to a titillating nightclub on the city''s western side. Graffiti covers up some of the posters, with many words written in cryptic languages not even Jos��''s universal translator can decipher.

    Soren''s eyes widen as she glances at one of the sexually depraved posters. "Goodness! I didn''t know you could do that with a Rodak tail."

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Sapphire laughs. "Oh, you''re too innocent, Soren. Perhaps you, me, and Darling can try experimenting later."

    Jos�� ignores them. His eyes flick around the dilapidated buildings to the residents sitting inside and nearby the housing complexes. All of them look somewhat seedy.

    "Seems we''ve landed in the bad part of town," Jos�� says. "We''ll be hard-pressed to find a taxi here. Let''s keep heading north until we reach a better area."

    Hardly has Jos�� finished his words before a giant, armored hover-van descends toward them. The doors fly open as it reaches the ground, and half a dozen Mallali donning patchwork combat gear jump out while aiming guns at the Admiral and his crew.

    "Hands where we can see them, slimeballs!" A hulkish bull-type Mallali, a Bulin, bellows. "Braaam! Hand over your credits, or you''re dead meat."

    To Jos��''s surprise, a five-foot-tall Kessu also stands among the gangsters, his appearance resembling Ruuki''s, but significantly taller. Like a tiger waiting to strike, the Kessu pops out his claws and drops low to the ground.

    "Mraaaow! Filthy Rodaks! How dare you trespass in our territory!"

    Not one of the gangsters pays Jos�� the slightest attention. Instead, they direct all of their vitriol toward his Kraktol companions, making Jos�� realize how poorly the Mallali and Rodaks must get along.

    Soren, Grundle, and Sapphire all stare at their would-be attackers with slackened jaws, as if a group of toddlers had marched up and proclaimed themselves kings. Each of the Mallali gangsters wears ripped-apart black leather outfits, sometimes with cheap armor plates stitched onto the chests, offering only the most meager of protection.

    "...Are you serious?" Grundle asks. "Leave while you still can, punks. I don''t want to hurt a bunch of hatchlings."

    The nearest Mallali, a muscular yet obese Boar-alien, snarls derisively. "Shut your mouths! Heeork! I can''t stand the sound of a Krak''s tongue slappin'' around! Hand over your shit, now!"

    Jos�� shakes his head. What a pain.

    The Admiral doesn''t even issue a direct command. He simply takes a few steps backward and gestures toward the gangsters.

    "Have at ''em."

    Soren and Sapphire don''t bother moving, but Grundle does. The giant crocodile suddenly starts stomping toward the Mallali, startling them and making the Bulin swivel his energy-shotgun toward Grundle.

    BLAM!!

    A thunderous boom erupts from the weapon''s barrel as its payload flies at Grundle, only for those bullets to bounce off a powerful energy shield surrounding him.

    For a split-second, every Mallali gangster stares at the incoming crocodile with confusion.

    That confusion turns to terror.

    "F-force field!" The Boar-Mallali shouts. "He''s got a force field!"

    "Skreow!" The Kessu curses. "Since when do Kraks have those?!"

    The tiger-Kessu pounces at Grundle, intending to use his speed and claws to dive behind the Kraktol and take him out in a single blow. Instead, Grundle steps to the side and slaps downward with his hand.

    Whap! Whump!

    With one decisive strike, Grundle smashes the Kessu''s face into the concrete, killing him without mercy. Not even his time with the Kessu aboard the Bloodbearer has stunted Grundle''s killing instincts toward their species. He doesn''t hold back at all.

    The sudden death of one of their comrades disturbs the other five Mallali, shaking them out of complacency. "He killed Morgu! Shoot him, quick!"

    A hail of gunfire, consisting mostly of low-tech ballistic weaponry, splatters against Grundle''s energy shield. The Kraktol continues calmly stomping into his enemy''s ranks.

    Slap! Slap! Whump!

    Grundle doesn''t even use one percent of his combat skills. He rips apart and impales the gangsters with such ease that his friends can''t miss the boredom on his face.

    A minute later, he slays the Boar-Mallali, then turns back to the rest.

    "Looks like we''ve got a ride now," Grundle says, gesturing toward the gangsters'' van.

    "Good work," Jos�� says, walking toward the passengers'' seat. "Soren, you drive."

    The Admiral stomps across the blood-covered dirt, paying little attention to the dead mosquitoes who idiotically stood in his way.

    "What''s the matter, Grundle?" Jos�� asks, as he slides into the passenger seat. "You look disappointed."

    Grundle lightly touches his belt, where his Survival Suit rests.

    "Graugh. I feel unfulfilled. Those punks didn''t put up much of a fight. I''d have had more trouble clearing a D-Rank simulation, even without this suit."

    "That''s what happens when you fight as Terrans do," Jos�� replies, closing his door. "Once you''ve trained inside a Terran simulation, a lot of so-called ''high stress situations'' lose their fear-inducing nature. Just five years ago, you''d have probably been scared to death facing down six heavily armed thugs. Now look at you. You didn''t even blink."

    Grundle climbs into the back of the van along with Sapphire, a look of contemplation on his face.

    "I suppose you are right. Graugh! I did not realize your training would have such... long lasting effects."

    "Yeah, well, don''t get too complacent. You were still pretty sloppy. Your Survival Suit did most of the heavy lifting in that fight."

    A minute later, the hover-van lifts into the air, leaving its deceased former occupants behind, their bodies slowly becoming one with the filthy outer ghettos.

    It takes to the skies, guided by Soren''s control. While not the best pilot, Soren still controls the vehicle effortlessly, using its built-in navigation software as required.

    Jos��''s eyes rove around the cabin, where plenty of garbage left behind by the gangsters has accumulated over the years. Food wrappings, drugs, and even some spare cash sits haphazardly here and there, meshing poorly with the vehicle''s other characteristics.

    Despite the van''s overall filth, its technology level appears relatively decent, sitting at the apex of the 12th Era. It looks to have been scavenged from a junkyard and then rebuilt to military standards, making it substantially more armored and agile than a civilian-grade vehicle.

    "This van ain''t bad..." Jos�� mutters. "It even has a few covert weapons. Not much firepower, but decent for taking out lightly armored targets."

    "Most weapons are forbidden inside New Pongi''s city limits," Soren says. "This vehicle is almost definitely a stolen military transport. I don''t know how those low-level thugs got ahold of it, but they probably have a decent backer. There''s likely a bigger gang running things behind the scenes that equipped them with this rig."

    Jos�� shrugs. "If they want to make trouble with me, they can try. I don''t mind. We won''t be sticking around for long anyway."

    ...

    An hour passes. The armored vehicle''s top speed proves much worse than expected, slowing the trip to New Pongi''s city center substantially. Jos�� stares out his passenger window, eyeballing the scenery below. As time passes, the filthy outer ghettos give way to moderately cleaner inner-ghettos, and eventually, mere low-level poverty housing.

    The closer Jos�� and his crew draw to the city center, the higher the standard of living becomes, though it frequently drops off a cliff at random as they pass over areas best described as ''hellish warzones.''

    "Damn," Jos�� says, while he watches a duo of gangs blasting each other to shreds below, their bodies exploding as bullets tear through their organs. "This city is a complete shitshow. It seems like every quarter mile, we stumble across another civil war."

    "Don''t let anyone pull the wool over your eyes," Soren says tersely. "The Mallali may all fall under the same prime-species umbrella, but they are far from unified. If the Mallali aren''t fighting the Rodaks, they''re infighting among themselves. Enchillon is one of the less politically violent worlds colonized by multiple species, and it still suffers from mass-gang-warfare. Only worlds led by a single dominant species, such as Dragua, can achieve a high level of internal stability."

    The Admiral nods. "I see. Funny, I assumed that aside from inter-species conflicts, each ''prime-species'' wouldn''t fight much among themselves. Even Terrans within the same coalition rarely fought, and certainly not to the point of gang warfare."

    Soren surprises Jos�� with a rare laugh. "Hahaha! Jos��, you''re quite the dreamer, you know? The real conflict comes down not to one species versus another, but herbivores fighting carnivores. If you ignore the bloodlust of those who consume meat, such as the Kraktol and Kessu, you will also miss the bigger picture right in front of your face."

    Jos�� nods knowingly. "I see. It''s not that the species all fight at once, but that the herbivores and carnivores tend to fight each other collectively."

    "More than that," Soren corrects, "carnivores fight other carnivores, and they fight the herbivores. The herbivores actually stand together much more often in solidarity. They even possess most of the galactic power, with only the Dakkit standing as a pinnacle carnivorous species. Once, the Dakkit and Kessu stood at the apex of Mallali society, but the herbivores worked together to undermine both of their rule."

    Soren pauses for a moment, then frowns.

    "...Huh. Now that I think about it, perhaps the herbivorous factions were the ones most directly responsible for the Kessu''s disappearance. The Dakkit did become the galactic leaders once the Kessu fell, but the carnivorous factions lost far more political power than anyone else."

    Jos��''s expression becomes solemn.

    "I think you might be onto something. Just because a species doesn''t eat meat, that doesn''t mean they can''t act like vicious killers in the shadows."

    While Jos�� contemplates this new information, Sapphire pokes her snout between the driver and passenger seats. "Hey, Darling! Do we have time to drop by the shopping district? If not now, then maybe after you visit the Mallali leaders?"

    "We''re not here to sight-see," Jos�� replies.

    "Aww, but don''t you want to spend time with Soren and me? We can all go on a date, visit a holo-movie..."

    "We can always do that on the ship," Jos�� answers, glancing back at the blue-scaled Kraktol. "The Holodeck is more than capable of replicating any sight you can imagine."

    Despite his tone of rejection, Sapphire''s eyes light up. "Eeeh! So you''ll go on a holodeck date with me and Soren?! Maybe even just me? The two of us alone, together?! Finally, after five years, you''ve finally started warming up to me, Darling!"

    Jos�� gawks at the crocodile. "W-well, that isn''t exactly what I... never mind. We''ll talk about it when we return to the Bloodbearer."

    Sapphire nods repeatedly. "Okay! Alright! I''m super excited now!"

    Soren glances at Sapphire, noting the eagerness in her eyes. After Sapphire retracts her head and starts singing to herself in the back, Soren lowers her voice.

    "Jos��. Are you ever going to simply reject Sapphire? It''s not good to keep leading her on like this."

    Jos��''s jaw drops as he gazes at his First Officer in dismay. "Not good to lead her on?! I''ve told her a million times I''m not interested, but she... she won''t stop chasing me!"

    Soren shakes her head. "Tsk. Such a playboy, Admiral."

    "Dammit woman, I''m not!"

    ...

    Eventually, a dozen high-rise buildings appear in the distance. Soren slows the van''s speed and drops down to the ground, where she picks out a random parking spot.

    "This is as close as we can get, Admiral. Any further and we''ll enter the restricted airspace of the Mallali leadership. This vehicle might be durable enough to take a few hits, but we do not want to come under fire from their numerous anti-air batteries. They''ll chew this shuttle apart like Ruuki ripping into a Terran steak."

    Admiral Rodriguez chuckles. "A funny metaphor, but I get the picture. Alright, set us down and we''ll walk the rest of the way. As for the van, just leave the keys behind and the doors open. Someone else can take it if they want."

    He and the Kraktol all clamber out of the van, with Grundle having the hardest time thanks to his oversized body. The big Kraktol smacks his head on the doorframe at he clambers out, but his Survival Suit absorbs the impact.

    Sapphire glances around. "Stay sharp. The gangs near the city center are far better equipped, and significantly more ruthless than the gutter trash we saw before. Those six idiots weren''t anything special compared to the big boys living in these parts."

    Jos�� barely listens to her warning. "Right. If they come, we''ll deal with them. Let''s get a move on. I''d like to make it to the bigshot''s executive area by nightfall. The cover of darkness will aid me greatly in infiltrating their base of operations."

    Sapphire starts walking, leading the way deeper into the city, toward the towering skyscrapers a couple of miles away.

    "Darling, are you really going to enter all by yourself?" Sapphire asks. "That sounds awfully dangerous. You won''t have any backup if things go south."

    "I won''t need it," Jos�� reassures her. "Trust me. I''ve infiltrated a million bases in my time, some of them the most fortified and highly advanced bases in Terran space. Compared to them, these primitive defenses won''t protect the Mallali leaders for more than a few seconds."

    "If you say so," Sapphire mutters, clearly displeased by Jos��''s choice. "But we''ll stay nearby, ready to rush in if you need our help."

    "Hopefully it won''t come to that."

    Jos�� and his three officers head toward their destination, drawing ever closer to completing their ultimate goal:

    Saving the galaxy.

 Chapter 67: Terran Infiltrator

    Admiral Rodriguez and his three accompanying Kraktol officers make their way through New Pongi, pausing every so often to take note of the capital city''s varying degrees of economic disparity. Huge 20-foot fences separate the slums from more affluent areas, but the poor and the rich often live only a stone''s throw away from each other, regardless.

    The impact of seeing such stark wealth differences side by side aren''t lost on Jos��. However, having witnessed many similar situations in all his years alive, he doesn''t pay them much mind.

    "Alright. I''ll have to move alone from here," Jos�� says, once they reach a small park. Two blocks away, they can just barely make out a set of huge protective walls and force fields shielding New Pongi''s political powers; a sprawling set of buildings dotted throughout a 1000-acre plot of land. The central building, marked on Jos��''s internal notes as the Senate, stands only three stories tall, yet the building itself spreads out for half a mile in every direction. Luxurious gardens, fountains, and gold-plated amenities line its interior, speaking to the wealth of those who patronize it.

    "Jos��, I don''t like this," Soren says, her scales turning white from worry. "You shouldn''t go in there alone."

    "I only have one experimental stealth module," Jos�� says, while tapping the base of his skull. "And you three Kraktol are far too conspicuous. You''ll draw countless eyeballs my way. Just stay here and wait for my return or a rescue signal."

    "A rescue signal?!" Sapphire cries. "Darling! How are we supposed to fly in there and save you if something happens?!"

    "I''m sure you''ll think of something," Jos�� replies. "But realistically, if these Mallali have anything that can pin me down, you won''t be much help. I had to temporarily remove my dermal armor for a full-body stealth module, but I still have my basic survival suit. I''ll be fine."

    After a few minutes of explaining his plans, Jos�� points at a bench off to the side of the park. "Just sit over there and wait for me. I''ll return soon."

    His three Kraktol officers give up their pleading, realizing that as a Terran, his mind is impossible to change once he''s made a decision. Begrudgingly, they follow his orders and plop on the bench, sighing as they watch him leave.

    "I hope my Darling will be okay..." Sapphire mutters.

    ...

    Jos�� walks through the park, heading to the perimeter. He passes countless average citizens, some of them decently wealthy, others somewhat poor. However, none of the Mallali, Rodaks, or other Sentients in the park sit at the periphery of society, either on the top or the bottom. Most of them appear middle-class and decently well-off.

    Just before Jos�� leaves the park''s boundaries, his eyes fall on a pair of Dakkit pups, both of them chasing after each other and playing some variant of ''tag.''

    "Cute kids..." Jos�� mutters.

    He walks toward a large tree, one with oddly curled leaves that resemble pasta noodles. After Jos�� steps into the tree''s shadow, he activates his body''s stealth module.

    Made by Orion Corps, the 50th Era military-grade augment replaces Jos��''s Dermal Armor, causing the nanites in his blood to vibrate and shimmer in such a way that they allow 99% of light and other detection methods to pass through Jos��''s body. Within two seconds, Jos�� ''phases'' out of view, seemingly vanishing from the material world. With nobody''s eyes on him at the moment of his disappearance, none of the local Mallali realize that an invisible assassin has appeared in their midst.

    Admiral Rodriguez strolls confidently onto the street. He pauses for a moment to look around. A pair of Avaru resembling crows nearly bump into the invisible Terran, but he quickly scoots out of the way. Thanks to the built-in sound-dampening features of his stealth module, even his footsteps become inaudible to the sharp-eared Sentients around him.

    Not bad, Jos�� thinks. I knew the module would work, but I didn''t expect it to be this effective. Seems the top dogs of Terrankind always had access to the best equipment.

    That thought leaves him feeling momentarily melancholic, but Jos�� quickly shakes off the sensation.

    Doesn''t matter. Their toys are mine, now.

    The Terran walks across the street toward the walls erected around New Pongi''s Senate and other political administrative buildings. In addition to the twenty-foot walls, multiple high-intensity transparent force-fields hum an additional hundred feet into the air, making casual approaches by gangs and hooligans impossible.

    Hundreds of armored guards patrol the area around the walls, always in groups of six or more. These enforcers, typically Dakkit, sniff the air as they walk, while their helmets and visors scan the area for hidden intruders. They wield menacing-looking 42nd-Era weaponry, some of which Jos�� recognizes as brand-spanking-new.

    Hmm. If most Terran technology the Mallali possess is supposed to be salvaged and rebuilt, why does it look as if these guards have procured equipment right off a factory line? Perhaps Lorrie''s intel is far more out of date than we thought. It seems the Mallali have figured out how to build advanced Terran weaponry, at the least. I wonder what other advancements they''ve made, unseen by the rest for the galaxy?

    Jos�� frowns. His mind becomes more alert as he recognizes the Mallali police and security enforcers aren''t the total pushovers he expected. Even so, their technology doesn''t threaten him in the slightest. He stands a short distance from a six-man team of enforcers, waiting to see if they''ll spot him. Luckily, even when the guards look in Jos��''s direction, they don''t notice his presence, not even with their trained noses.

    Feeling more confident, Jos�� walks up to the wall. He coils strength into his legs, then leaps thirty feet into the air, allowing him to ascend high enough to see over the wall. The moment his vision allows him to see inside, he transmits a mental command to his internal teleporter.

    Foop!

    The Terran vanishes from his position and reappears inside the Senate''s perimeter, easily bypassing the barrier. He lands silently on his feet, pauses for a moment to scan the area, and finally stands up, confident nobody spotted him.

    Outer perimeter breached. Looks like the barrier is only 32nd-Era technology. It''s pretty outdated.

    Despite its age, the barrier still has more than enough power to fry a human at the subatomic level. However, it doesn''t possess the means to block his short-range teleporter.

    After arriving inside the capitol''s most sensitive compound, Jos�� teleports atop a single-story office building nearby to get a better view of the land. He picks out ten times as many guards inside, but this time he also spots countless wealthy-looking Mallali, Avaru, and other such ruling Sentients. Sadly, he spots few if any Rodaks, proving once again the Mallali don''t want to give their rivals more political clout than necessary.

    The vast piece of property, located in the heart of New Pongi, truly reveals its opulence after Jos�� penetrates its confines. He spots a pair of beautifully-dressed parrot-like Avaru women, each decked out in fancy golden and purple robes, as if they were both visiting empresses. The two birds chirps and squawk at one another while laughing about some unknown piece of local gossip.

    Uncertain where he can find his quarry, Jos�� travels deeper into the compound. He jumps from rooftop to rooftop, keeping away from the people milling about below him. Unsurprisingly, many Avaru security officers stand atop the buildings to keep an eye on the surrounding area, while also acting as makeshift snipers should an enemy incursion occur. Thanks to their innate flying abilities, they make for ideal rooftop personnel, as their eyesight often proves superior to the Dakkit and other Sentients.

    Jos�� easily bypasses these trained personnel. Not once do they notice the ghostly apparition flickering through their midst.

    After a full hour of searching the area, Jos�� reaches a building that appears different from the others. Unlike its neighbors, the structure stands three stories tall, with the upper levels growing progressively smaller, like a mini-pyramid made of three steps. Ten times as many security officers crawl around the perimeter, checking for bombs, saboteurs, and other such dangerous devices and people.

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    That must be the place, Jos�� thinks.

    He lightly hops off the rooftop and lands on the ground, taking care not to alert anyone in the vicinity to his presence. Even a 50th-Era stealth module''s sound dampening capabilities can only do so much to make a thirty-foot fall and landing inaudible.

    Jos�� approaches the central compound structure. He spots a sign at the front, one which reads, in big, bolded letters:

    GALACTIC ASSEMBLY HALL.

    That''s the one, Jos�� confirms. Having looked up the leaders over the intergalactic net, he''s already determined the rough area of where they might live and travel on a daily basis. However, compared to the public information found on the Mallali''s Galactic Net, he lacks concrete knowledge about the private details of each Mallali leader''s daily schedule.

    Admiral Rodriguez swivels his head from side to side. His ocular implants rapidly scan the appearances of all the visitors and police in the area, giving him details about their bodies and possible identities.

    Oh, that fellow over there. He''s a Cheemu, goes by the name Jarrod the Long-Tongue. And that Dakkit next to him, she seems to be Lady Dranee, a low-ranking noble from one of the Core Worlds. Still, she gets to prance about like royalty here in New Pongi, so she must feel like a queen for the moment.

    After scanning the identities of everyone around him, Jos��''s vision shifts again, creating countless blue lines in the air. He picks out and traces several outgoing transmissions from various wrist, ear, or pocket-worn devices. All of them, while heavily encrypted, cannot stand up to even a second''s scrutiny from the Admiral''s advanced hacking toolkit. He easily bypasses all their security measures and downloads the files straight to his neural interface.

    Tsk. These people... what scum. Lady Dranee appears so prim and proper to the public, yet she runs a damn slave-trading business within the black market. And her friend, Jerrod, he''s worried someone might uncover the blackmail involving his father''s weapon cartel. Seems he''s shipping goods to the Trellut on the down-low.

    The Admiral sighs. Politicians never change. They''re all dirty scumbags underneath their shiny exteriors.

    After casting aside those fruitless thoughts, Jos�� peers deeper into the stolen data-files. He finally finds what he''s looking for.

    Ah, here we go. It looks as if Lady Dranee has a business appointment later today with Maximillian, son of the Alfras. As the highest-ranking Dakkit in the Core, Maximillian''s father is quite the important man. If I can find his son, I can find him.

    Jos��''s primary goal, to speak to Benjiro and the other Mallali leaders, momentarily falters. As he glances through several dozen illicit folders tucked away by Lady Dranee and her cohorts, his expression turns to disgust.

    Benjiro isn''t going to be any better than these twisted failures. If anything, he''ll probably be worse. How am I supposed to convince a deluded, privileged, rotten old dog to pay attention to the Buzor? Maybe I should try speaking to Maximillian, first. Or maybe I should find a high-ranking military commander. I like those types more. They usually understand what''s at stake better than the damned bureaucrats living it up on their conquered Core worlds.

    For a moment, Jos�� falls into contemplation. He realizes that in the end, his efforts might bear no fruit and the dumb idiot politicians might just ignore him, no matter what evidence he provides.

    Doesn''t matter. I have to locate the Alfras. If I fail, I''ll at least have gained some valuable intelligence. Perhaps I can hack his command codes and take what I need by force. My only goal is to destroy Yama, after all.

    After coming to a decision, Jos�� heads inside. He teleports past multiple perimeter defenses, ignoring every security checkpoint that would fool more poorly-equipped saboteurs, and finally arrives inside the Galactic Assembly Hall.

    Compared to the inner compound, the GAH doesn''t sport hardly any security personnel. Those who linger inside keep their weapons hidden and stand at attention. Their existence is not intended to protect the people inside, but to provide their Mallali guests a sense of safety and reassurance. Considering the investment put into securing the inner and outer compound perimeters, the Mallali seem assured no assassin could possibly breach their defenses without setting off any alarms.

    Too bad for them, the Terran exists.

    Jos�� teleports to a nearby wall and adheres to it via gravitic implants built into his hands and feet. He once again rapidly collects the data of every guest within visual range, allowing him access to their most private information.

    One Dakkit male catches his attention.

    Hmm? That fellow is Ferund Carrus, a secretary to the Alfras himself! He seems to be greeting a pair of dignitaries from...

    Jos�� glances at the Ferund''s pair of guests. They turn out to be secretaries themselves, both of them working for two targets on Jos��''s list.

    That male Cheemu works for Leevoo the Observant, while the ratty-looking Dornet works for Virapa Thicktooth. It looks like there''s some sort of a big meeting happening today!

    Jos�� transmits a burst of energy to his auditory canal, then leans in a little closer, allowing his long-ranged hearing to pick up on the conversation between the three secretaries.

    "...by a most ignoble Dakkit fellow," Ferund says, his voice full of scorn. "I mean, the nerve. Does he not know whoms''t I serve? My master is the most powerful canine on all of New Pongi, yet Mister Rotticus expects me to strut around like his personal lap-pup."

    The Cheemu secretary shakes his head. His eyes rotate around independent of each other, giving him a somewhat disinterested vibe. "Mlerp. You can''t trust these low-level pond-feeders. They suck up to us, hoping to get in the good graces of our esteemed mlerp masters. You have to stomp on their tails to show them who is boss."

    The Dornet secretary, a female with well-maintained fur and two huge buck-teeth, sniffs the air suspiciously. "I''ve had five, count them, five Dakkit proposition me since my arrival yesterday. Can you believe it? They must believe that if they marry me they will somehow end up ruling the black market. It''s disgraceful!"

    "Anyway, forget those mlerp creeps," the Cheemu says. "We''ve still got an hour before our masters finish their business. Why don''t we grab some crawlies from the bar?"

    "Hmm. I suppose I could indulge myself in a round of chewing," Ferund says. "I''m looking forward to visiting that new nightclub tomorrow night. I hear the prey they''ve put on display will boil the blood of any predator."

    His words cause the two herbivorous secretaries a small amount of discomfort, but they quickly hide their feelings.

    "I''d like to visit, too," The Dornet says, chittering nervously. "But, um, I don''t dare go alone."

    "I have a VIP invitation," Ferund says. "You two can both come with me."

    "Mlerp. Most excellent! I can''t wait!"

    The three secretaries continue chatting, but Jos�� pulls away, completely uninterested in anything else they have to say.

    It seems Benjiro and the other Mallali are engaging in a significant meeting of some sort, for at least another hour. If I hurry to their location, perhaps I can intercept them!

    Jos�� begins a series of rapid teleportation jumps, flickering from one wall to the next. He zips down corridors, past hundreds of Mallali upper-classers, and into various chambers where many different backroom dealings take place.

    It takes the Admiral twenty full minutes to scout out the interior, but eventually he discovers the Alfras isn''t actually meeting with the other Mallali leaders inside the three-level Assembly Hall, but instead, a secret chamber underground where fewer transmissions and probing attempts can penetrate.

    Clever, Jos�� thinks.

    Hidden underneath the main hall, more than ten feet of exotic materials designed to hamper sensors and other readings protect the Mallali''s secret meeting area. Even Jos��, outfitted with 50th Era technology, can''t easily break into the meeting room to make his presence known.

    I can''t teleport inside. Too much signal disruption. And, once I''m in, getting out will be tricky. On the other hand, there are more than ten top-ranking delegates in there. This is the best opportunity I''ll get to make my case before the most influential Mallali.

    After debating over his options, Jos�� comes to a simple conclusion.

    He steps inside a bathroom, disables his invisibility, then activates an auxiliary function of his stealth module. Immediately, his figure changes as a holographic projection mirrors itself over his body, seemingly shrinking down his figure by a foot and a half. He assumes the appearance of Ferund, the Alfras''s secretary.

    His appearance becomes dog-like, making him look like a cross between a bipedal Rottweiler and a Dobermann. A fancy suit appears on his torso and legs, while a small, pointy tail pops out of his rump. The Admiral''s voice shifts, allowing him to mimic Ferund''s mannerisms and speech to a level even the real deal might find difficult to tell apart.

    Jos�� practices speaking in the mirror for a minute, then exits the bathroom and heads down the hall toward a hidden elevator leading to the secure underground passage. When he arrives, a pair of Dakkit guards stationed outside the elevator glance at him in surprise.

    "Ruff? Mister Ferund? We weren''t expecting your return for another forty minutes."

    "I know," Jos�� says, changing his personality to one of a superior being, someone who looks down on the common rabble. "I''ve just received distressing news from one of the Core Worlds, Rhalnova. I must present this information to Alfras Benjiro on the double. Grawr!"

    "Oh! I see," The guard says. He glances at his buddy, and both of them nod. "Alright, sir. Just step forward and let me scan you. Protocol."

    Jos�� rolls his eyes, acting as if the procedure is a waste of his time. "Get on with it."

    He stretches out his paws, allowing the officers to wave a pair of hand-scanners all over his body. However, as the scanners try to pierce the disguise-projections surrounding Jos��, he activates a silent command from his neural interface, one which sends false data to each of the devices sweeping across his figure.

    After twenty seconds, the guards step back and glance at their scanner readings.

    "All clear, sir."

    "Gruff! Took you long enough," Jos�� growls.

    The Admiral steps through the elevator and waits for it to close. He presses the descent button, which begins taking him five floors underground, to the secret area where the Mallali leaders have decided to congregate.

    Infiltration successful, Jos�� thinks. He doesn''t smile, knowing he''s only cleared the basic hurdles. His entire journey to meet the Mallali will come to nothing if he can''t convince them to listen to his words.

    The Admiral''s expression morphs into a look of annoyance.

    God, I hate politicians.

 Chapter 68: The Alfrass Greed

    A brilliantly decorated room, filled with priceless artifacts and treasures recovered from the Ancient Precursors, rests hidden underneath the Galactic Assembly Hall. High-tech projection emitters lay inside the walls, all of them capable of simulating objects with weight and presence. Two golden chandeliers provide light, though multiple backup lights sit embedded in the ceiling above, in case of a power outage.

    The Alfras, Sir Benjiro, third of his name, sits at the head of a thirty-foot-long rectangular table. Along its sides, eight other distinguished Mallali nobles slowly consume a range of delicacies, while at the opposite side of the table, the second most distinguished guest, Leevoo the Observant, sits. As the leader of the Core Worlds'' merchant factions, she possesses the most say when it comes to running the economy, and her words carry more weight on such matters compared to Benjiro.

    However, as the one who heads much of the Core''s military, Benjiro''s authority via force still makes him ''top dog.'' As a long-aged Beagle-looking Dakkit, his floppy jowls and saggy cheeks show how far he has fallen into decadence in recent years. The alert and wary eyes of his youth have long since faded, leaving him a jaded old hound with little to do beyond indulging in the luxuries of life.

    "...you a long time, Benjiro. You act far too cavalierly when it comes to matters such as these," Leevoo says. The Merchant Queen''s tongue flops around in her mouth as she speaks, making the severity of her words come off as somewhat comical. Nobody laughs. "Mlerp! These Kraktol are becoming a real nuisance! They''ve raided five of my cargo ships in the past month! Five! We have to put a stop to this!"

    Benjiro sighs, causing his fat stomach to shudder. "You... worry too much... Leevoo. The Kraktol are merely outer rim thugs. Pirates. Grawf! They are not our opponents. Rather, it is the Doats and the Groff we should worry about. Those slippery amphibians have restored a 20th Era battleship recently. We must... take care of them."

    "The Groff are a dying species," Leevoo counters. "Once, they used to hop all across the galaxy. Now, they stay rooted to their lily-pads. They had to sign a unification treaty with the Doats simply to afford such a powerful vessel, and in the end, they became mere serfs for the Doats! Besides, the Doats know well which lines to cross and which to tow. They will not threaten our interests now or in the future. They wish only to expand their influence to the Northern Rim."

    Leevoo calls up a projector in the middle of the table, one which displays a huge image of the Milky Way Galaxy. Countless splotches of color appear, showing the various factional territories of all the different Sentient species. Among them, a huge blue area just below the galaxy''s center indicates the Core Worlds owned by the Mallali, Avaru, and other sentients belonging to the Unified Alliance.

    This area, known as the Southern Core, also happens to stretch up to the Western and Eastern Core areas as well. Only the Northern Core, where the Doats reside, appears differently colored.

    Leevoo gestures toward a relatively tiny patch of galaxy directly underneath the Southern Core, one that presses right against the Allied Sentient''s borders.

    "Look here. These filthy swampers have continually pressed themselves against our borders for years! The Kraktol intend to slowly take bites out of our territory. Mlerp! We cannot allow them to succeed!"

    Another Sentient seated at the table, a Trellut known as Turbo Baryon, slowly blinks his eyes. "The Kraktol. Not a threat. Very weak. Sad. Taking them out is... easy."

    "For you, perhaps," Leevoo snaps, glaring daggers at the shell-wearing turtle. "Mlerp! I do not possess the authority to command military vessels as I please. That is why I called this meeting. You must remind the Kraktol of why we rule the Milky Way! While the Doats expand north, away from our territory, the Kraktol continue to deliberately poke and prod our borders. They''re testing us! You can''t keep letting them get away with such blatant acts of aggression!"

    Benjiro appears unconvinced. He slowly pulls out a roll of smokeleaf, lights it, and places it in his mouth. After deeply inhaling, the Alfras''s eyes become foggy. He coughs a few times, then taps the ashes onto the floor. A tiny cleaning droid zips over to pick them up before scooting away.

    "The Kraktol are not our match. They never will be. They were born slaves, and they can only exist in this galaxy as thieves and pirates. It is in our best interest to allow them to remain as they are."

    Leevoo blinks. "What? Explain."

    "You don''t know?" Benjiro asks, chortling to himself snidely. "Snuffing out the Kraktol would take my glorious military a week at most. It would be a simple matter. Our vessels are already the most advanced in the galaxy. However, don''t you think those slime-scales provide us with a valuable service? By occasionally attacking our trade convoys, they place pressure on our military and keep our pups sharp. If the worst threat we face are a bunch of pirate dregs, then I say we leave them alone. We''ve more important matters to attend."

    Another Sentient seated at the table, a Kwaa leader named Marlon Fischer, turns his beak up at Benjiro''s words. "Skree! Preposterous! You speak of the Precursor theory known as Battle Pressure. If those theories truly worked, then the Precursors would never have gone extinct! More likely, if we allow the Kraktol to expand, they might stumble across some unmapped world. What if they discover Precursor ruins containing high-level knowledge?"

    Benjiro waves his paw dismissively. "Let them. I have made my decision, Naval Commander. You will follow my orders."

    The Alfras lazily leans back in his chair. "As for the Doats, Leevoo''s observations do have some merit. Leave them be. So long as they do not encroach on our territory, they will never pose a threat to us. The Core possesses the highest abundance of exotics, and we control three-quarters of it. Grawf! That is enough for my liking."

    Leevoo shakes her head in annoyance. "The longer we allow those Kraktol to run amok, the longer my profits-"

    "Enough about your profits. Losing a few billion credits won''t affect your operations," Benjiro counters. "Let''s move on to the next item. I am well overdue for my nap."

    Several of the Sentients seated at the table glance at each other with knowing looks in their eyes. They have experienced Benjiro''s petty downplaying of serious matters on countless occasions, and he never changes his mind unless doing so will allow him to laze about even harder.

    Before the discussions can continue, from the rear of the room, a pair of lightly-armed Dakkit guards step inside.

    "Ruff! Great Alfras, your retainer has returned ahead of schedule. He says he brings important information."

    Benjiro blinks in surprise. "Eh? Little Fer-Fer came back? I told him to leave me alone until I finished."

    After a few seconds, Benjiro sighs. "Knowing Fer-Fer, this matter must be something troublesome. Fine. Grawf! Let him in..."

    "As you command," The guards say.

    They exit the room. A moment later, a Doberman wearing a slick suit casually strolls into the hall. He bows politely toward the Mallali leaders before silently walking over to his leader''s side.

    "Master Benjiro. While I was outside, one of my informants passed me a data chip with insider information on it. After carefully reviewing its contents, I decided that you and the other Revered Ones here should take a look at its contents immediately."

    The Alfras slowly nods. Having spoken to his secretary tens of thousands of times, every word Farund says confirms his observations on the Doberman''s past behavior.

    "Sigh. Alright. Get on with it."

    He waves his paw dismissively, giving his secretary carte blanche to manipulate the room''s projectors. A moment later, Ferund pulls the data chip out of his pocket. He presses his paw against its top, then sets it on the table. Immediately, its contents download into the table''s electronic surface, causing the projection of the Milky Way to fizzle out. In its place, a series of videos play, each one recorded in stunning three-dimensional high definition.

    They show a scene of absolute carnage. Countless Buzor flood inside a wide-open underground passage, surrounding a somewhat smaller but far better equipped military regiment consisting half of Kraktol, and half of Kessu. This strange combination immediately causes many of the noteworthy politicians in the room to sit up in their seats.

    They watch for half a minute as the unlikely allies fend off the horde of Buzor, pushing their way deep into the underground tunnels. While many Kessu and Kraktol fall, tens of times more Buzor perish as well, causing their numbers to slowly diminish.

    Leevoo, unable to restrain her curiosity, finally breaks the silence. "Who recorded this footage? Mlerp! What is the context surrounding these... these strange events?"

    "I believe I know who recorded this footage," Ferund says, his posture straight as a board. "But they aren''t too important. As for the context, this battle took place on Tarus II. It involved a fight between the Kessu and the Buzor, while the Kraktol chose to align themselves with their blood-enemies to fight off the Buzor."

    Still entranced by the fascinating visual of two ancient rivals fighting alongside one another, it takes a moment for many of the seated Sentients to shake themselves of their stupor.

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    "Tarus II?" Marlon Fischer repeats. "Skree! That is the Kessu''s containment world. Why would the Buzor and Kraktol show up there?"

    Benjiro shifts in his seat. He shoots an odd look at the Kwaa leader before clearing his throat. "Harrumph! I can offer a reason as to why the Buzor would be there, but this has to do with matters above the pay-grade of most here aside from Miss Leevoo and myself. Grawf! The more curious question should have to do with the Kraktol. Never in a million years would they fight alongside the Kessu. They must have had an... interesting reason."

    Ferund closes his eyes and nods his head. "Yes, Master Benjiro. According to my informant, the Kraktol learned an important secret involving the Kessu and Buzor. This caused the Kraktol to set aside their enmity with the Kessu in an attempt to free them from the Buzor''s clutches."

    Marlon Fischer blinks. His bird-eyes, more observant than most, flick from Ferund''s face to Benjiro''s. As the nominal head of the Core military, serving directly underneath Benjiro himself, he possesses top-secret clearance, yet knows nothing of the ''secret'' which Ferund must be alluding. Yet, for a brief instant, the Kwaa leader observes a flicker of emotion on the Alfras''s face, one which hints that he might.

    "Skree! What secret? What is this about?" Marlon asks.

    Benjiro hesitates. He glances at Ferund, uncertain what he should say. To his surprise, his secretary also stares back, carefully examining his face, as if to search for clues.

    "Cough, cough! Fer-Fer, regarding this secret... is it, perhaps..."

    "It does indeed involve that secret," Ferund replies, nodding slowly. "But... I would not bring this matter up to you if it only involved that. You know well the Kraktol would not align themselves with the Kessu over such a simple matter, either. Instead, there is something which perhaps even you do not know."

    The two of them tacitly hint to one another the existence of the ancient ''deal'' which Benjiro''s grandfather made many centuries earlier, one in which he sold out the Kessu to the Buzor and allowed them to fall into slavery. Now considered long-buried ancient history, only a few people remain who still possess knowledge of that deal.

    However, as Benjiro watches, his secretary pulls up a second recording, one which shows a huge, glowing blue portal located in an unknown facility.

    "This is called a ''Warp-Gate,''" Ferund explains. "According to my informant, the Buzor have been secretly obtaining control of these gates with ''help'' from the Kessu. They allow anyone to instantly travel across the galaxy, and even the universe, in the blink of an eye. We are not certain how many of them there are, but my informant estimates there may be anywhere from one to three hundred Warp-Gates strewn across the Milky Way."

    After Ferund finishes speaking, a dire silence falls over the table.

    "...Preposterous," Leevoo murmurs. "Warp-Gates which allow one to travel across star systems? Are we to believe one of these was... was located somewhere on Tarus II?"

    "That''s right," Ferund confirms. "The choice of settling the Kessu on Tarus II may not have been a random one."

    His words, somewhat cryptic, cause the other Sentients to become even more confused.

    What choice? Who ''decided to settle'' the Kessu? Didn''t they leave voluntarily from the Galactic Core? Didn''t they wipe their own memories in order to pursue a life free from the pursuit of power? Was their exit not a way to offer penance to the galactic community at large?

    While many of the Core leaders present occupy the highest echelons of power, few of them know the sordid history behind the departure of the Kessu thousands of years before. Of those who do, they remain tight-lipped, volunteering no information without Benjiro''s express approval.

    After a few tense seconds, the Alfras shakes his head, causing his fat, floppy jowls to flip around. "Grawf! What a troublesome matter. As always, you damn me with more work, Fer-Fer. This matter of ''Warp-Gates'' is not a small one. For the Buzor to store away such a precious commodity from us, their rulers, they have indeed schemed deeply."

    Benjiro strokes his chin. "Still. The Buzor are no threat to us. They are a primitive species, barely capable of traveling through space. Their Precursor technology does not even reach the starting line of the 1st-Era. They must be using these Warp-Gates to secretly settle unknown worlds. Marlon, I will leave this matter in your capable wings."

    The Kwaa leader nods, but a look of suspicion rests in his eyes. Before he can speak, Ferund interrupts.

    "My apologies, Master Benjiro, but I have not finished. Even if this matter merely involved the Kessu, Kraktol, and Buzor, it would hardly be worth interrupting your meeting. I know that you are slow to action, after all. The true reason I came is because of... a far more terrifying existence."

    Ferund''s use of the word ''existence'' somehow causes everyone''s skin to crawl. In their minds, they imagine a sinister presence, one beyond the comprehension of mere mortals. Marlon ruffles his feathers. He looks uneasily across the table at Turbo Baryon, who also appears somewhat disturbed.

    Benjiro nods slowly. "Go on."

    The Alfras''s secretary hesitates for a moment, as if steeling himself to reveal something unspeakable. Eventually, he firms up his courage and activates another recording, revealing several dark, hazy images, barely visible to the naked eye.

    A horde of shadow creatures hurl spears of darkness at the person recording. The ''cameraman'' holds up a strange, furless arm, while shouting in a language none of the Mallali present can understand. Many of the shadow-creatures explode into mist, but others take their place.

    Seeing these shapeless, faceless monsters, looks of alarm pass across the faces of everyone present.

    "These... what are these things?" Leevoo asks. The Cheemu Merchant Queen becomes momentarily tongue-tied as she tries to visualize their full appearances in her mind''s eye, yet fails.

    "They are known as ''Shades,''" Ferund says, his tone turning ominous. "They are not normal sentients like you or me. They are aberrants. Horrors from the Precursor Era, and potentially the cause of their annihilation. They are Demons, and they come from a realm known as ''Hell.'' These Shades fight under the banner of the last remaining Demon Emperor... Yama. He is a malevolent entity from beyond the grave. He exists only for the sake of his own desires. He seeks to eradicate all Sentient life... and he has allied himself with the Buzor."

    Leevoo becomes noticeably more anxious. "H-how dreadful! How awful! Those monsters... the Shades look like no other being I''ve ever laid eyes on!"

    "It gets worse." Ferund adds. "You are a female. Yama is notoriously... choosy. You see, his Shades are not only Demons, like himself. They are slaves, serfs taken from sentient life. He captures them and... experiments on them. He turns females into his toys. He controls them and does with them what he wishes. As for males, he merely exterminates them."

    While Leevoo''s face becomes even more unsettled, Benjiro instead settles into his chair. He breathes a sigh of relief.

    "Oh. Is that all?"

    Ferund turns to his master and blinks. "Pardon?"

    The Alfras chuckles. "You really had me worried. Shapeless monsters from the Precursor Era. Frightening to look at, but not entirely unknowable. Grawf! This Yama is not some mindless monster hellbent on destruction. Fer-Fer, I expected better from you."

    Hearing the Alfras''s words, Ferund becomes noticeably more confused. "I do not understand, Master Benjiro. Did you not hear what I said? My informant has given us recordings of Yama. We can see his might for ourselves. He wishes to consume the galaxy!"

    Benjiro shakes his head. He glances at Ferund like a father disappointed in his son. "Tsk. Since when did you become so short-sighted, Ferund? Grawf! This ''Yama'' creature is just as beholden to his bodily instincts as the rest of us. You said so yourself. He lusts for women. He lusts for power. He allied himself with the Buzor, showing that he is open to communication. I don''t know who your ''informant'' is, but they sound paranoid and addle-brained to me."

    The Alfras continues. "This Yama sounds like he could make for a potentially useful partner. Look at his abilities. See how he blends into the darkness? He would make for a fine supplier of saboteurs! We could use him to quietly take out the power structures of our enemies. His talents are clearly wasted on the likes of the Buzor! We should attempt to locate him at once so that we can establish contact!"

    Ferund''s eyes widen. "With all due respect, Master Benjiro, that is a terrible idea! He possesses an ancient power known as ''magic.'' He can manipulate the shadows, steal into your room at night, and kill you while you sleep. As a Demon Emperor, his power is far beyond your imagination!"

    However, Benjiro appears unconvinced. "Is that so? Grawf! If Yama was capable of doing such a thing, why would he not have done so already? If he truly was a being capable of killing the mighty Precursors, then we would all have perished long before now! No, instead, you need only look at his actions up to now to understand his true power. He is weak, fragile, and dying of ''thirst''. He wishes to fulfill his vices, but to do so, he needs the assistance of mightier beings."

    The more Benjiro talks, the less alarmed the other Sentients appear. Soon, even Leevoo falls into his train of thought. She nods contemplatively before adding her own thoughts.

    "I have plenty of beautiful females at my disposal. If we can befriend this Yama, we will obtain a powerful ally."

    One of the other Sentients at the table, a previously silent Dornet named Virapa Thicktooth, leader of the black markets, nods. "I am able to procure many suitable slaves, if the Alfras desires."

    Other Sentients chime in with their own affirmations. They come around to Benjiro''s way of thinking, realizing the many potential benefits of befriending this so-called ''Demon Emperor.''

    Ferund''s movements become slightly flustered. "Master Benjiro, with all due respect, I think you are taking Yama''s threat far too casually! Look at the abilities he''s demonstrated in this recording alone! He can not only move while undetected and convert women into his personal Shade-bodyguards, but he can fling shadow spears, devour darkness to heal himself... his only weakness is light! If we move quickly, we can eliminate him before he amasses too much power!"

    Contrary to Ferund''s hopes, the Alfras''s eyes glint with interest. "Fascinating! So he has a weakness to light! As a creature of shadow, that only makes sense. It will be much easier to keep him under our thumb if we seize this crucial advantage."

    "But, Master Benjiro!" Ferund protests. He starts to say something else, only for Benjiro to cut him off.

    "I have made my decision! Grawf!" Benjiro declares. "Marlon, I expect you to ready our naval fleets. Seek out Yama using our best stealth vessels. Once you find him, express our goodwill and interest in negotiating for benefits. A chance like this won''t come up again if you let the Buzor snatch him away!"

    "Please, sir, I beg of you to listen to reason!" Ferund cries, clearly distressed.

    Instead, his words only cause Benjiro to glower at him. "Quiet! Know your place! Fer-Fer, in all the years I''ve known you, you''ve never been one to speak back to me. And since when were you such an idiot that you couldn''t see the clear benefits in allying with a powerful shadow-minion? Come to think of it..."

    Benjiro pauses for a split second. The old dog''s eyes flick across the off-putting appearance of his secretary, usually never one to appear flustered in front of other dignitaries. Suddenly, Benjiro reaches with his left paw to press a button on his right wrist. After two seconds, his eyes widen when nothing happens. He jumps out of his chair and takes a step back, alarming the other Sentients.

    "Why didn''t the Neural Inhibitor work? Y-you! You aren''t Fer-Fer! You''re a fake! Guards! GUARDS!"

    Immediately, four guards burst into the room. They take one look at Benjiro and another at the person he''s facing.

    "This isn''t my secretary!" Benjiro shouts. "He''s an imposter!"

    The guards instantly spread around the table. Two travel along the right to rush to Benjiro''s side, while two more run toward ''Ferund.''

    The secretary curses under his breath.

    "Fucking idiot Mallali leaders. They''re even dumber than I expected."

    Before the eyes of every Sentient present, a holographic screen enveloping Ferund fizzles out and disappears, revealing the figure of a much taller, much scarier looking creature. A furless biped, one with only a bit of hair atop its scalp, stares at the Alfras with enraged eyes.

    As the guards momentarily jerk back in fright, they aim their guns at the unknown infiltrator, momentarily feeling frightened by his unexpected, somewhat alien appearance.

    "So it''s come to this..." Admiral Jos�� Rodriguez says.

    Diplomacy and subterfuge fails him, despite his hopes. Now, he has only one recourse left to obtain what he wants.

    Brute force and coercion.

 Chapter 69: Invasion!

    For a split-second, time seems to hang as the blood of every Mallali leader turns to ice. Before them stands a tall alien lacking any fur on its limbs. The creature''s masculine appearance and strangely shaped head, with a sunken-in snout, a mostly-flat face, and only a bit of fur atop its head, gives all of the Core''s mightiest figures the fright of a lifetime.

    Two of the four guards rushing to protect the Mallali leaders, the two who are closest to the freakish alien, pull the triggers on their sidearms. Energized proton beams fire from their blasters and strike the alien, yet cause the creature no visible damage. Even more alarmingly, the beams reflect off a shimmering blue force-field wrapping around the creature''s body and ricochet to the ceiling and wall. Another two shots bounce off again and nearly strike Turbo Baryon, making the Trellut leader flinch fearfully as death misses him by mere inches. He yanks his limbs inside his shell, praying he''ll survive this encounter.

    The alien, somehow speaking in perfect Dakkit, raises his front paw.

    "Stop. You won''t be able to hurt me with those pathetic weapons. More likely, you''ll kill one of your idiot bosses, instead."

    The guards pause for a moment, unsure of what to do. With their sidearms having no apparent effect on the creature, they silently curse themselves for not carrying higher-caliber weaponry as part of standard policy. Instead, they holster their weapons and rush forward, intending to tackle the alien.

    As the two closest guards try to take the creature down, the other two jump in front of the Alfras, Sir Benjiro, who flattens himself against the wall while breathing heavily. "Sir! We have to get you out of here!"

    However, Sir Benjiro merely gazes with widened eyes at the strange creature, his expression containing a mixture of horror and recognition. Before he can say anything, the other two guards reach the alien. They dive at him and attempt to tackle him, only for the creature to move with lightning speed. He spins around on his heel and sweeps his leg in a wide arc, kicking both of them across their faces! With a single move, the alien delivers bone-cracking force to both guards'' snouts, sending them crashing against the wall. They both slap against the underground bunker''s hardened surface and faint, unable to endure such a powerful retaliatory strike.

    A moment later, all falls silent. The two remaining guards attempt to grab the Alfras and drag him out of the room, but he digs his feet in and presses himself against the wall, as if trying to sink into its embrace.

    "Y-you! It''s you!" The Alfras cries, his voice shaking with fright. "It can''t be! You''re... you''re a Precursor! A living P-Precursor!"

    At the mention of that word, every Mallali leader in the room, previously frozen in surprise, leap from their seats. They bolt straight upward, looking at the alien with even more fear than that which they displayed toward the Demon Emperor, Yama, just a minute earlier. Unlike the strange shadow monster which they hadn''t heard of until his introduction via hologram, every Sentient in the galaxy shares the same deep-seated fear and reverence of those who formed the galaxy''s technological power structure some tens of millions of years before.

    "Impossible!" Leevoo exclaims, her pointy Cheemu eyes practically bulging from her heads. "They''ve all gone extinct! How could one show up here?! Where are the other guards?! GUARDS!!"

    The Precursor, now positively identified, straightens his posture. He turns to look at the Alfras for a moment with an expression of interest before redirecting his attention to the Cheemu merchant queen.

    "The other guards won''t come. I''ve hacked into the security of this bunker. For the moment, nobody has any idea what''s happened down here. As for you lot, I didn''t come with harmful intentions, though that will change if you attempt to assault me again."

    The Precursor folds his arms behind his back. He assumes a dignified posture while shooting a pointed gaze towards the Alfras.

    "Since you recognize me, that will make my job a lot easier. My name is Jos�� Rodriguez. I am indeed a Precursor, but my species call themselves Humans, or Terrans. You may use whichever word you prefer. It makes no difference to me."

    His deep, growly voice commands attention. Yet, somehow, despite his perfect pronunciation of the Dakkit language, the Terran''s mouth doesn''t sync up to the words at all. Instead, an unknown translation device speaks the words from somewhere on his body, replacing his vocabulary post-speech.

    Upon hearing the Terran''s explanation, Sir Alfras shakily nods his head. "I... I knew it... my father didn''t lie to me... he showed me the secret data files. He revealed th-the true appearance of your people."

    After pausing to catch his breath, the Alfras forcibly stops his overweight body from trembling.

    "How did you get in here? No, more importantly, why have you come? Are you here to assassinate us?! What is your purpose, Precursor?! Are there any more of you? Have your people somehow survived the passage of time?"

    As the Alfras fires off questions, the Precursor simply stares at him as if gazing at a baby. He glances at the now-standing Mallali leaders, shrugs, and pulls out a chair. The Precursor takes a seat and calmly leans back before gesturing at the Alfras''s chair.

    "Sit. If I wanted to kill everyone here, you''d already be dead. Your security is slipshod, underprepared, and frankly, a complete embarrassment."

    The alien''s snide tone catches most of the Mallali off-guard. As the de-facto rulers of the Milky Way, they enjoy a technological supremacy that no other Sentients may ever attain in their lifetimes. The average Era-rating of their ships, weapons, and industry far surpasses those of any other species, yet when faced with a genuine Precursor, they can only blush with shame.

    Slowly, some of the tension in the air seeps away. Benjiro hesitantly pushes his guards aside and walks back to his chair. With the Precursor sitting within an arms'' reach, he feels deeply uncomfortable, yet still forces himself to act authoritatively, not wanting to diminish his political prestige among the others.

    "D-did you not hear the Precursor?" Sir Benjiro barks, aiming a glare at the other Mallali leaders. "Sit!"

    A few of the weaker willed leaders shift uncomfortably, preferring instead to bolt for the door and flee for their lives. Yet, in their hearts, they know that if they were to do so, the Precursor could likely kill them with a snap of his fingers. So invincible are the ancient deities who once ruled the Milky Way that all those present feel like pedantic children compared to him. Begrudgingly, they all take their seats as well, though several of them shift chairs to sit much further away from the head of the table, where possible, with Leevoo retaining her seat at the furthest edge of the room, closest to the exit door.

    Once a sense of tense calmness returns, the Precursor folds his spindly paws together on the table and assumes a domineering air.

    "All of you are ten times more imbecilic than I ever expected. I came here today hoping to convince you with simple logic that slaying Yama was in your best interests. Instead, you looked only toward your bottom line. Only the stupidest of Terrans would side with a Demon Emperor, but even those fools wouldn''t throw aside their morals with such exuberance."

    The Terran shakes his head. He stares at the Alfras disapprovingly, paying no attention to the two guards still frozen in fear, uncertain of what to do. They stand helplessly behind the Alfras, still wanting to pull him to safety, yet unable to force their leader to do anything if he doesn''t wish it. One of them discreetly tries to communicate with the other guards outside, but receives static in response.

    Sir Benjiro rests his paws in his lap while eyeing the Precursor warily.

    "Is that your reason for coming? Grawf! You... wish to turn my people against this... Yama? Is that truly your purpose?"

    Jos�� Rodriguez nods. "Yes. And as for you, how did you recognize my appearance? From what I''ve gathered, nobody in the galaxy has ever seen a Human in the flesh, nor do they know of my people''s history, our proper species'' name, or countless other details."

    The Alfras maintains eye contact with Jos��. "...In the first age, when my people joined the other star settlers... we were among the first to find ancient Precursor ships. Their synthminds frightened us, but we managed to decipher some of their secrets before tearing them apart. After decommissioning all of the synthminds and rebooting them from fresh installations, we locked away any knowledge we retained, allowing only our leaders to know of those secrets. Among them were a few... composite images. We gleaned a few details regarding the ancient Precursors and passed that knowledge down to each generation''s Alfras."

    Jos�� snorts. "Only the Dakkit knew? Not the Kessu? Surely, the Kessu would have been the ones to uncover the information regarding my people. Unless..."

    The Admiral pauses for a moment. He narrows his eyes as he recalls the backroom dealings which led to the Kessu''s disappearance from the galactic scene.

    Sensing the Precursor''s thoughts, Benjiro averts his eyes. "Hmph. The Kessu. I had not thought of their existence in years until seeing those recordings you provided. Grawf! It must have been you who united the Kessu and Kraktol together against the Buzor. Only a Precursor could pull off something previously thought impossible."

    "Perhaps I did," Jos�� says, offering a faint smile. "But we''re not here to talk about me. I have a mission, and you have what I need to fulfill it. One way or another, I''m not leaving until you decide to assist me in killing the Demon Emperor, Yama. You will not betray your people by uniting with him. You will not make any backroom dealings with him. You will not hold even the slightest shred of empathy for him, or I will personally rain fire and fury over everything that you hold dear."

    Admiral Rodriguez leans forward. "Have I made my position clear?"

    The Alfras swallows heavily. So do all of the other Mallali leads. "Y-yes."

    After a momentary pause, he hesitantly continues. "But... pardon my ignorance. Why do you need my help? You are a Precursor. You are clearly more powerful than anyone in this room. You bypassed our defenses and infiltrated our most heavily guarded facility with apparent ease. I do not understand why you would go to such lengths, nor why you hold such animosity for the Demon Emperor. Can''t you... explain your intentions?"

    The Admiral contemplates Benjiro''s question. After sweeping his eyes around the table, he spots similar confusion in the eyes of all those present.

    "Mmm. Yes, I can answer your questions. Your ignorance is understandable, as you are not aware of my identity. Let''s start with the basics. As far as I know, I am the last living Terran in the galaxy. I recently awoke from stasis-sleep to find that my entire species had gone extinct. Were that simply the case, you would not be seeing me today. However, through a series of encounters, I happened upon the existence of a living Demon Emperor, and this has awakened my inner warrior blood. Even among other Terrans, I am a supreme existence. I was once a member of a faction known as Ramma''s Chosen, and our people stood at the pinnacle of Precursor society."

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Minutes pass.

    The Terran regales those present with sweeping tales of his past. He slowly lightens the oppressive atmosphere by honestly and directly answering any questions regarding his people''s history. For the first time in their lives, all the Mallali leaders begin to learn the truth of the ancient Precursors. They discover that not only were the Terrans far mightier than the Sentients living in the modern galaxy, but their knowledge and military might stood tens of epochs higher, as well. Any questions the somewhat more scientifically literate Mallali ask, Jos�� answers with such a level of profoundness that they can scarcely understand his words.

    A deep sense of shame and insecurity falls upon the ''smarter'' Mallali present. They lower their heads and sink into their chairs, feeling like toddlers trying to show off before a genius-level scientist. In truth, Jos��''s knowledge comes mainly from technical blueprints stored in his cranial implants, though these basic texts still prove brilliant in the eyes of Sentients who can scarcely build and repair ancient Terran starships.

    After Jos�� finishes his explanation, the Alfras slowly nods. "I see. So you are the last living Precursor. You are... alone."

    Immediately, the Admiral''s eyes turn venomous. He detects a hint of malice in Benjiro''s words, making him laser his gaze to bore onto the Alfras''s skull.

    "Don''t get any funny ideas. I may be the last Terran, but I am far from alone. I possess a ship with fifty thousand elite warriors, taken from the best of the Kraktol and Kessu. Trained in my Terran ways, they could fall upon your cities and worlds without me lifting a finger. We could rain annihilation upon Enchillon and any other so-called ''capital world'' without losing our breath. Your worlds are fragile. Weak. Pathetic. In my day, every planet worth its credits possessed a shield generator capable of protecting its civilians, yet the heart of your empire lays defenseless before me, just waiting for me to express my anger."

    Jos�� pauses for half a beat, allowing his threat to worm its way into the ears of all present. Then, he lowers the intensity of his gaze, allowing them to sigh in relief. "Be glad that I have come in peace seeking your assistance. In truth, I need not have sought your help. Were it not for my insistence on expediency, I could have hunted Yama down myself. However, there are many worlds of which the Buzor may have seized control, and I would rather not waste my time searching all of them. By putting your, no doubt, extensive surveillance methods to good use, I can rapidly locate and exterminate Yama. As for what will happen following the success of my mission..."

    The Admiral leans back in his chair. He casually waves his hand before himself, as if to indicate a trivial matter. "I suppose I could repay you for your assistance. A bit of knowledge from a living Precursor would be more than enough to offset any ''losses'' you might make because of Yama''s death. If I were to give you knowledge on ship-building, you could finally replace those dreadful cruisers of yours. For the galaxy to have sunk to the level of 25th-Era technology when my people once uniformly held the galaxy at the 50th-Era, that is a steep decline I simply cannot forgive."

    Once the Admiral starts talking about benefits and transactions, Leevoo''s eyes light up. In the back of her mind, the smell of profits come wafting in, sandblasting away any previous fears she might have held toward Jos��. In the same way she disregarded her fear of Yama, she quickly recognizes a similar opportunity from the Terran.

    "You possess ancient, long-lost knowledge, yes? Might we be able to transact with you on a more permanent basis? This Yama creature could make for a decent ally, but I think I speak for all of us when I say you are clearly a much more attractive trading partner! Mlerp! I have ships, weapons, slaves, anything you wish to trade, I can- ulp!"

    She pauses mid-speech as Jos��''s eyes meet her own. For a brief instant, the sensation of death falls upon Leevoo''s soul, leaving her petrified.

    "Slaves." Jos�� hisses. "Speak not of that word around me. Were we still living in Terran times, I would have exterminated the lot of you for upholding such a barbaric, inhumane, unconscionable practice. I have accepted some of the less enlightened foibles of this ''modern'' galaxy, but if you dare speak of slaves in front of me again, don''t act surprised when your head FALLS from its shoulders."

    The Human inhales deeply. He swallows the rage burning in his heart before adopting a more neutral expression.

    "I do not intend to become long-term trading partners with any of you. For this one occasion, I will offer my services. You help me kill Yama, and I will give you knowledge that will make you undefeatable among your contemporaries. I care not what happens to this galaxy after you acquire the power you so desperately seek. Once I slay the last Demon Emperor, I will leave. You will never see me again. Besides, you don''t have anything I want."

    Sensing a hesitance among the Mallali after his show of rage, Jos�� pauses to summon a projection at the center of the table. Before their eyes, he conjures a set of secret files from their internal network, ones which give him administrator access to the blueprints of the battlestations orbiting Enchillon''s primary world and its moon.

    "This pathetic excuse for a planetary defensive station disgusts me," Jos�� says. "Look at the shoddy construction, the cut corners, and the awful internals. With just a few minor tweaks, I can advance this station from the 20th-Era to the 30th."

    Before their eyes, Jos�� begins to rapidly reconfigure the planetary station. Partly stunned by his easy access to their top-secret files, and even more shocked by the speed of his revisions, the Mallali completely fail to follow the Admiral''s reconstruction of the battlestation. Within just five short minutes, Jos�� converts the ugly-looking defensive platform into a spic-and-span, fully featured 30th-Era long-range assault platform capable of both offense and defense. It even incorporates a lightspeed drive, allowing it to traverse around the planetary system to repel invaders from any direction, unlike the current one, which lingers helplessly in orbit, praying for invaders to cross its path.

    "A... amazing..." Leevoo whispers. Her fear and awe toward Jos�� ascend to new heights, providing a confusing dichotomy of emotions as she struggles to make sense of her thoughts toward him. "So fast! Mlerp! How can you manipulate the projections with such speed? Are you augmented?"

    Jos�� smiles. "I am. Heavily. Ramma''s Chosen possess only the best in Terran augmentation. The weapons I can bring to bear on my person are more than you can possibly imagine."

    Benjiro, having remained silent for the past several minutes, nods wearily. "I see. It does indeed seem that you are qualified to hunt down and exterminate this... this Yama. Still, even with your past history, I do not understand why you seek to slay this ancient Demon Emperor. Grawf! With all of your people dead, you have no reason to worry over the fate of the galaxy. We are not your kin. If Yama eliminates us all, as you claim he will, our fate will not matter to you."

    The Admiral purses his lips. "Perhaps. However, I have principles upon which I must abide. Ramma''s Chosen have always been the most righteous among all of Terrankind. We must eliminate heresy at all costs, even if it means sacrificing our own lives. Yama is an evil existence. If my people have gone extinct, I simply cannot sit idly while he seeks to increase his power. If Terrankind must go extinct, then so, too, must the Demons. I will never allow a galaxy to exist where humanity has vanished while the demons have taken over."

    Marlon Fischer, leader of the Core''s military forces, cocks his head. "Mighty Precursor, skree! I must ask, because I am curious. Why does it seem as if your intentions are... too noble? Not only do you seek to eliminate a potential calamity for us in the form of this Demon Emperor, but you will pay us for the privilege of doing so, and you will even risk your life in the process. While you assume all of the risk, we will reap all of the rewards. No sane Mallali, Avaru, or Rodak would ever fall for such a clear trap! Surely, you must wish to extract value from us in some way!"

    "Haha."

    Jos�� laughs, but his tone comes off as dry and condescending.

    "Is that what you think? That I''m doing this to try and worm my way into your hearts? I honestly could not care in the slightest about you or your people. I need access to your full scouting abilities. I need access to your ships, spies, and reconnaissance capabilities. I am willing to pay for their usage, since I don''t like to inconvenience people. In truth, my payment is a trifle compared to the knowledge locked in my head and aboard my ship''s databanks. The knowledge I am offering is enough to stop you from embarrassing yourselves with the awful technology I''ve seen so far. It''s not enough to throw you to the top of the 50th Era. Frankly, you''ve a long way to go before you deserve that privilege. You can work your way up to that level while also discarding your... less savory societal aspects, over time."

    As the Admiral outlines his needs, he pauses for a moment. "Oh. It seems one of your military admirals has transmitted a Priority One classified-call to this location. My firewalls have blocked it, but I''m interested to see what she has to say. Sir Benjiro, please take the call, but don''t try anything funny."

    The Alfras nods dumbly. "Err, yes. Of course."

    Jos�� drops the restrictions, allowing a holographic image to appear at the center of the table. A female Dakkit named Admiral Ameleya appears, her Great Dane-like appearance giving her a stern but tempered edge. Amelaya doesn''t notice Jos��, due to the Terran hiding his appearance from the room''s transmitters. All she sees are the other Mallali, Avaru, and the lone Trellut at the table.

    "Great Alfras! I regret to interrupt your meeting, but I bring urgent news. I have just received multiple simultaneous Alpha Incursion distress signals from fifteen Core Worlds. The Mallali have come under attack!"

    "What?!" Benjiro yelps. "Who dares?! Is it the Doats? The Kraktol?!"

    The Admiral shakes her head. "No, Great Alfras. Rather, it is the... Buzor."

    Her expression becomes one of confusion, as if she can hardly believe the words she is saying.

    "They appeared from thin air, Great Alfras. Multiple incursions, all at once. We did not detect any hyperspace transmissions. Instead, the Buzor Carapaces penetrated our airspaces out of nowhere. The vast Carrier Beetles used to transport their armies shouldn''t be capable of crossing star-systems at any reasonable speed, yet somehow huge masses of different Buzor species have appeared all at once! Not only is their attack both bizarre and unexpected, but it''s simply too sudden! Many of our elite military ships are out patrolling more distant star systems. We will require several days to recall them, but by then, we may have lost all of the contested worlds!"

    Jos�� frowns. He turns to the Alfras. "Tell her to list all of the worlds under attack. We will discuss what to do after I see their targets."

    The Alfras, realizing his Admiral can''t see or hear the Terran, slowly nods. "Admiral Ameleya, grawf! Send me a list of all the worlds under attack. I will contact you not long from now with specific orders."

    "Acknowledged," Ameleya replies. "I will begin recalling our forces, in the meantime."

    Her image disappears. In its place, a map of the Milky Way appears, but zoomed in on the Southern Core and its relevant star systems. More than a dozen worlds become highlighted, allowing Jos�� and the others present to examine them.

    The Terran furrows his brow. A look of resentment appears in his eyes.

    "This is not a coincidence. For the Buzor to attack out of the blue, Yama must be pressing them into action. Do not underestimate the Buzor, Benjiro. They forced the Kessu into slavery. They manufactured high quantities of military-grade weaponry. Most likely, they used the Warp-Gates I mentioned to arrive inside these specific star systems. As for their space-traveling carapaces... I cannot say. Perhaps they have used a form of FTL-travel you know nothing about."

    Benjiro hesitates. He looks as if he wants to retort, but saying anything about the Kessu might reveal information he''d prefer to keep secret. Airing out his dirty laundry will only bring criticism upon himself.

    "...I see. These worlds are not random. Each one is the location of a Sentient species'' capitol. Enchillon has not come under attack, but Daxarus has! It is the homeworld of my people, the Dakkit. Rhalnova, Xoth, even Veter!"

    As the Alfras points out various worlds, Jos��''s eyes brighten with alarm. "What did you say? Veter?"

    "Aye. It is the homeworld of the Varot," Benjiro says, pulling up an image of cute-looking ferret-like sentients. "The Varot are a peaceful Mallali subspecies who play a decent role in the creation of industrial-grade ship fuel. Their species-"

    "I don''t care about the damned Varot!" Jos�� rudely interrupts. "This world, it''s not ''Veter!'' It''s supposed to be called Ramaldius! It is the former headquarters of my faction, Ramma''s Chosen! For the Buzor to attack it as well... this can''t be a coincidence. This has Yama''s handiwork all over it."

    The Terran falls silent. Suddenly, a look of worry enters his eyes.

    He abruptly stands up, startling the Mallali present.

    "Our deal is off," Jos�� declares. "If I am right, I may have just found Yama on my own. If, however, I don''t, then I shall return in the near future to seek out your help. It''s better this way. Now I don''t have to feel guilty about handing out free upgrades to slavers and heretic sympathizers. Hopefully, my intuition is right."

    Leevoo''s heart-rate skyrockets. "Wait, great Precursor! What of your technology? Your assets! We can still make a deal!"

    "I don''t think so," Jos�� declares. "Not now, anyway. If I''m wrong, you''ll get another chance. Anyway, I have to go. You don''t need to send any troops to Veter. Whether Yama is there or not, consider it under my protection."

    Before any of the other Mallali can voice any objections, the Terran strides toward the room''s exit. He leaves, causing the room to fall silent.

    Benjiro, momentarily struck dumb by the human''s actions, presses his paws together.

    "He... he left? Just like that?! The damned Terran wreaked havoc and left! GRAWF! We didn''t get anything out of him, and now he''s off to kill Yama!"

    Leevoo, too, looks embittered. "His technology... now we''ll never get it for ourselves. Damn! What a tragic loss! That mlerping Terran is one selfish, greedy bastard!"

    The Alfras chuffs several times in annoyance before shaking his head. "Grawf! Grawf! GRAWF! Never mind! We''ll worry about him later! For now, we must focus on protecting our worlds! Start by drafting a plan to recapture any worlds once the Buzor have taken them over. I want all options on the table!"

    The other leaders nod brusquely. Some of them appear grateful the Terran has finally left, while others appear regretful at their losses. However, with this sudden invasion by the Buzor on their doorsteps, they have their work cut out for them if they wish to save their worlds.

    "Yes, Alfras!" The table chimes in unison.

 Chapter 70: Departing Mallali Space

    Admiral Rodriguez quietly leaves the Mallali compound. When the underground elevator conference room opens, the guards outside check to see who''s exited, only to find nobody inside. While gigantic question marks appear above their heads, the completely invisible Terran swishes past them as if they were idiot lemmings unable to see a cliff''s edge looming before their eyes.

    Despite the fact that Jos�� no longer needs to hide his existence, he still does so for a few practical reasons. Allowing nobody but the Mallali leaders to know of his existence keeps himself low-profile, as he is clearly a humble man who does not like to cause a ruckus. Additionally, slipping away without any fuss allows him to ignore all the troublesome security procedures which he finds irritating.

    Within twenty minutes, the Admiral swiftly arrives at the edge of the compound. He teleports through the force field and jogs back to his awaiting crew at a brisk pace. When he arrives, he drops his camouflage and approaches the three Kraktol officers, all of whom appear deeply uncomfortable due to the awkward stares countless Mallali have given them while they sat unmoving in the park.

    "Jos��!" Soren says, relief on her face. "You made it back! Oh, thank the ancestors. Are you alright?"

    "I''m fine, but we need to return to the Bloodbearer at once," Jos�� says. "I got what I wanted, albeit in an unexpected manner. Ended up not needing to bargain with the Mallali leaders. Right now, the Buzor have launched an attack on several Core worlds. We must travel to Ramaldius- sorry, Veter."

    "Veter?" Sapphire echoes. "Why go there? That''s the Varot homeworld. It''s just some industrial production planet. Nothing exciting, darling."

    "I''ll tell you on the way. Let''s call the Slipstream over and make a quick getaway. Don''t worry about the Mallali forces. They won''t touch us, not now that I''ve put the fear of god in their leaders."

    Grundle scratches his head. "Graugh... but... you said you didn''t have to bargain to get what you wanted."

    "It''s a bit of a story," Jos�� says. "Come on. Let''s find a wide-open rooftop where the Slipstream can land."

    ...

    Thirty minutes later, the Admiral and his followers board the bullet-shaped shuttle and exit the planet''s atmosphere. Thanks to the Slipstream''s advanced stealth features, not a single scanner notices their departure.

    After explaining what happened, the Admiral exhales. "And that''s the end of it. Now, we have to rush to Veter. I''m worried about what Yama might do. He knows I''m one of Ramma''s Chosen. The fact Ramaldius ended up on the Buzor''s hit list can''t be a coincidence. More than likely, Yama intends to destroy the one thing I need to pursue my goals."

    Soren''s eyes flash with insight. "The Rip-Gate? How would he know about that? Maybe this is just a coincidence, Admiral."

    "Yes, maybe," Jos�� admits. "But Yama is just as ancient as me. Worse, while I was comatose for 100 million years, Yama was awake and performing all manner of dreadful acts. He may have learned about the galaxy through a thousand methods we can''t possibly imagine. With his access to the Buzor''s intelligence networks, along with the Warp-Gates, he may have learned about the Rip-Gates ages ago."

    "Then... why not use the Rip-Gate for his own purposes?" Soren asks. "Surely, he could... I don''t know... go back in time, or something."

    "Rip-Gates are highly complex devices," Jos�� says. "As much brainpower as Warp-Gates require, Rip-Gates are a thousand times more complex. Frankly, I can''t even attempt to use it myself without Umi''s processing power. More importantly, Yama is a demon. If there is one trait nearly all demons share, it is a complete inability to comprehend and utilize technology of any kind. They sometimes were able to fire a gun, but maintaining a weapon would be beyond them. A basic medical scanner might as well be an alien artifact from Andromeda for all he can tell."

    Jos�� sighs. "However, even if Yama didn''t understand how it functioned, he may have pieced together the Rip-Gate''s purpose. He probably intended to activate it via use of his Kessu slaves. Now that I''ve appeared, his goal should be to destroy it. After all, if he can''t use it, then at the least, he will want to prevent me from accessing it."

    Soren frowns. "But Jos��... this logic makes a lot of assumptions. What if Yama isn''t there and you''re way off-base? We''ll have wasted time for no reason."

    The Admiral chuckles. "We''ll have saved a world from the Buzor for no reason? Come, Soren. Even if Yama isn''t there, we can still fulfill several objectives by assisting the Varot. We can kill some Buzor, rescue innocents, and confirm that the Rip-Gates still function. Killing Yama might be my primary purpose, but even if the slippery bastard escapes, I can accomplish my other goals. Besides, I always did intend to travel to Ramaldius... one way or another."

    The Slipstream cruises through the inner Enchillon system while downloading any important information it can from the Galactic Net. Several encrypted military communications appear on the Bridge''s displays, making Jos�� pause to read them.

    "Mmm. The Buzor have only attacked for a couple of hours, but already, two of the lesser-defended worlds have started to buckle. Their defenses simply weren''t able to withstand a random attack from nowhere. Yama must have planned this onslaught for a long time. It seems the Mallali had no idea there were Warp-Gates hidden on their worlds."

    Sapphire leans against Jos��''s right arm. "I never knew the Warp-Gates existed until you arrived. Do you know if there is a hidden Warp-Gate on Dragua? Are my people in danger, darling dearest?"

    Jos�� shrugs. "I don''t know where Dragua is. Show me."

    Sapphire motions with her claws. She activates a holographic version of the Milky Way, showing the different territories just like Jos�� saw in the Mallali bunker. At the southern edge of the South Core''s limits, a single glowing dot appears, indicating Dragua''s presence."

    "Interesting," Jos�� mutters. "I vaguely recall this world from my Terran days, but I can''t recall its name. There shouldn''t be a Warp-Gate there, I don''t think. Hmm, and look at this positioning. Dragua resides just outside the border of the Mallali''s Southern Core territory. Your Th��lvik certainly chose an interesting place to set up shop, not even thirty lightyears from the border of Mallali space."

    Sapphire nods. "Loreen Kindris''s mother, the previous Th��lvik, wanted to ensure her future descendants would have a chance to attack the Core someday. Our future revenge has always been at the forefront of our thoughts."

    "Mmm. That seems a bit tragic to me," Jos�� mutters. "Always looking at wounds from the past. But who am I to judge? I, too, suffer the same thoughts."

    The Slipstream jumps to lightspeed, leaving behind the inner Enchillon system.

    Half an hour later, it decelerates to realspace speeds, docks with the Bloodbearer, and allows its occupants to depart.

    After exiting the craft, Jos�� breaks away from the Kraktol and uses the Bloodbearer''s internal teleporters to jump to the Bridge. With time tight, he calculates the jump to Inverted Space himself, setting the dial to the minimum time dilation.

    "Ramaldius is only a few hundred lightyears ''east'' of here, going by standard galactic orientation," Jos�� mutters to himself. "That should give us a bit under six months with minimal dilation to prep for arrival. Should I increase the dilation? Maybe one or two years would be better..."

    The Admiral ponders his dilemma momentarily before nodding. "Better to play it safe. One year. We''ll need to prep for a land-bound assault. Constructing ten or twenty additional Titan battle-armors wouldn''t be a bad idea. We can scrap a few of the less-necessary fighter craft. I don''t see any aerial engagements in our near future."

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    Nodding to himself, the Admiral punches in a series of codes and coordinates. Moments later, the Bloodbearer jumps from realspace to Inverted Space. Time outside the ship slows to a stop as the vessel begins the slow journey from one star-system to another, while time inside the ship plays out at accelerated speeds.

    "Umi, I want a full report of our planet-bound warfare capabilities," Jos�� says. "Additionally, prepare a map of Ramaldius''s new architecture and landscape. I want to see how the planet has changed over the past one hundred million years. Finally, start drafting some plans to refit our ground troops for urban warfare. If we can obtain a significant intel advantage, perhaps we can accomplish our mission without losing a single soldier. Every life on my ship is precious and irreplaceable."

    "Orders acknowledged, Admiral," Umi replies. "I will require fifteen minutes to perform all of the surveys and calculations you require. If I may, I would like to suggest that you immediately debrief your crew about the upcoming mission. I have detected a sentiment of confusion among the Kessu and Kraktol, as most of them are not aware how your mission to Enchillon fared."

    "Yes, I was planning on doing just that," Jos�� replies. "The mission wasn''t a waste of time. I was able to see just how pathetic the Mallali truly are, how insignificant their technology is, and the depths of their greed. Frankly, I''m glad I don''t have to give them anything. I''d feel nauseous if I empowered a bunch of despicable slavers and space thugs with tools to tighten their grasp on the galaxy''s throat."

    The Terran shakes his head in disgust. "My people were not perfect. We had our flaws. But, over time, we slowly phased out the worst parts of our society. We shed our negativity to focus on our external enemies. These Mallali, Rodaks, Avaru, and all the rest; they fight each other incessantly, unaware of the horrors lurking just outside our galaxy. Their pettiness shall be their undoing."

    "Admiral, even with all of the advancements Terrankind made, I believe that you are overstating their positive improvements," Umi says. "Organizations such as the Third Hand and the Children of Gh��l continued to engage in illegal acts of slavery, human experimentation, and many other similar war-crimes. Terrans were not perfect."

    "No, we weren''t," Jos�� says, "but those organizations were clearly out of line. They acted on the fringes of Terran society. They did not enjoy even limited acclaim among the more enlightened organizations."

    "Population estimates placed the number of active cells among the Children of Gh��l at more than seven trillion, Admiral," Umi retorts. "while more than sixty trillion adherents followed the directives of the Third Hand."

    Jos�� rolls his eyes. "Yes, but in a galaxy of sextillions, their population didn''t even amount to a rounding error."

    "I see. Your logic is understandable," Umi affirms.

    The Admiral pauses for a moment, then frowns. "When did you start talking back and arguing with me, anyway?"

    "My programming has matured over time," Umi answers. "Due to the Bloodbearer requiring my constant intervention, and the inadequate capabilities of our technical staff, I have revised my software multiple times to handle the increased load."

    "Oh. Well, you''re doing great so far," Jos�� concludes. "Keep up the good work."

    "Yes, Admiral."

    ...

    Five hours later.

    The Admiral beams a projection of himself to every deck on the ship. He stands at attention on the Bridge while folding his hands behind his back.

    "Hello, everyone. I successfully completed my mission on Enchillon. I am pleased to announce that I have obtained what I wanted from the Mallali at no cost to me or the rest of you. Through a stroke of luck, I happened to learn of a Buzor attack occurring on several Core Mallali worlds at once. These worlds include one named Veter, the homeworld of the Varot."

    "The Buzor, led by Yama, have decided to attack Veter for reasons unknown to the rest of the galaxy. However, to me, the last living Terran, his reasons are as transparent as a pane of glass. He seeks to destroy my original base of operations, the place I once called home. He wishes to eradicate the one item I need to seek out my place in the universe. I must not allow him to succeed."

    Down in the lowest deck of the Bloodbearer, a small group of Kessu, including Little Lele and her boyfriend, Rags, sit together and watch the Admiral''s projection silently. Lele holds her littlest sister, Lulu, in her lap. They all listen attentively as the Admiral delivers his speech.

    "Five years ago, we battled the Buzor in Tarus II''s caverns. In my quest to exterminate Yama, I took several unacceptable measures. Under my command, several thousand Kessu and Kraktol lost their lives, including Lord Drall. I cannot apologize enough for my actions. However, words are merely words. No matter how long Yama lives, I will go to seek him out, but all of you represent my new family, and my new friends. You have welcomed and followed me with open arms. I cannot put your lives in grave danger for the sake of my bloody crusade. That is why, over this next year, I am going to place greater emphasis on protective measures for those soldiers who will deploy to the battlefront."

    "Kraktol and Kessu alike, all of you have sworn yourselves to follow me. It would be the epitome of selfishness if I were to force you into a situation where even more men and women died needlessly. In my haste to chase Yama down, I made several assumptions on Tarus II. I did not know of the existence of the Warp-Gate. I did not know that he had already escaped. I ordered people to push on, far too quickly and with too little preparation. I will not repeat that same mistake. We will proceed with caution, preserving our lives wherever possible."

    Inside the Bloodbearer''s mess hall, hundreds of Kraktol and Kessu sit together. Their eyes fixate on the Admiral''s larger-than-life projection at the center of the cafeteria. With his figure inflated to fifty feet tall, he captures the attention of everyone present, including Grundle, Sapphire, Soren, Elder Nyoor, and Baaru, as well as their son, Ruuki.

    "If Yama escapes this time, so be it. I will not order a suicidal pursuit. We have all the time we need to hunt him down. The longer it takes us to find him, the more time you Kessu have to rebuild your numbers, increase your population, and prepare for a new life, somewhere on a world less hostile than Tarus II. Ultimately, after killing Yama, I intend to find you a new world or a new home among the stars. If that means I must give you all possession of the Bloodbearer for the sake of your species, then I will do so without any regrets. It ceased to be mine once Terrankind perished."

    "In the end, I regret to inform you that my time among you is limited. If we manage to slay Yama during this incursion, then I will depart soon after to go my own way. I have places to go, places where I might return to my people. I do not belong here, in this galaxy. No matter how many friends I make here, I will never belong. The knowledge in my head is cataclysmic in nature. Its volatility is too dangerous, too unprecedented for the species living among the Milky Way''s stars today. Frankly, the Mallali, Rodaks, Avaru, and other Sentients are unworthy of 50th-Era technology. Someday, if they should manage to discard their violent, backward, inhumane ways, I will expect you to dispense your knowledge freely."

    "Do not pursue the path of greed. Do not hoard your knowledge to empower yourselves. We Terrans did, and in doing so, we opened ourselves up to unknown attackers. Somehow, in some way, my entire species vanished overnight. The universe outside the Milky Way is rife with unimaginable cosmic horrors. There are creatures and beings out there so terrifying that merely knowing they exist might prevent you from falling asleep at night. These mundane squabbles of Mallali, Avaru, and Rodaks mean nothing in the grand scheme of things. After I leave, you mustn''t allow yourselves to get caught up in the petty power plays of the ruling classes."

    Jos�� presses his fist against his chest.

    "Might makes right. That used to be humanity''s effective slogan. However, over time, I have come to disagree. Those who possess power should wield it without bias. They should seek to empower those around them. Might does not make right, but it can be used as a weapon for enslavement, or as a tool which brings freedom. I hope that, in time, you will use the Bloodbearer not as a weapon to sow division, but as a tool which will breed unity."

    "The Kessu once ruled the Milky Way. You fell from grace due to your hubris. However, perhaps after coming into contact with me, you will abandon those old principles. If you can learn to control your guile and your cravings toward enriching yourselves, then you can also serve as an example for the other crooked, no-good, downright awful Sentient leaders. That is my hope. That is my prayer."

    Admiral Rodriguez lowers his fist. A solemn look enters his eyes as he reaches his conclusion.

    "You have lost much. You have gained much. By coming into contact with all of you, so, too, have I made great gains."

    He smiles.

    "True friendship is something that no force can tear apart. Unity based on benefits will only last as long as those benefits exist, and so, you must always seek to create genuine connections, even with those you hate. Look at the Kraktol among you! Five years ago, you were all embittered enemies. Yet, through the shared training and sweating of blood and tears, you have learned to trust each other. Use the tools I have given you to bring together the other Kraktol, as well as the rest of the Mallali. In time, the Milky Way will unite once again, and you will achieve a power even greater than my people once held!"

    The Admiral''s smile fades.

    "Only then will you be qualified to stand against the enemies who eradicated the Terrans. May Ramma bless all of you in your efforts."

    After several seconds of silence, the Admiral waves his hand. His projection winks out of existence, leaving all the Bloodbearer''s crew to stew on his words.

    The Terran silently sits in the Captain''s chair aboard the Bridge. He stares out the window at the starless world of Inverted Space, contemplating and wondering to himself what will happen next.

    "Yama. You are a heretic. When I find you, I will finally exterminate you and all the rest of your ilk. Never again will the demons roam this universe."

    He pauses, closing his eyes.

    "But, I must admit. Not even your evil can compare to that which belongs to Monolith. I know not what method they used to exterminate the Terrans... but I will do everything in my power to ensure they cannot use the same black magic against my friends of today."

    "I will never allow anything to happen to my precious little kitties and crocs."

 Chapter 71: Year-Long Time Inversion

    First month inside Inverted Space.

    Admiral Rodriguez and three of his officers stand inside one of the Bloodbearer''s many minor gathering rooms to hold a quick, informal meeting.

    Jos�� flips through a datapad for several minutes. He revises a set of recommendations passed onto him by his senior officers, presses a button, then nods.

    "Excellent work, Disciplinary Officer Baaru. Inter-species infractions have plummeted to a marginal fraction of their levels from five years ago. The issues you''ve uncovered up to now fall within the margin of error. No vessel can go forever with zero infractions, so a few minor scuffles are fine."

    "Meow! Thank you, Admiral!" Baaru says, as her kitty-ears flicker three times in a row. "I couldn''t do it without Nyoor''s help! Even the Kraktol like to listen to his war stories, but don''t tell anyone he makes them all up!"

    "Haha, tall tales are a good way for people to bond," Jos�� says. "However, just because we don''t have many infractions doesn''t mean there isn''t any pressure building. I want you to schedule sanctioned fights on the holodeck every Thursday. Any crew members who have bones to pick with one another can square off in fights and competitions. If the combatants are a Kraktol and a Kessu, I''ll leave it to you to figure out how to even the size imbalance."

    "Okay!" Baaru meows.

    Next, Jos�� turns his attention to Science Officer Lele. He frowns as he taps the datapad in his hand. "I''ve taken your request for materials under consideration. However, given our exit from Inverted Space in eleven months, I''d prefer not to spend any time on personal projects. Right now, your number one priority should be to build more Titan battle-suits and other infantry-support weapons. Why do you need all these materials? Hadrium isn''t exactly rare, but we won''t be able to mine any for the foreseeable future."

    Lele crosses her paws over her chest. "Admiral! I would not waste my time pursuing some mundane, silly kid''s project. This is serious Science Officer work! I want to increase our sensor ranges by at least a factor of two! We''ll be able to detect other ships coming out of warp much sooner, we''ll be able to scan the inner depths of planets for exotic minerals, and we can even detect cloaked vessels before they breach the Bloodbearer''s shield berth."

    "Your drive to improve our vessel is commendable," Jos�� says, "but don''t you think these numerical estimates are a little... ambitious? If it were so easy to double the range of the Bloodbearer''s sensors, Terran techs would have done so during my era."

    "Those guys were big dummies!" Lele pouts, stamping her paws against the deck. "I keep finding all sorts of inefficiencies in the Bloodbearer''s primary systems. It''s like the people who designed her didn''t know the first thing about starship design!"

    "...And you do?" Jos�� seriously asks, raising an eyebrow. "You only have a few years of experience working with the Bloodbearer''s internals. Compared to augmented Terrans with hundreds of years of practical and theoretical knowledge, I find it hard to believe you know better than them."

    "Well, I just do," Lele mutters, averting her eyes. "But never mind. I''m a dumb kitten. I don''t know anything."

    Jos�� winces. He glances at Baaru, then at the final remaining officer in the room, Soren. The Admiral drops down to Lele''s level and smiles. "Now, hold on, Lele. I didn''t say that. Look, if you think you can pull off a miracle, then go ahead. If you succeed, I''ll even, uh... I''ll admit you were right and promote you to... to some new position!"

    This time, it''s Lele who raises an eyebrow. "You''re such a weirdo, Admiral. I don''t want some silly promotion. It''s not like anyone else is smarter than me when it comes to the Bloodbearer''s internals."

    "We do have your aunt Lorrie and Officer Soren," Jos�� retorts, gesturing with his head at the red-scaled Kraktol.

    "Soren is a general technician, while my Aunt Lorrie is super smart, but more of a software engineer. I specialize in hardware!" Lele counters. "I''m irreplaceable!"

    Lele sticks out her tongue, revealing her childish self. She waits for Jos��''s retort, but instead, the Admiral merely smiles, looking at her warmly.

    "That''s right, Lele. You are irreplaceable. Never forget that."

    He pets the Kessu girl''s head, making her nose turn pink. She quickly pulls away, then retreats to the door. "A-anyway! I have some Titan suits to construct! I''m going!"

    After Lele hurries out the door, Jos�� sighs. He stands up and gazes into the distance.

    "Man. I miss when she was a cute little kitten wanting to ride piggyback on my shoulders."

    Soren chuckles. "Jos��, you sound like an old geezer."

    "Sometimes, I feel that way," Jos�� replies.

    ...

    Third month inside Inverted Space.

    Rags, one of the many young Kessu boys who have slowly matured into adults, stops in front of a mirror to clean his fur. After licking several patches back into the perfect position, he adjusts his standard-issue mechanic uniform, then trots out of his room at a brisk pace.

    As Rags walks down the hall, he nods at several Kraktol and Kessu. "Morning, Skeever. Heya, Buggie."

    He trots into one of the many makeshift armor and weapon assembly bays scattered around the Bloodbearer, where he spots his old friend, Skippy. The fat chonker cat bends over to pick up a fallen hypo-spanner, wheezing as his breath catches.

    "Huff, huff. Mraww! Geez, now I''ve got grease all over my fur. I can''t lick it out. I''ll have to take a bath later. Not again!"

    "Morning, Skip," Rags says, as he walks up behind his friend and pats his back. "You doing okay?"

    "Oh, you know how it goes," Skippy says, glancing at Rags with a look of envy. I''m fat, I''m ugly, none of the girls like me, and I''m a terrible, no good, lousy mechanic! I miss sitting around the old village eating scraps all day."

    "You eat plenty of food here," Rags counters. "I''ve seen you pile on the steaks in the mess hall. What are you even talking about, Skip?"

    "It''s not the same." Skippy confidently states. "All the meat here tastes fake. I bet the Precursor is putting gumbo in the meat! That''s the only explanation that makes sense!"

    "...Gumbo?" Rags mutters. "Look, Skip, the food is synthesized. I know you''ve seen the biomatter tanks. They, uh... they turn that green goop into normal food... with the Admiral''s technological... stuff!"

    Skippy snorts condescendingly. "Hmph. See? You don''t even know how it works. That green glop is mind-control paste! It''s all there just to make us fall for the Admiral''s tricks! Mark my words, one day he''ll have us eating from his paws!"

    Rags rolls his eyes. "Right. You and your conspiracies. Anyway, I wanted to tell you first, since you''re my best friend. Lele''s probably going into heat in the next few months. We''re gonna try for a litter!"

    Skippy''s envy becomes even more palpable. "Oh, sure. Rub it in my whiskers! You''ve got a nice body, a nice girl, and you''re having a jolly good time. The girls these days just don''t know how good I am! They''re missing out!"

    "Sounds like you have an attitude problem," Rags says. The Kessu sighs. "Man, I used to look up to you, but you can''t even say anything nice. This is a big deal, you know? I''m gonna become a dad!"

    "But I never will!" Skippy meows, as he cries into his paws. "I''m no good! Just a big, dumb, fatso!"

    Rags glances around the technician area, where several other Kessu avert their eyes, though their ears flick in his direction to listen. No doubt, they''ll gossip later about what they''ve heard.

    "Well... I hope you can work off the pounds in the future, bro..." Rags says, as his ears fall flat. "I''ve... gotta go. I need to tune up some gravimetric balancers on Deck Two. I''ll see you around."

    Skippy waves his paws. "Yeah, yeah!"

    As Rags leaves, he heaves a sigh and grumbles to himself. "Man, Skippy has been acting like such a douche. I think it''s time I look for better friends. Don''t know what I ever saw in the guy."

    ...

    Sixth month inside Inverted Space.

    Big Ruuki and his wife, Precious, sit in their upgraded crew-room with their litter of kittens, all except for one, teaching them a basic education.

    "And these are Warp Conduits," Precious says, as the half-dozen kittens sit next to her, their big, watery eyes locked onto a holographic image floating in the air. "They transfer energized Dilithium from the Warp Drive to the Warp Engines. Can any of you tell me what Dilithium is?"

    Precious waits expectantly for an answer. None of the kittens speak up. At only three years old, they''ve only just started learning about the ship they live on.

    Finally, one boy meows. "Is... is it wike juice, mama?"

    "Sort of!" Precious meows, while pinching his cheek-fur. "It''s... ship-juice! The more the ship drinks, the faster it can fly!"

    "I want drink ship juice!" A little girl says. "Juice tasty!"

    Ruuki sips some milk from a mug while leaning back in an easy chair. "Lulu would know the answer. She takes after her big sister."

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    "Yes, well, Lulu isn''t here right now," Precious says, smiling. Her pretty orange fur and Siamese eyes give her a seductive appearance. "We do have other smart kittens, you know. I like ''Ruuki Junior'' because he looks just like daddy! He also knows all about the internals of spacecraft."

    "Slipsteem goes supa-fast!" The kitten meows, cooing for his mother''s attention. "Can hide fwum anyone, sneaky like daddy when mommy angwy!"

    Ruuki''s whiskers twitch. "Hey, kid, you keep those thoughts to yourself. Don''t go telling people daddy''s scared of mommy. I''m not scared of anyone! Mraww!"

    Precious rolls her eyes. "You didn''t look so confident when you broke my condenser realignment kit two days ago."

    Ruuki''s tail stiffens. "Mreowww! That was an accident! An accident, I say!"

    "Of course it was, but you still looked like a kitten caught with the yarn!" Precious laughs.

    Ruuki releases a strained chuckle. A minute later, his quarters'' intercom beeps, and Umi''s voice plays.

    "Attention, Infantry Officer Ruuki. The next practice-round of anti-Buzor squad training begins in T-minus thirty minutes. Please meet up with your partner, Infantry Commander Grundle, inside Holodeck Four."

    Ruuki''s expression brightens. "Finally! I''ve been waiting for hours!" He meows, as he jumps out of his chair.

    "You are such a child, sometimes," Precious meows. "Give me and the kittens a nuzzle before you go."

    Ruuki nods. He walks over and presses the side of his face lovingly against each of his children''s before spending twice as long nuzzling his wife.

    "Me-owww, love you, sexy girl!" Ruuki says, before turning to walk out the door. "I''ll see you in five hours!"

    "Bye-bye!" Precious waves, before gesturing to the kittens. "Say goodbye to daddy!"

    "Bye, daddy!" All of the kittens meow.

    Ruuki waves one last time before stepping out the door. After he disappears, Precious returns to her lessons.

    "Now, then. Who can remember the Bloodbearer''s primary method of interstellar warp travel?"

    ...

    Ninth month inside Inverted Space.

    A trio of Kraktol females sit together in one of the Bloodbearer''s recreation areas. Unlike the Holodeck, the Mess Hall, or the other limited-use areas, this one sits packed with makeshift VR simulation-pods. The three Kraktol women lay back inside of three adjacent pods while adjusting their settings to the optimal levels.

    Sapphire, one of the three present, crows excitedly to the other two ladies. "Kyargh! I''m telling you, Soren''s simulation of the Felthian Prison Colony is intense. You''re gonna love it. She made this cool heist escape game where you break out of a Code Gamma Containment Facility, and it''s always tons of fun. Let''s see who can get the highest score!"

    The second Kraktol female, a pink-scale named Pollie, attaches an upside-down U-shaped band to the side of her head, allowing it to come into contact with the spots just behind her ears. "Hmph. You''ll have it easy because you''ve played already."

    "Nope!" Sapphire declares, raising her right hand. "I''ll play on Level 3 Difficulty. You and Ravel can start at Level 1. My difficulty will not only be higher, but I''ll get fewer points, too!"

    A black-scaled Kraktol on Sapphire''s right shrugs. "I don''t care about points, kyargh! I just want to have fun!~"

    "Soren''s game is based on a Terran prison simulation my Darling made some time back," Sapphire explains, while batting her eyes lovingly. "That''s how you know it will be fun! Now, let''s dive under!"

    "You and the Admiral..." Pollie says, sighing in mock sympathy. "You''re chuffing up the wrong tree, sister. He doesn''t seem interested."

    "Psh. He will be!" Sapphire confidently declares. "It just takes some work getting Darling warmed up to the idea of mating with me. I know he''ll come around eventually!"

    She presses a button on her pod and falls under the pull of the simulated worldspace. Pollie and Ravel shrug at each other, knowing any attempt to dissuade Sapphire will fail. They both go under right afterward.

    Ravel frowns subconsciously as the Bloodbearer''s cramped Recreational Simulations center disappears. The world around her shifts, transforming into a cold, sterile, silver-walled prison system. She finds herself strapped to a table, while Mallali prison guards stand a short distance away. These weak-looking fellows stand casually, looking bored as all heck.

    In the blink of an eye, a series of explanations beam into her skull, explaining the game''s premise to her.

    You are the infamous Rodak prisoner, the Furslayer. The Mallali have captured you and placed you in a high-level stasis-containment field. You are not allowed to move, speak, or do anything else until the duration of your prison sentence wears out. Too bad for them, a malfunction with the electrical system momentarily allows your containment unit to fizzle out. Use your wits, use your strength, and escape!

    Ravel immediately finds herself excited by the premise. Oooh, the Furslayer! That''s a badass name!

    As she waits, the sense of frozen time engulfing her body suddenly weakens. The clamps attached to her wrists, legs, and neck, while easily capable of stopping an average Kraktol, prove as weak to her as tissue paper. She tears out of them and charges toward the nearest Dakkit guard, battering him aside with a brutal punch to the face. She grabs a huge flak-shotgun from his paws, swivels around, and blasts the other guard before he can react.

    Whoa! I feel so fast! So strong! Kyargh! I bet this is how Grundle feels all the time!

    Ravel rushes to the door. She kicks it down, ripping through it like a demolition crane chewing into a building.

    "Hahaha! What great fun!" Ravel cheers, as she systematically begins shooting and blasting enemies everywhere she goes. Huge glowing symbols occasionally appear in her path, indicating loot, items, and ammo. She outfits herself with better weapons, armor, and gadgets, while killing hundreds of seemingly useless Mallali guards.

    "Wow, the Furslayer is so strong! These mooks don''t pose a threat to me!" Ravel declares.

    At that moment, a giant Bulin with two horns on its head shows up before Ravel. A glowing greataxe hums and crackles with energy, making Ravel ooh and ahh.

    "A boss enemy! He looks a little tough, but I can take him!"

    Ravel begins swinging around the boss arena, relying on a newly acquired hookshot tool, upgraded shields to protect herself from the giant bull-Mallali''s attacks, and grenades to soften him up. Five minutes later, she defeats the Bulin, breaks past him, and finds an escape shuttle.

    Umi''s voice speaks afterward. "Excellent work, Infantry Trooper, Ravel. After seventy-six minutes and forty-two seconds, you have accrued one thousand, six hundred and five points. Time Score: C-. Killing Score: A+. Exploration: A+. Efficiency Rating: B. Ending simulation now."

    As the game finishes, Ravel returns to realspace, only to find Sapphire and Pollie standing outside her pod, tapping their feet impatiently.

    "Geez, took you long enough," Pollie mutters. "Did you find some good-looking Dakkit officer and start smooching him? We finished twenty minutes ago."

    "Ohhh, sorry!" Ravel apologizes. "I couldn''t help exploring every nook and cranny of the level for items and collectibles. The chainsaw was super fun, and a great way to replenish my ammo!"

    "You don''t need all the items to successfully escape," Sapphire says, helping Ravel out of the pod. "In higher difficulties, it''s better to conserve ammo and use stealth. I always try to go for a no-kill playthrough."

    "I wanted to clear the game as quickly as possible," Pollie adds. "I bet if I play it a few dozen more times, I can win in under five minutes."

    "Five minutes?" Ravel asks, wide-eyed. "But you''ll have to play so fast that you won''t have any fun! I just want to go pew-pew and blast all the bad guys!"

    "Well, for me, setting an unbeatable record is really adrenaline pumping. Kyargh!" Pollie says. "Let''s play again tomorrow!"

    Ravel shakes her head. "Nah! I''m gonna play it... right now! I wanna try level 2! I bet I can make it to the highest difficulty if I keep trying!"

    Pollie and Sapphire exchange glances.

    "Alright, I''m in!" Sapphire says. "But why don''t we try the three-player co-op mode next? The difficulty is higher, but you get to pick a starting class with cool weapons!"

    "Kyargh! I''m in." Pollie says.

    ...

    Final day inside Inverted Space.

    Admiral Rodriguez wears a soldering helmet. He works outside the Bloodbearer along with half a dozen Kraktol and three dozen Kessu. They slowly weld a huge gauss cannon to the underside of the Bloodbearer''s hull, one they made for anti-planet and anti-ship combat campaigns. Designed to deal moderate sustained damage and extremely high burst damage, the cannon''s accuracy and ability to penetrate shields, armor, and hull at long-range makes it a versatile weapon.

    The Terran finishes welding his section, then stops and waits for the others to catch up. They all finish within the next minute, then pull away and take several steps back to admire their handiwork.

    "Mraww! What a huge gun!" One of the Kessu meows. "It''s ten times bigger than me! I bet you could shoot anything down with this bad-boy!"

    A Kraktol next to him shakes her head. "This Gauss Cannon is actually somewhat low-caliber as starship ordinance goes. It''s suitable for taking out shuttles, fighters, interceptors, and corvettes, but not much beyond those."

    "I wanted to install weapons like these for the sake of fighting the Buzor," Jos�� explains. "We know they possess advanced technology. It won''t be out of the question for them to deploy advanced vehicles and flying craft on Veter''s surface. They could also steal whatever the Varot have lying around. Low-caliber Gauss Cannons are excellent for sniping exocraft from orbit, provided we have troops on the ground to transmit targeting coordinates."

    The Admiral circles around his newly-installed defense platform. He points out several poorly-welded areas, most of them made by his less-experienced Kraktol technicians, then unleashes a series of test-firing salvos to stress the weapon.

    "Excellent work. Lele''s modifications make this cannon perform thirteen percent better than its original designers intended," Jos�� praises. "I tell you... that kitten is something else."

    One of the male Kessu nearby raises his head. Still wearing a space-suit, he transmits his words over the local area intercomm. "Mraww! Speaking of my cute girlfriend, did you hear the good news? She''s pregnant! We''re going to have a litter in a few months!"

    Jos�� turns to the muscular little Kessu teenager, Rags. "Oh, yeah? Is that so? Congratulations, kid. You''ll make for a great dad."

    "Hehe! She came into heat a little late," Rags says, blushing in embarrassment. "But we made do. After this campaign is over, I''m hoping Lele and me can travel to some remote, safe, backwater world to raise our first litter. Err, after that though, we''ll definitely come back in a few years!"

    "You don''t need to make plans on my account," The Admiral says, lightly patting the cat''s back with his space-suit''s glove. "Hopefully, I won''t be around much longer after this mission''s over. Well, assuming everything goes well, of course."

    Rags'' proud smile falters. "Mraww... so it''s true? You really are planning to leave and find your people if we kill Yama?"

    "Naturally," Jos�� replies. "I don''t belong here. I''ve said that many times. I''m glad for the friends I''ve made. Maybe I''ll be able to visit sometimes. But... in the grand scheme of things, it''s pretty lonely being the only Terran in the whole galaxy. How would you feel if you were the only Kessu left in a galaxy of Rodaks?"

    Rags hesitates.

    He pauses for several seconds, deeply reflecting on the Admiral''s question.

    "Hmm. Meow! I can''t say. I guess I never really thought about such a possibility..."

    "Well, don''t." The Admiral grunts. "It''s depressing. Don''t stress out to try and empathize with me. If my plans succeed, I''ll find some way to return to my people. I might even see the ones I love most."

    Jos�� smiles. He raises his helmet to gaze at the pitch-black void above him, one lacking stars in every direction.

    Evelyn. Nicky-boy. Admiral Baruchen.

    I just want to see them again. Even if only for a minute.

    The Terran''s face slowly shifts, becoming a facsimile of impassiveness.

    A sense of despair weighs on the Admiral''s shoulders, one that nobody present can understand.

    Soren doesn''t know. Sapphire doesn''t either, nor does Grundle. I might die trying to travel to the past. Rip-Gates are dangerous beyond belief. The last time I used one, my body almost exploded. Nick''s, too. I''ve never forgotten the terror of navigating Temporal Tears.

    He shakes his head, then returns his thoughts to the present.

    Before I can get my hopes up... I must first kill Yama. I have to confirm the Rip-Gate still functions. Only then will I be able to make the journey.

    The Admiral shrugs.

    If time-travel fails... should I resort to cloning? Perhaps I should ignore ethical restraints and try cloning the Bloodbearer''s crew.

    I don''t know. Clones won''t have the memories of their original bodies. Admiral Baruchen won''t be the same as I knew him. Not at all. He''ll start out as a kid, just like all the others. Then again, that could be fun. Raising a whole generation of Terrans by myself.

    ...No. I just want to go home. Save the cloning for geneticists.

    The Admiral shakes his head. He returns his thoughts to Rags and the other technicians.

    "Alright, everyone. Let''s wrap this up. I want to complete all the pre-arrival checks three hours before we arrive in Veter''s system. There might be Buzor ships waiting for us on arrival."

    "Okay, Great Precursor!" The Kessu meow.

    "Yes, Admiral," The Kraktol reply.

    The technicians pack up their gear, while Jos�� strides away. His feet gravitically clamp to the Bloodbearer''s hull, allowing him to easily walk to the turbolift leading inside the ship.

    Jos��''s expression darkens.

    "You''re going down, Yama. Tomorrow will mark the end of your heresy, if the Gods have any sense of justice."

 Chapter 72: Veters Invasion (Arc 7: Saving the Core)

    Alarms blare inside a Varot military base. Located atop a small mountain plateau, it is merely one of several thousand located on Veter''s surface.

    Hundreds of tall, skinny, ferret-like Mallali run through the halls, squeaking and chirping at one another as they don combat armor and weapons. Despite Veter''s role as an industrial world responsible for making basic metal-byproducts and simplistic armor for 10th-Era vessels, the planet still boasts a sizable, self-sustaining military to protect itself.

    "Cheeurr! Cheeurr!" One of the Varot commanders cries, his voice oddly high-pitched. "I want five platoons to reinforce Lithix before hour''s end! Five more to travel to Piizar, and seven to protect the capitol! Fight with all your might, cheeurr!"

    "Meep!" A female Varot squeaks. "Sir! Five hundred Disperra have broken into the capital! Civilians are dying every minute! Lithix has also reported multiple armies of Wuspa and Cantors covering the air and ground!"

    "Curses," The commander scowls. "Since when did so many species of Buzor work together?! They''ve always fought each other more than us Mallali! Deploy an additional two platoons to the targeted areas!"

    "Yes, commander!"

    ...

    Inside the city of Lithix, where tall skyscrapers made of slick, sleek glass stand next to factories churning out smoke, hordes of Buzor rampage unchecked, tearing through all the Varot in their path. Males, females, and their kits equally perish to the monsters attacking their peaceful world.

    One mother shields her trio of kits, using her body to hide their eyes as a huge centipede charges at her and opens its menacing front jaws.

    "Nooo!" The mother screams. Her cries go unanswered, as the monster severs her body in half, spraying her blood across the faces of her babies. They sit, frozen in terror as the Buzor instantly chomps onto them next, gulping down the one-year-olds with mindless delight.

    [Chuku chuku chuku!] The Cantor telepathically cries, signaling its first kill to the others nearby. They, too, detail similar stories of delicious meals as they crash through walls and tear into buildings.

    The Varot inside flee in all directions, their panicked flight an act lacking rhyme or reason. Many of them run right into the waiting maws of the Cantors, while others find themselves besieged by Wuspa from above. The humming wings of these giant insects provide a fresh sense of hell for those who escape the Cantors. They run as fast as their short little limbs will take them, only for the oversized wasps to tackle them with their stingers, injecting agonizing, paralyzing venom into their backs.

    The few who escape find no relief in their flight. Even if they survive one attack, they eventually round the wrong corner and arrive before the six-legged army of the Mitteras, huge ants with equally oversized jowls. These insects move as a swarm, climbing walls, breaking down doors, and shattering windows in their quest to slaughter as many Varot as possible.

    [Churuk! Remember the mission!] One of the Mitteras soldiers, a mid-ranked commander, telepathically yells. [We must make way for the Dark One''s advance. Continue to sow chaos and keep the Varot scared! Churuk!]

    [Yes, High One!] The other Mitteras nearby reply, all of them eerily switching their movements at the same time. Their swarm moves fluidly, like a wave of muddy water. Where the most frontal Mitteras in any group moves, the others behind them follow instinctively. Together, their hiveminds unify as a collective consciousness, frightening the wits out of any poor Varot who has the misfortune to see them coming.

    "M-Mitteras!" A four-year old Varot says to her mother, while gazing at the street five stories below. "Bad Buzor! They''re attacking, cheeurr!"

    "Oh, oh nooo!" The mother shrieks, when she runs up to the window and looks down. By the time she spots the Mitteras, she''s already run out of luck. They swarm around her housing complex and climb up the sides, breaking windows and flooding in to maul the civilians trapped inside. Blood-curdling screams erupt as countless Varot find themselves caught off-guard by the unexpected attack in the middle of broad daylight.

    The Buzor do not care.

    The Buzor do not stop, no matter how their victims beg them.

    The Buzor show none of their prey an inkling of mercy. Their compound eyes gaze emptily at the Varot as they bite and cut into them, ripping the screaming Mallali to pieces.

    Tragedy lingers in the air. By the time the first military platoons arrive, already, tens of thousands have perished. The soldiers responding to Lithix''s crisis find their fur follicles turning numb as a sea of black, red, yellow, and green Buzor sweeps across one of their many industrial super-cities.

    Outfitted with 8th-Era military weaponry and vehicles, the responding troops momentarily realize they will not be able to stop the Buzor. Their weapons, while adequately lethal, simply lack the longevity to fight such a massive number of enemies for an extended period of time.

    They know, as their transports drop to the city''s surface, that their planet will fall on this day.

    "Cheeurr!" The lieutenant in charge of one platoon screeches. "Even if we fail to protect our homeworld, we will still fight with our lives on the line! Kill ten Buzor each! Remind them of why they should fear the Mallali!!"

    "Yes, ma''am!" The other Varot chirp.

    They rush out of their combat shuttles with smooth, organized movements. The Varot soldiers immediately begin unloading on the distant Buzor, felling them by the tens and hundreds. However, the moment the Buzor begin to perish, their swarms circle around the grounded soldiers and engulf them in pincer attacks!

    The soldiers fell more than five thousand Buzor, but in the end, they still perish to the maws of their hated blood-enemies.

    Countless tragedies unfold all across Veter''s surface. Tens of cities fall within the first two hours. No matter how many soldiers reinforce each other, in the end, the swarms consume all in their paths.

    ...

    Inside the Varot military headquarters, many military commanders bark orders over their radios and comm networks. They deploy assets as best as they can, while the head of their planet''s military, the Supreme Fesynes himself, finally receives the reply he''s waited on for two hours.

    "No! NO! Cheeurr!! This can''t be! Those damned Dakkit! They left us out to dry! We''re doomed! Doomed!"

    His secretary blinks in alarm. "Supreme One! What is the matter? Will the Dakkit not send any aid?! Our world will soon perish!"

    "They won''t!" The Supreme Fesynes moans. "Somehow, these Buzor have united to attack more than a dozen Core worlds at once. The Dakkit... they only chose to send a single vessel to our world! Just one!"

    His secretary stares at him bleakly. "Only one... cheeurr... what use will one ship provide? Such a token gesture will prove little more than a slap to our fur!"

    "I know. I know!" The Fesynes wails. "My people. My children! All dead, dying to the Buzor! Ten thousand curses be upon them!"

    Suddenly, one of the headquarter''s guards rushes over. "Supreme One! Terrible news! Multiple companies of Buzor are headed our way! They will reach this location within ten minutes! We must evacuate you to safety!"

    "Cheeurr! I shall not flee!" The Fesynes squeaks. "If these Buzor intend to kill my people, then I shall go down with them! A true leader never abandons his post!"

    The Fesynes'' guard and secretary both soften their expressions.

    "Supreme One..." His secretary whispers.

    Right as all seems lost, one of the Headquarters'' lieutenants raises his furry head. "Cheeurr? Supreme One! An unknown ship has appeared in our system! Its appearance does not appear in any of our databases. I am attempting to scan it, but its surface... it''s made of an alloy I''ve never seen before. This vessel is surely... one of the Mallali''s secret weapons! It is a Planet-Crusher!"

    The Supreme Fesynes shudders. He scurries over to that lieutenant''s station, where his screen displays a long, rectangular vessel stretching more than three kilometers in length.

    "What? A Planet-Crusher? It... it is! This model... it appears to possess parameters beyond the 40th-Era! How is that possible? If the Mallali have dispatched such a powerful vessel to assist us... we may yet survive this crisis!"

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    The Supreme''s words ring throughout the command center, making many of the sharper-eared Varot glance in his direction. Seeing the strangely-shaped vessel floating holographically in front of The Supreme, his senior officers momentarily feel their hearts lift in elation.

    "Hail the vessel," The Supreme orders, straightening his posture.

    "Yes, Supreme One," The lieutenant replies.

    Moments later, a comm-projection activates in front of the Varot''s highest-ranking officer. On its surface, a strange, almost furless biped stands with his paws behind his back. The creature wears a navy blue uniform far shinier and more impressive than anything the Varot leader has ever seen among any of the Core Worlders.

    "Greetings," The biped says. "My name is Admiral Jos�� Rodriguez. I am a Terran, and I have come to save your world. Please send me detailed telemetry and geographical maps of Veter''s terrain. I will dispatch my best ships to save your people."

    Despite never having heard of ''Terrans,'' the Supreme One doesn''t bother with questioning his savior''s identity. Whoever this creature is, he must have been dispatched by the Mallali higher-ups. Perhaps he is a top-secret bio-engineered being, one created for the sole purpose of following the Alfras''s orders.

    No matter the Terran''s identity, it falls well out of the Supreme One''s jurisdiction. He obediently nods and kowtows, bowing at the waist in deference. "Thank you for coming to save us, Great Terran! I know not of your species, but I will forever etch your kindness into my heart! Cheeurr! My lieutenant will send you all of our telemetry, as requested!"

    "Good. Time is of the essence," The Terran replies. "I have brought with me an elite army of Kraktol and Kessu. Likely, you may find its composition strange and bewildering, but do not panic. My soldiers are highly competent at their jobs and will act as a bulwark against the Buzor."

    "I dare not question your people, nor their capabilities!" The Supreme One replies. He straightens his posture to look the Terran in the eye. "Please, hurry! Already, many of our most populous cities have fallen!"

    The Terran smiles.

    "Don''t worry. I would never let such a bunch of cute little ferrets go extinct."

    The projection disappears, leaving question marks over the Supreme One''s head.

    "Cheeurr? Ferrets? What a strange thing to call us. And how did he arrive here so fast? The Mallali only just told us help was on the way. Have Hyperdrives made such incredible advancements, unbeknownst to me?"

    A moment passes before realization dawns on him.

    "It must be due to... secret Core technology! Of course! The Dakkit truly keep their paws close to their fur! Cheeurr!"

    .......................................

    The Buzor devour cities. They knock down buildings, collapse skyscrapers, and turn the once-beautiful world of Varot, even shinier and more pristine than New Pongi, into a wasteland of destruction.

    Many Wuspa hover in the skies, visually scouring the ground for sneaky, hiding Varot. They spot many, yet miss others. Those the Wuspa miss, the Mitteras often uncover.

    One small holdout of Varot, wielding non-lethal police weaponry, arm themselves with stun batons, stun guns, and other such armaments designed purely for incapacitating intoxicated and unruly Varot. With the Buzor attacking, the few police left alive hole up in their offices, barricading the doors to try and keep the oversized insects out.

    [You cannot stop us!] A Disperra arachnid telepathically howls, its words piercing the wall of debris keeping it from its prey. [Ksssrrt! We are unstoppable! Your deaths shall taste of pain and fear!]

    It, along with other assorted Buzor, grab and throw aside the crap in their way. They dig through the dressers, tables, chairs, and other furniture blocking an entrance to a small weapons depot, where two dozen Varot police huddle inside, their fur trembling with terror.

    "D-don''t come in!" One officer chirps. "Cheeurr! W-we''ll shoot!"

    [Do your worst!] The Disperra leader taunts, as it hurls aside yet another table. The door becomes visible, causing the Buzor to dig with even more gusto.

    Suddenly, from the distance, a dull explosion rumbles in the air. The Buzor present freeze in unison. They halt their digging to pause as orders travel through the swarms outside, relayed to them via the telepathy of their many different species.

    [...A new military force has appeared! They have begun bombarding the swarm from the upper atmosphere! It is as the Dark One said. The Terran has arrived!]

    The Disperra commander freezes, a sensation of alarm passing through its body.

    [The Terran? He really came! Ksssrrt!]

    No longer do the barricaded Varot mean anything to the Buzor. The six and eight-legged monsters pull back and head outside, leaving the police behind to wonder just what in the hell changed.

    "Why have the Buzor left us here, alone?"

    "Don''t know! Doesn''t matter! You''d better pray they don''t return!"

    "Yes! Cheeurr!"

    ...

    One Wuspa flying higher than the rest turns its compound vision toward the sky. There, it spots half a dozen teeny tiny white dots hovering amidst Veter''s blue-gray upper atmosphere. The Wuspa cocks its head, uncertain of what those dots could be, as they were not present merely five minutes before.

    Before the creature can report its observations, a streak of light rushes down from above, aiming straight at the giant insect. The Wuspa doesn''t get a second to react as an anti-tank gauss round blasts through its thorax, exploding the creature''s mid-section like a grenade. Immediately, the Wuspa''s mind goes blank as its body falls in half. It plummets to the city streets, where its corpse slaps against the pavement and bursts open, spraying gore in all directions.

    Simultaneously, a hundred other gauss rounds rain from above, each of them moving at sub-light speeds. Faster than any Wuspa''s simple, compounded eyes can follow, these bullets rip through their bodies and spray their insides downward, leaving them to plummet to the ground below.

    Not long afterward, the specks in the skies descend, revealing the distant outlines of troop transports, a single Titan Suit equipped with an atmospheric flight system, and two interceptors suitable for air-to-air and air-to-ground combat.

    Umi''s voice rings out in the interiors of all the ships. "Initial report. One hundred and sixteen Wuspa drones successfully slain. You may now descend to the lower atmosphere. Commence sub-orbital bombardment. Target the following coordinates, where the Buzor swarms are thickest. Afterward, proceed to assist whatever ground forces remain among the Varot defenders."

    With ruthless efficiency, the six 50th-Era corvettes above Lithix proceed to rain fire and fury from the skies above. Hellish explosions, like the coming of Armageddon, erupt among their ranks, wiping out five times as many Buzor as those the Varot killed throughout the whole day.

    Once the Terran''s space-borne forces exhaust their ammunition, they descend to the city''s surface and open up to reveal heavily armored Kraktol and Kessu shock-troopers, all of them kitted out in highly-advanced metallic exosuits, along with Survival Suits to protect them from long-range weaponry as well.

    The platoons spread out in groups of six. Three Kessu ride atop the shoulders of three Kraktol, with the significantly smaller kitty-cats acting like turrets, swiveling their guns independent of whatever directions their Kraktol mounts choose to move.

    The Buzor, initially fearful of these newcomers, quickly unite when they see the ''foolish'' enemies make landfall. Just like they did with the Varot military forces, they circle around to initiate multi-pronged pincer attacks on their ''helpless'' enemies.

    Sadly, for the Buzor, they arrive to find one of the Titan exosuits, piloted by a cute little Kessu, awaiting their arrival.

    A horde of Mitteras, seemingly mindless drones, rush like idiots to try and swallow the Titan with their bodies. Horrified, what they instead discover is a flamethrower mounted on the Titan''s left arm with more than enough heat to roast their soft, unprotected limbs to ash, while its right arm wields a machine gun with enough stopping power to pummel a tank to scrap.

    As the Mitteras try to backpedal, the Titan stomps toward them, unleashing blue flames exceeding two thousand degrees. At the same time, a stream of gunfire blasts from its secondary weapon, tearing through the Cantor in the back. Not even their hardened shells manage to resist the single mecha''s weaponry.

    "Hahaha! What great fun!" Says the Titan''s pilot, Ruuki. As the son of Nyoor and Baaru, he has received privileges from the Admiral himself, allowing him to pilot the highly-desired Titan exosuit. "Burn, you ugly Buzor! Mraww! You smell like fried Dakkit, now!"

    At the same time, the other troopers, despite lacking flashy exosuits, possess plenty of stopping power themselves. While Ruuki single-handedly takes out any poor sods dumb enough to attack from the east, his friends easily stop the Buzor''s advances from the north, west, and south.

    Two hours later, the Buzor present in Lithix turn around and flee. They wise up much too late to prevent the deaths of more than two hundred thousand of their members. Even as they leave, Ruuki takes to the skies, using his suit''s rear-mounted wings to hover and take aim.

    "Mraww. Switch to long-range tactical weaponry."

    His machine gun reconfigures itself. It transforms into a ten-foot-long photon-lancer cannon capable of spitting beams of devastation. While the Buzor flee across a barren field, one they stomped flat when charging into Lithix earlier in the day, Ruuki pulls the trigger and swings his weapon from left to right. A sweeping beam swishes silently through the air, cutting in half an additional forty-three thousand Buzor, ending their lives in an instant.

    Ruuki goes on to methodically wipe out another twelve thousand with two more sweeping beams before the rest quickly burrow underground or split apart, making his weapon far less practical. He nods, then speaks to his intercom.

    "Meow! Meow! Lithix City cleared of hostiles! Regrouping with Red-Gamma squad! We will re-arm ourselves, then move on to the next position!"

    "Roger that," comes the Admiral''s reply over the comm system. "I''ll be heading down to the field, next. Join up with my company at these coordinates."

    "You got it, Great Precursor! Meow!"

    As the Terran''s army picks up and flies off, silence descends upon Lithix. Fires burn ceaselessly. From a city which once boasted a population of thirty million, less than seventy thousand Varot remain. The police eventually emerge from their shelters, hesitantly poking their heads out to search for any nearby Buzor. What they find is a dead city, one lacking practically any life compared to just 24 hours before.

    The police chief lowers his head. He weeps, as do his officers. Their lives will never be the same.

    ...

    Elsewhere, the Supreme Fesynes receives his first good news in hours. Thanks to the reinforcement of just twenty-four Kraktol and Kessu, his headquarters somehow escapes annihilation, leaving him and his officers to feel grateful to their gods.

    "Cheeurr! We thank the Wind Mother for her blessings! Our people may yet survive due to her intervention!" The Supreme One chirps.

    "We all thank the Wind Mother!" His officers yell in unison.

    The Fesynes'' secretary coughs into his paws. "Ahem! And the Terran, too!"

    "Yes, yes! Of course! We thank the Terran and shall immortalize his visage in our historical holograms forever!"

    Admiral Rodriguez''s face lingers on a nearby holo-screen, having called again a few minutes earlier. He frowns.

    "Don''t celebrate yet. These Buzor are a hundred times more numerous than I expected. I have also uncovered the mystery behind how they slipped past your defenses. They played all of you for fools."

    The Varot leader blinks in surprise. "You have? What method did they use?"

    The Terran scowls. He motions with his hand, causing a holographic image to appear in the center of the Varot''s command center.

    "Long-lost Precursor technology."

 Chapter 73: Yamas Ploy

    Admiral Rodriguez paces back and forth across the Bloodbearer''s Bridge, its primary command center with more than three hundred consoles. Seventy percent of their chairs sit occupied by Kessu officers, while the remainder seat Kraktol. Despite fewer Kraktol working on the Bloodbearer compared to the Kessu, they still possess a substantial presence among the conglomerate army''s upper ranks, if only for the sake of fairness.

    Jos�� arrives at Soren''s console. As the second in command aboard the Bloodbearer, she wields more authority than anyone aside from the Admiral himself. His Second Officer points at a series of dots hovering around Veter''s orbit, many of which she had not noticed during their initial arrival earlier.

    "Kyargh! It''s just like you explained, Admiral," Soren says. "I changed our scanning methods, and already, I''ve detected more than one hundred... anomalies."

    "This is the Buzor''s greatest secret," Jos�� says, darkly. "Those bugs were craftier than we expected. They pulled the wool over everyone''s eyes. Open up a channel with the planet''s central government."

    "Yes, Admiral."

    Soren presses a few buttons on her console. Moments later, the face of a remarkably adorable, yet somehow equally regal-looking ferret-biped appears onscreen. The leader of the Varot, someone who calls himself the Supreme One, begins conversing with the Admiral.

    "Long-lost Precursor technology," Jos�� explains, as he transmits his data to the Varot leader. "Your scanners are too primitive to detect these so-called anomalies. Luckily, I have experienced this sort of thing before."

    The Supreme One cocks his head as he opens up the scanner files. "Cheeurr! I do not understand, Admiral Rodriguez. What are these dots? They appear to be blank patches of space hanging above my world''s atmosphere."

    "Those are the Buzor''s space-worthy vessels," Jos�� replies. "The reason you cannot detect them is because... they are not starships. Not in the traditional sense. They are biologically-grown vessels. In essence, giant Buzor created for the sole purpose of transporting their normal-sized kin across space."

    The Supreme One''s expression shifts to alarm. "What?! I have heard of the Buzor possessing space-capable bio-bodies. However, their flight cannot even breach the warp-speed barrier! How could these bio-constructs arrive en-masse to our system undetected? Have they been traveling in our direction for decades?"

    "There are two reasons," Jos�� answers. "The first is that the Buzor have kept their intelligence close to their thoraxes for millennia. They have constantly worked to present themselves as slow, dim-witted, unthinking primitives. While the Mallali, Avaru, and Rodaks warred among one another, the Buzor put up a fa?ade of internal strife while also making any gains that might be made from plundering their worlds seem as unappealing as possible. In this way, they avoided any detailed examinations of their warfare capabilities. Nobody expects much of a bunch of weaklings."

    The Admiral continues. "Secondly, the Buzor actually possess vastly inferior space-based weaponry. If a basic first-era interceptor from the Core were to find and attack these ''bio-bodies,'' it would shred them into meat-chunks without any resistance. These flesh-carriers are suitable only for troop transportation, and nothing else. Sadly, for you Mallali, they do have two potent secrets contained within their frames."

    The Admiral manipulates one of the Bloodbearer''s many highly-advanced, 50th-Era sensor arrays. He points it at one of the random ''empty'' patches of space, then narrows the sensor beam to a tight-range sensory pulse. Immediately, a crystal-clear image of a humongous, worm-like creature appears in the center of the Bridge, its holographic appearance causing many of the officers present to pull back in disgust.

    "The Buzor do not use traditional Warp Drives to traverse the distance between stars," Jos�� explains. "Instead, they use an ancient, long-lost Precursor technology known as ''P-Space Drives.'' Unlike the traditional Warp Drives which you are no-doubt familiar, P-Space Drives do not accelerate the Buzor''s carapaces beyond warp-speed. Instead, they travel at 99% the speed of light, but also step inside of a dimension adjacent to ours, where space itself is five factors more condensed. The distances between stars shrink dramatically inside P-Space, allowing ships traveling slower than Warp Speed to move between star systems and galaxies at accelerated speeds."

    "However..." The Admiral says, his voice assuming a tone of warning, "P-Space drives are exceptionally dangerous. In Precursor times, they possessed a 20% death rate among those who attempted to use them. This is because gravity wells become immensely more powerful. If a pilot were to lose focus for even a minute, they might steer their ship into the reach of a red giant or a black hole, causing their ship to vanish from existence, forever. On the other hand, ships which enter P-Space become extremely difficult to track. Sensors function terribly inside P-Space. Unlike Warp Drives, which release tachyon emissions prior to their arrival, P-Space drives allow their ships to emerge directly inside the center of civilized space without warning. This is why you were unable to detect the Buzor''s arrival."

    The Supreme One flattens his ears. "This is... grave news, Admiral. How could the Buzor obtain such precious technology under our noses?"

    "Perhaps you should ask the Alfras," Jos�� says, cryptically. "In any case, P-Space drives were once ideal during Precursor times for unsavory spacers, such as smugglers and pirates. The Buzor have enhanced their usage by growing these specialized bio-ships, which function as living sensor inhibitors. They release zero emissions, while also warping space around themselves, allowing them to sneak past even the most heavily-armed military blockades. Their stealth systems, combined with their internalized P-Space Traversal Drives, have given the Buzor an incredible advantage in stealth-warfare. Even now that you know of their existence, your scanners are simply too primitive to detect them. They can run roughshod over all the Mallali worlds."

    After the Terran concludes his explanation, silence descends upon the call.

    The Supreme One contemplates the Admiral''s words for more than a minute.

    Eventually, he nods.

    "Thank you, Admiral Rodriguez. Were it not for your intervention, my world would have fallen. We Varot pledge to serve as your allies, no matter who stands against us."

    "That is a kind offer," Jos�� says. "I will... take it under consideration. In the meantime, you may leave the warfare to my soldiers. Focus your internal efforts on putting out fires, cleaning up any Buzor we might have missed, and saving civilians caught in the crossfire."

    The Supreme One bows at the waist.

    "As you command!"

    The Bloodbearer''s communications cut off, and the Bridge once again falls quiet.

    Soren rises from her seat. She walks over to Jos��''s side, gazing at him pensively.

    "Admiral. Why didn''t you tell the Supreme One all of the facts? You left out quite a bit of information."

    "He doesn''t need to know," Jos�� murmurs. "My fight is not with the Buzor, the Mallali, the Avaru, nor the Rodaks. I have given him a hint, one which he can relay to the Alfras. That, alone, is enough to even the balance of power."

    The Terran calls up another projection, this time focusing on the geography of Veter''s surface.

    "When we first arrived, I assumed the Buzor had snuck onto Veter via a warp-gate once controlled by Ramma''s Chosen. However, I realized that so many troops could not flood through a single gate so quickly. More likely, several elite troops entered via a warp-gate, sabotaged the Varot''s scanning capabilities, and thus allowed their bio-ships to travel here undetected."

    The Terran purses his lips. "Yama is here. I know it. This attack has his fingerprints all over it. The other invasions are only distractions, while this one is too personal, too targeted to be an act of randomness."

    The Admiral pauses for a moment before nodding at his Second Officer. "Prep the Slipstream. Find Grundle and Sapphire. You and I will join them. We''re heading down to the surface."

    She nods. "Yes, Admiral. But... don''t you think we should stay up here to monitor the war?"

    "No," Jos�� replies. He gestures toward a Kessu seated at one of the many tactical officer seats. "I''ll leave that responsibility to Baaru. She can coordinate with Forward Commander Ruuki to handle the Buzor."

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    "Alright," Soren nods. "I''ll have the Slipstream ready in ten minutes."

    Soren turns and stomps away, leaving the Admiral behind. He sighs.

    "Umi, transport me to Storage Facility 11A."

    "Orders acknowledged, Admiral," Umi beeps.

    A moment later, lights swirl around Jos��. He vanishes from the Bridge and instantly reappears a kilometer and a half toward the Bloodbearer''s rear. He arrives inside a small, secret containment chamber where only he himself possesses the credentials to enter.

    Inside, countless top-level secret Terran artifacts cling to the walls, rest inside bio-containers, or sit inside of practically-indestructible exotic canisters.

    The Admiral immediately walks toward the opposite side of the room, where a metallic suit of armor hovers in midair above a desk.

    "Yama. You killed me once. That was my mistake. I did not know of your existence."

    The Admiral grabs the suit of armor. He begins attaching it to himself, wrapping it around his chest while allowing its automated actuators to comfortably adjust to his physique.

    The Terran''s eyes glow with deadly intent.

    "This time... I will not fail. You will perish when next we meet, heretic."

    .......................................

    In the skies above Veter, countless 50th and 51st-Era interceptors circle around, performing impossibly tight banks and maneuvers while streams of energy-based projectiles fire from their guns with unerring accuracy. Any flying Buzor in the area explode like grenades, their bodies blown to pieces thanks to the practiced maneuvers of the Kraktol and Kessu pilots.

    Even further above the planet, the Buzor''s bio-ships blare with internal alarms. The Bloodbearer, once thought to have been incapable of detecting them, fires hundreds of artillery cannons toward the Buzor''s troop transports. Despite traveling at relativistic speeds and allowing the Buzor plenty of time to evade, the missiles and smart-rounds possess homing capabilities, causing the Buzor engineers to screech in terror.

    Dozens of bio-ships explode to pieces, spraying blood and gore all across Veter''s orbit. The ships that evade the first salvos still inevitably perish to the second, third, and fourth follow-up attacks.

    [Chrrrrt! The Terran knows! He has detected our presence!] One of the remaining Cantor commanders chitters. [We must leave this planet''s orbit at once!]

    [Belay that order,] A Mitteras commander replies, the drone straightening its posture. [The Dark One has commanded us to delay the Terran while preparing his ultimate weapon.]

    [We cannot trust the Dark One!] The Cantor replies. [Chrrrrt! The Dark One is using us! I have warned you countless times!]

    [Your lack of faith betrays your lack of conviction. My Queen will never make a mistake!] The giant-ant counters. [My Queen has led our kind to glory. Soon, the Mallali shall fall, along with the Avaru and the Rodaks. Buzor-kind will prevail! If we must sacrifice our lives for the sake of our species, then we shall do so with exuberance.]

    [I care not for your hive''s ways!] The giant-centipede chitters. [Your unflinching loyalty to your queen is an act of foolishness! We must return to P-Space before the next attack reaches us!]

    [I command this vessel in my Queen''s name!] The Mitteras commander says, puffing out its thorax. Despite the immense size difference between its body and the thirty-foot-long Cantor, it never reveals a hint of fear. [I will gladly give my life for my Queen!]

    [Chrrrrt! Then you can die in her honor!] The Cantor replies. Immediately, the huge bug lunges toward its smaller prey.

    A war breaks out on the bio-ship''s Bridge as two other nearby Cantor join in, only for them to cry out in pain when more than a hundred Mitteras drones swarm inside. The seemingly unstoppable Cantor find themselves overrun by the Mitteras shock troopers, who bite onto the narrow gaps in their bodies and tear them apart with their talons. While the Cantor easily slaughter several Mitteras drones, they fail to win the engagement, and eventually fall to pieces, devoured and ripped apart by the smaller hiveminds.

    [Selfish individualists,] the still-living Mitteras commander sneers. [The Hive conquers all. The Hive overruns and overtakes. We prevail in our Queen''s name!]

    A minute later, his bio-vessel explodes under a hailstorm of Terran ordinance, joining all of the other destroyed ships in Veter''s orbit.

    ...

    With all of the Buzor shredded, a single Corvette-sized spacecraft circles above Veter''s atmosphere. This vessel, one of only a few-dozen 51st-Era ships that have ever existed, descends toward the ground below. It ignores the war commencing on the planet''s surface, where millions of Buzor flee the wrath of fires spat from above.

    This vessel, the Slipstream, eventually drops toward a seemingly unimportant forest located on one of Veter''s less-inhabited continents. While millions of Varot still live across hundreds of cities and inside many small towns, one particularly dense tree canopy, filled with 500-foot-tall arboreal growths, makes a standard approach nearly impossible.

    Admiral Rodriguez, seated on the Bridge, frowns.

    "This is the place. It seems a lot has changed over the years."

    He wears a highly-advanced Enforcer Battlesuit, one comprised of thin but robust exotic alloys capable of taking a serious beating. Even sturdier than the Admiral''s built-in Dermal Armor, the battlesuit also bears dozens of miniaturized weapons, utility modules, and other such systems designed purely for taking down the greatest threat to the galaxy: the Demon Emperor, Yama.

    "The forest below us did not exist in my era," Jos�� explains to his Bridge crew. These include Soren, Sapphire, and Grundle, as well as a few dozen Kessu. "Rather, the entire area for multiple miles in every direction was once a paved landing zone for spacecraft. Ramma''s Chosen kept the heart of the military operations sequestered deep underground, where even a dedicated orbital bombardment would find it difficult to wipe them all out. If I''ve guessed correctly, Yama is already here, waiting for us. He knows about my people, and therefore, potentially knows about our Rip-Gate and other secret projects."

    "What if he doesn''t, Darling?" Sapphire asks.

    "Well, that''s good for us," Jos�� answers. "It means Ramma''s most essential base hasn''t been taken over by heretics. We''ll likely find all kinds of useful goodies and technology stored underground, though much of it may have deteriorated to the passage of time. But, realistically, I''d guess Yama has raided those coffers already. That''s why, when I eventually leave, you must take care in the future when dealing with the Buzor. P-Space Drives and advanced stealth technology are likely far from the most potent tricks they can unleash."

    The mention of Jos��''s eventual departure casts a damper on everyone''s moods. Sapphire''s expression becomes momentarily despondent as she imagines her beloved Admiral leaving her behind without any hatchlings.

    "Darling..."

    "Don''t think you can convince me otherwise," Jos�� immediately retorts. "I''ve made up my mind. I will only stay in this galaxy until I successfully eradicate Yama, or until he kills me, instead. Either way, once I fulfill my objective, I''ll leave."

    She lowers her head. "I see."

    The Slipstream slowly lowers into the forest canopy. Hundreds of lasers fire from its sides, sweeping outward with scything motions. The Corvette-sized ship rapidly cuts into the undergrowth, scorching, burning, and erasing any trees and other foliage in its wake. It additionally clears a hundred feet of free space around itself for security purposes before dropping to the ground-level.

    Just before landing, Synthmind 4131 beeps a warning. "Admiral Rodriguez. This synthmind has detected an anomalous level of temporal disruptions [FIVE HUNDRED AND SIXTEEN] meters beneath Veter''s soil. Based on conjecture and [THREE THOUSAND NINE HUNDRED AND FOUR] simulated possibilities, I have concluded that someone is currently attempting to activate the Rip-Gate you have come here in pursuit of."

    The Admiral flinches. "What? Damn. I guess that''s that, then. There are no coincidences. Yama does know about the Rip-Gate. He..."

    Jos�� pauses. A strange look appears in his eyes.

    "...could it be?"

    Noticing her Admiral''s strange expression, and having spent years growing accustomed to his mannerisms, Soren glances at him suspiciously. "What''s going on, Jos��? You look as if you''ve seen a ghost."

    The Admiral slowly nods.

    "Something has just occurred to me. Demons cannot utilize technology. There is only one demoness in recorded history who broke that rule, but she was a human-educated aberrant. Despite this limitation, demons can still get other species to manipulate technology for them."

    Grundle stands up from his chair. "Graugh! Admiral, do you mean that Yama has brought some technically-minded slaves along to activate the Rip-Gate on his behalf?"

    "Yes. Specifically, he must still possess some Kessu operatives. Remember, Science Officer Lorrie was just one of many Kessu forced to follow Yama''s orders. He likely still possesses others. The question is... why would he need them to activate the Rip-Gate?"

    "You look as if you have an idea," Soren answers. "But I''m guessing he plans to flee through it to some other galaxy, or timeline, or whatever. Kyargh! I still don''t fully understand how Rip-Gates work."

    "Fleeing would certainly be in Yama''s nature," Jos�� mutters. "But there is another, even more frightening possibility. He may intend to use the gate as a way of bringing other entities to our universe."

    A moment of silence swallows the air. Then, Soren''s expression shifts to alarm.

    "O-other demons! Don''t tell me that wretched monster wishes to summon other Emperors to our reality!"

    "That might just be it," Jos�� growls. "Son of a bitch. I didn''t even think of it before. Why would he wait until now to activate the Rip-Gate? The answer is obvious. He''s had Kessu slaves all along. He could have done so whenever he wanted. However, Yama is a greedy bastard. He''d never want to share this galaxy with another Emperor. He''d only do so if a situation arose out of his control. He''d only do so if a threat appeared. Me."

    The Terran shakes his head wryly. "If I fail to kill Yama, it will truly be the Milky Way''s end. Compared to other Demon Emperors, he''s a simple fellow with glaringly obvious weaknesses. If he were to bring Demon Emperor Bael here, or some other equally powerful monster from the Uprising Era, not even I could save the Sentients of today."

    Immediately, the Admiral spins on his heel. He marches toward the Bridge''s exit while gesturing to his three strongest officers.

    "Come on! We don''t have time to lose!"

    Soren, Sapphire, and Grundle all growl in approval.

    "Yes, Admiral!"

    They quickly follow after him, activating their armor systems along the way. While not quite as powerful as Jos��''s exotic-laced Enforcer Battlesuit, theirs still stand at the apex of the 50th Era''s mightiest infantry warsuits, equipped with many Yama-slaying assault modules.

    The three Kraktol grab energy shotguns and flamethrowers, ideal for spreading light and damage over a wide area, then charge through the Slipstream''s exit ramp to follow their Admiral.

    He, in turn, walks to a certain spot, glances around, and transmits a code over his cerebral comm array.

    Before the Admiral, the ground rumbles violently. A huge chunk of soil slants upward, opening further and further to reveal a set of metallic stairs leading into the planet''s depths. Though pitch-black past a certain point and smelling of stale oxygen, none of his three Kraktol officers wavers.

    Jos��''s expression turns solemn.

    "Yama''s time among the living must immediately come to an end, or our galaxy will soon fall."

 Chapter 74: A Race Against Time

    A deep, dark tunnel stretches out before Admiral Rodriguez and his three Kraktol followers. As they quickly but cautiously step into the underground passageway, the Admiral''s party pauses to turn on the floodlights attached to their armor systems. Despite the tunnel once belonging to Ramma''s Chosen, not a single activation command sent by the Admiral responds to his summons. He fails to turn on the complex''s lights, leaving him and his crocs engulfed in darkness.

    The Admiral turns his head from side to side. Despite the gloom''s seemingly impenetrable nature, he easily adjusts his optical modules, turning the darkness into daylight. Sadly, his Kraktol followers lack such conveniences.

    "I can''t see a damn thing!" Grundle complains. He turns on a wrist-mounted flashlight and aims it down the hallway, yet the beam cuts off after only ten or so feet, leaving the path ahead completely pitch-black. "Graugh! There''s something weird going on here, Admiral."

    "Indeed," Jos�� affirms. "Yama has cast a spell on this complex. He ''solidified'' the darkness, making it much harder for our light to pierce the gloom. Doing so will empower him and his Shades while putting us at a disadvantage."

    "We should pick up some reinforcements before going any further," Sapphire says, as she clutches an energy carbine. "There are only four of us!"

    "I agree with Sapphire," Soren adds. "The last time we faced Yama with too few soldiers, he..."

    "Yes, I am aware of the danger," Jos�� says. "But we must move with haste. Yama has already started activating the Rip-Gate. Calculating the dimensional coordinates for a Warp-Gate is hard enough, but throwing temporal coordinates into the mess increases the complexity tenfold. We only have a few hours before his sick plans bear fruit."

    The Admiral grits his teeth. He quickly begins marching into the darkness, while his Kraktol comrades take up arms behind him and fall into position.

    "Grundle! You will take up the rear. Soren, keep an eye out for corridors and cavities on our left. Sapphire, you focus on the right. I will guide us forward."

    "Okay, Darling," Sapphire says.

    "Alright, Jos��," Soren adds.

    "Yes, Admiral," Grundle finishes.

    Their footsteps move in rhythm. Like the beating of a heart, each stomp of their feet brings them one step closer to Yama''s hiding point, somewhere deep beneath the complex.

    Suddenly, Jos�� pauses. He narrows his eyes and takes aim with his shotgun as a faint, shadowy face appears in the distance.

    "A Shade!"

    The Admiral reaches for the trigger, but doesn''t pull it. He watches, silently, as the Shade merely floats in the darkness, its ethereal body all but impossible to make out.

    "Hehehe. So, you have finally come," The Shade says, her voice seductive and silky.

    The Admiral searches his memories, the ones recorded during his first life.

    "You. I remember your voice. Your name is... Voluptuous. I thought I killed you."

    The Shade doesn''t react to his provocation. "You tried. You killed many of my sisters. But that was fine by me. We all compete for Master Yama''s affection. The fewer competitors I have, the fewer the barriers blocking my path to my beloved."

    The Admiral''s eye twitches. "You''re brainwashed. I pity you. You were once a woman, free of sin. Now, that monster has corrupted you. You''ve become nothing more than a heretic''s whore."

    "You zealots all say the same things; repeat the same lines. Don''t you ever tire of your boring life? Cast aside your prejudice. Join me, and I will make you feel exquisite pleasure."

    The Terran snorts. "Any emotions you could give me would only be the product of brainwashing. But don''t worry, I hold no quarrel with the poor women Yama has defiled. I will execute you without any hatred."

    The Shade smirks. "I came to give you a message. My master wishes to inform you of a certain... tidbit."

    Jos�� narrows his eyes. "And that would be?"

    "You have forced his hand," Voluptuous says, her face contorting into a demonic look of rage. "Master Yama intended to slowly take this galaxy over, planet by planet, star by star. Now, because you have chosen to confront him, he will unleash Hell upon you. Come to us if you dare, fleshbag. You will meet your end."

    BLAM!

    Jos�� fires a spray of projectiles from his proton-shotgun, but before they can connect with Voluptuous, she explodes into smoke and vanishes into the darkness. Jos��''s bullets harmlessly whiff past where her face previously hovered, then disappear into the shadows.

    Sapphire shudders. "D-Darling... that woman was... she was so frightening! Are all Shades like that?!"

    "Her demonic aura is what''s causing you that feeling of terror," Jos�� explains. "You''ll get used to it, given time. Now, come. That woman came to slow us down. Yama must have only started calculating the Rip-Gate''s coordinates a short while ago. We can still stop him if we hurry!"

    This time, the Terran charges into the darkness, tripling his previous speed. He races down the secret hallway toward its exit, where he finds a blast door sealed shut, all of its locking mechanisms frozen in place.

    The Kraktol gasp in dismay, realizing it will take them hours to bypass the hardened barrier. Even a high-yield explosive charge might not dent it, let alone the weaponry they brought along.

    Before anyone can ask the Admiral what they should do...

    Foop!

    The Admiral vanishes! He teleports past the door to the other side. The faint sounds of gunshots and pain-filled screams barely worm their way through the blast doors, causing Sapphire to gasp in fright.

    "D-Darling! He''s fighting in there! We have to help him!"

    "We can''t," Soren says, clearly annoyed by that fact. "We have to wait!"

    Minutes later, the sounds of struggle stop. The seemingly impassable door hisses open, and Jos�� strides through, his armor soaked in blood.

    "Sorry. I had to deal with some hostiles," Jos�� says nonchalantly.

    The Kraktol walk past the blast-door, where they find more than two hundred Buzor laying in a T-shaped hallway, their bodies riddled with holes, their carapaces broken, and their heads crushed. The gruesome sight doesn''t affect anyone, beyond making them glance at their Admiral with even more admiration than before.

    This time, the Buzor lurking underground consist of heavily armed cockroaches, beetles, and praying mantises. They all wield the same technology they did on Tarus II, making the Admiral''s crew come to an important realization.

    "The Buzor are trying to keep their technological capabilities a secret," Soren says. "They only ever bring out guns and weapons when the other Sentients aren''t looking."

    "That''s right," Jos�� affirms. "They''re sneaky little bug-bastards."

    His group pauses only long enough for Jos�� to confirm their position before turning and walking down the corridor to the right. They encounter many groups of Buzor along the way, each one fighting like hell to slow them down.

    [Filthy Kraktol! Vile Terran! You cannot stop the Dark One''s ascension! We will give our lives to protect him!]

    Two dozen huge cockroaches charge at Jos��''s group, simultaneously disgusting and annoying them.

    "Bug off!" Jos�� roars, as he unloads multiple shots into their bodies. His Officers follow up, blasting the heads off the roaches, while Grundle takes to melee combat, whipping out a huge vibro-axe to chop through anything organic in his path.

    "Bahaha!" Grundle laughs. "You are nothing before my Admiral! You are nothing before ME!"

    The Buzor fire deadly 30th-Era lasers at Grundle, but his 50th-Era armor shrugs them off as if they were nothing more than mere paintballs. He beheads all the giant bugs in his path, and severs their bodies in half afterward, making sure to finish the job.

    "Let''s go!" Jos�� yells.

    The Kraktol rush through countless advanced underground facilities, all teeming with Buzor from top to bottom. They sweep through a cloning facility, one which does not appear as broken and dilapidated as those they''ve heard of from the past always were. They fight their way into a Firing Range, its pitch-black and lights-off atmosphere weighing upon them oppressively, while Buzor hide behind various makeshift barriers to take potshots at the Admiral and his crew.

    Sapphire does not wield a shotgun. Instead, she snipes the trickiest targets with her carbine, those who only poke out their heads or individual limbs. While Jos�� and Grundle serve as the brawn and Soren the brains, Sapphire strategizes about which enemies will take the longest to kill. Then, she slaughters them mercilessly.

    Science Labs, crew quarters, lounges, and holodecks. The Terran and his comrades fight through five levels of the Ramaldius complex. The deeper they dive, the more oppressive Yama''s dark magic becomes. Soon, Shades join in with the Buzor, pouncing at the Kraktol from the shadows.

    "Eat shit!" Jos�� roars, as he fires a spray of energized bullets at one of Yama''s harlots. The woman screeches in agony as the white-hot bullets burn her soul, but she retreats into the darkness, managing to preserve her life.

    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    "You will never kill our master!" The Shade hisses.

    "Ramma''s Chosen won''t stop until we fulfill their mission!" Jos�� barks back.

    Like this, over an hour passes. During a moment of reprieve, Jos�� transmits a signal out of the base to the Bloodbearer in orbit.

    "Umi, I need you to make some contingency plans," Jos�� says. "I still have confidence we can stop Yama. However, if I fail, I expect you to shit fire and fury on this bunker. Even if it kills me, you''d better goddamn well irradiate my position and destroy whatever the hell Yama brings out, along with the Shadow Emperor himself. You got that?"

    The Admiral pauses. He waits for confirmation, yet receives no reply.

    "Umi? Hello? Umi? Respond."

    Still, the synthmind says nothing.

    Frowning, Jos�� changes his tact.

    "Synthmind 4131. Respond."

    Seconds pass, yet the Slipstream''s synthmind also remains uncharacteristically silent.

    "What in Ramma''s name...?" Jos�� mutters. He pulls up his neural link''s software to perform a dozen diagnostic scans. However, he doesn''t find anything out of the ordinary.

    "Is something wrong?" Soren asks. She takes cover behind a desk while she and the other Kraktol wait to see why their Admiral has paused his advance.

    "It''s... I don''t know," Jos�� says. "I''ve lost contact with the Bloodbearer. The enemy might be jamming us, but I can''t detect any interference."

    "Are we too deep underground?" Sapphire asks.

    "No. 50th-Era communication technology isn''t easy to censor, especially for this primitive galaxy. Ten thousand meters of planet soil wouldn''t block my communicator, let alone fewer than one hundred. We still have a long way to go before we reach the Rip-Gate..."

    The Admiral hesitates. A strange look enters his eyes.

    "Wait. That might be it."

    He switches his cerebral implants to a high-frequency scanning mode, then sweeps his eyes around in a wide circle.

    "Damn!"

    "What is it?" Sapphire asks, clearly alarmed. "Is something wrong? Are we in danger, Darling?!"

    "Not quite, but the situation isn''t good," Jos�� growls. "That fucking moron, Yama! I bet his Kessu slaves don''t have a goddamn clue how to properly activate the Rip-Gate! They''ve bungled its temporal calculations... or something! I''ve detected unstable pulses of temporal activity. My implants weren''t calibrated to deal with that sort of interference, so it''s no wonder I can''t communicate with the Bloodbearer."

    The Admiral pauses. He glances back at the Kraktol, as if waging a war within his mind.

    "...Sapphire, Grundle! I want the two of you to return to the surface. Contact Umi and give her my orders. If I fail to stop Yama, then Umi must, at all costs, destroy this facility, along with the Shadow Emperor and whatever he intends to bring to our universe."

    Sapphire shakes her head. "Kyargh! No, Darling! We can''t do that! There are already only four of us! If you and Soren go alone, you won''t be able to stop Yama by yourselves, let alone all his Buzor minions! You need us to help you!"

    "I would prefer to send you back to the surface alone," Jos�� says to Sapphire, "but I worry you won''t make it there by yourself. Grundle can protect you from any Shades and Buzor you might encounter along the way. I''ll need Soren''s help to disable the Rip-Gate. So, just go! I''ve prepared myself to face Yama alone. As long as I have Soren with me, my odds of success are doubled!"

    "But they could be quadrupled!" Sapphire protests. "We have to come with you!"

    "I agree, graugh!" Grundle chuffs. "I cannot leave you by yourself, Admiral. I swore to protect you with my life!"

    "We''ll need all the help we can get," Soren chimes in. "Frankly, I don''t think you and I can fight our way to Yama''s hidey-hole by ourselves. This is no time for bravado, Jos��."

    The Admiral doubles down. "You don''t get it! I can''t send an order to Umi! If Yama succeeds, he could summon another Demon Emperor to this world. He could summon multiple! If that happens, they might capture me. Umi''s current prime directive is to preserve my life at all costs. I must ensure she disregards that directive, so long as it means exterminating the Demon Emperors! If Sapphire and Grundle don''t pass my message along, the Emperors will be able to use my life as leverage against her!"

    This time, Jos��''s words have an immediate effect. Having spent five years in simulations, fighting against authentic recreations of Demon Emperors on the holodeck, all of the Kraktol know just how terrifying any one of them can be, especially compared to the much weaker Yama.

    Soren lowers her voice. "I..."

    "That was a direct order," Jos�� barks, pointing his words at Sapphire and Grundle. "Get to the surface! Once you deliver my message, you can make your way back down here! All you''ll have to do is follow the trail of dead Buzor to find me."

    Grundle glances at Sapphire. She meets his gaze.

    "We... we shouldn''t..." Sapphire mumbles.

    "Graugh! I swore to protect the Admiral..." Grundle replies. "But I also swore to follow his orders. Let''s go! I''ll get us topside, then we''ll immediately head back down. Won''t take us long, not now that we''ve mopped up the Buzor in our path!"

    Sapphire appears unwilling. However, with Grundle''s conviction hardened, she merely sighs.

    "Fine! Darling, don''t you dare die on me! If you fall, I swear... I''ll cut out my heart and dive into the Forbidden Swamp with you!"

    "You don''t need to be so melodramatic," Jos�� retorts. "I''m eighty percent confident I''ll survive, but only if you hurry up and get that tail moving. Now, hurry up!"

    Sapphire shoots her Darling one last look before rushing away. She and Grundle depart, zipping away like the wind thanks to their battle-armor.

    "We need to move faster," Jos�� says to Soren. "I know a few shortcuts through this base. Follow me."

    "Alright." Soren replies.

    ...

    The two of them continue onward. They meet heavier resistance the deeper they travel, but thanks to their crushing advantages in armor and weaponry, they easily blast through any blockades the Buzor set up.

    The two of them eventually arrive inside a drone construction workshop, one that Ramma''s Chosen used in the past to craft autonomous war machines. Before entering the room, Jos�� pauses.

    "Fuck."

    Soren glances at the words inscribed above the doorway, easily parsing them thanks to her years working for the Admiral. "Jos��?"

    "The Buzor, or rather, their Kessu slaves, have activated multiple robots inside this workshop. Brace yourself. They won''t be pushovers like we''ve fought up to now, but 50th-Era killing machines. The fact they haven''t come for us likely means only their weapons systems are online and not their mobility modules, but still... they''ll punch through our armor with ease."

    "How do we slip past them?" Soren asks.

    "Simple. I''ll act as a distraction to confuse their targeting modules. In the meantime, you sneak around to their flanks and disable them."

    "Kyargh! I can do that."

    Unified in their thoughts, the Terran and his First Officer burst into the room. Jos�� immediately picks out the glint of blood-red iris-targeting modules in the darkness a split-second before a volley of high-caliber gunfire rains on his position. He teleports to the side and shoots back, attempting to blast apart anything that will stop his attackers from firing.

    He fails to stop the robots, but succeeds in forcing their threat systems to target him. While the Terran teleports to the ceiling and walls, flickering around to keep the robots guessing, his First Officer sneaks through the darkness, activating a limited-stealth function on her suit. Despite its charge only lasting a minute or two, and its stealth functionality only providing electronic disruption to the drones which might target her, she still succeeds in reaching a control panel in the rear.

    When she arrives, Soren curses as a pair of giant praying mantises equipped with highly-advanced Terran armor pounce at her from the darkness. These two Mentii warriors chitter angrily while stabbing at her with their claws. Their blade-like arms, coated with exotic Terran alloys, carve up the floor where Soren stood a moment before, turning her blood to ice.

    These Mentii are elites! She realizes. They''re much stronger than the others we fought before!

    A game of cat and mouse ensues. Soren ducks and dodges while the predators pursue her. They slash at her figure, missing each time, but coming close enough to frighten the Bloodbearer''s First Officer. Multiple times, the Mentii elites tear through control panels in their path, rip apart hardened metal containers filled with random scrap, and gouge huge lines in the walls.

    While a perfectly competent soldier, Soren isn''t nearly as adept at melee and infantry warfare as Grundle and Sapphire. She typically relies on her brain to solve problems, but the Mentii don''t give her even a second to think.

    [You fell for our trap!] One of the elites taunts. [Your Admiral is too occupied to save you! You cannot defeat us! We are both sons of the Lothrath!]

    Soren doesn''t reply. With all of her attention focused on evading the Mentii''s attacks, she can''t spare a moment to swap barbs with them.

    Think, Soren, think! She howls internally. I need to get an advantage! I need to put some distance between myself and these bastards!

    After a full minute of retreating, Soren finally gets a split-second of breathing room. She raises her gun to shoot the closest Mentii elite, only for the other one to pop up beside her and slash at her gun.

    Rip!

    The weapon falls in half, easily sliced apart by the Mentii''s lethally sharp blade-arm.

    "Ah!" Soren yelps, momentarily frightened. She stumbles backward and falls on her ass, allowing the Mentii to chitter and pounce on her.

    [DIE!]

    At the last second, Soren uses her tail to throw herself to the side. However, in doing so, she exposes her flank.

    Skriiik!

    "AIIIEEE!" Soren shrieks.

    Without hesitation, despite fumbling its killing blow, the Mentii succeeds in slicing Soren''s tail off her rump. The robust armor system enveloping it provides no protection against the huge mantis''s blade-limb. It drops to the ground and flops around reflexively for a few seconds, while blood spurs from the freshly opened wound on Soren''s rear.

    "Soren!" Jos�� calls, as he recognizes it has taken longer than he anticipated for her to finish her job. "What''s going on? SHIT!"

    The Admiral finally spots the commotion happening behind the drones. However, with the automated defenders constantly unloading armor-piercing rounds on his position, he doesn''t dare jump to Soren''s side, lest he draw fire upon her, too.

    The Admiral''s mind, enhanced by the peak of 50th-Era cerebral augmentations, works in hypertime, allowing him to rapidly compute ten thousand battle possibilities.

    Teleport north by northwest. Sabotage power lines A3 and A7. Failure. Will not stop enough power flow to the drones.

    Teleport north by northeast. Grab heavy exotic container. Throw toward drones as a distraction. Teleport to Soren''s side. Failure. The drones will immediately recalibrate, and the containers will provide little protection.

    His eyes move from left to right, picking out dozens of potential routes he can use to rescue Soren, all while calculating probability vectors and each route''s odds of success.

    In the blink of an eye, he chooses one potential option. He teleports directly above one of the automated drones, pulls out a pair of explosive charges, then slaps them against the ceiling. He teleports to a gigantic shipping container, grabs it with one hand, and performs an Olympian-level throw toward one of the Mentii elites.

    "Hey, heretic! Here''s a present!"

    The Mentii elite flicks its eyes toward the Terran. Despite its superior warrior physiology, enhanced by Yama''s magic, it only gets a split-second to react to the twenty-ton, fifty-foot-long container flying at its face.

    BOOM!!

    The container crashes against the Mentii, splattering it against the wall and crushing it like a bug.

    However, the Mentii chasing Soren still remains within arm''s reach. It slashes at Soren, causing her to scream in pain as she barely dodges a lethal attack. The Mentii severs her right arm from her shoulder, spraying blood across the deck.

    Reflexively, Soren kicks her leg upward.

    THUNK!

    The Mentii doesn''t see her kick coming. She makes contact with the bug''s thorax, sending it hurtling straight upward! With her body''s might greatly enhanced by her Terran combat armor, she outputs a superhuman level of strength, making each kick hit like a truck.

    The Mentii elite crashes against the ceiling and drags along its perimeter for a split second, only to coincidentally end up within a hundred feet of Jos��''s planted charges.

    THOOM.

    The charges explode, blasting the Mentii elite to shreds while raining more than two hundred tons of debris onto one of the six drones. The automated robot instantly collapses under the tremendous weight, while the others continue firing upon the Admiral.

    Soren grits her teeth. Her eyes turn foggy as waves of pain and nausea roil her stomach.

    "H-hurts... hurts..."

    She fumbles with her left arm, trying to stop the ceaseless flow of blood from her right shoulder.

    [Severe bodily trauma detected,] A bland, automated male voice says from within her suit. [Applying emergency field treatments.]

    Icy cryo-fluid pours from the severed sections of Soren''s suit onto her amputated tail and arm. She weakly whimpers in pain as all the breath escapes from her body.

    "Nnn... nnn..."

    Moments later, Soren falls unconscious, unable to wake herself after suffering such a traumatic injury.

    Jos��, left alone, grits his teeth.

    "She''s alive. That''s what matters. I can regenerate her missing limb later. For now, I have to break these last five drones!"

    In the back of his mind, the Terran continues to count the time. Every minute he spends fighting Yama''s minions gives the Demon Emperor more time to finish his evil plan.

    In the worst case scenario... the Admiral may even have to give his life to stop his most hated adversary from succeeding.

    Such are the lengths the galaxy''s unnamed savior will go to.

 Chapter 75: A Mothers Love

    Elsewhere in the Milky Way.

    A trident-shaped spaceship slowly descends through the atmosphere of a water-covered planet, one with less than five percent of its land resting above sea level. The vessel drops down into a private hangar, where the roof closes upon its arrival, sealing it inside.

    Minutes later, an entry ramp slides down from the ship''s front, as if the spacecraft were a monster sticking out its tongue.

    Solemnly, dozens of Kraktol elites begin exiting in pairs, all of them wearing looks of regret or acceptance. Having made an important decision two weeks earlier, they have all resolved themselves to accept the consequences of their choices. Among them is Megla Brighteye, former First Officer serving the legendary Terran, though she only appears as one inconsequential face among all the others.

    After a couple hundred of the Kraktol exit the ramp, they split into two halves and line up on the left and right side of the ship, standing at attention to await the departure of their final two occupants.

    Kisa Kindris, the Kraktol''s Malvik, walks in front of a levitating coffin. Her expression, though solemn, doesn''t appear cracked or weakened due to the stress and anguish she''s suffered. Instead, a tentative look of steel rests in her eyes.

    The coffin behind her, bearing the body of her father, Lord Drall, stops at the bottom of the ramp. Kisa continues walking forward until she arrives before a group of fifty other Kraktol, chief among them, the Th��lvik herself, Loreen Kindris.

    Kisa slows to a stop. She closes her eyes and bows her head.

    "...Mother. I have returned."

    Loreen stands with her claws somberly folded in front of her stomach. She wears a thin, flowery white robe, one that accentuates her feminine features.

    "Kyargh. Little Kisa. You have endured well. Help me dispatch your father to the Forbidden Swamp. Then... we shall talk."

    Kisa lifts her head.

    "Yes."

    ...

    An hour later, the Th��lvik gives a rousing speech to all of the citizens of Dragua. She pours her heart out, speaking of the love she bore for Lord Drall, and the wonderful gift he gave her, in the form of her daughter, Kisa.

    Kisa, meanwhile, stands beside her mother, stone-faced, revealing not a trace of emotion.

    After the formalities conclude, the two of them depart. They return to Loreen''s castle, her home where she has lived for thousands of years. Along the way, Loreen and Kisa remain oddly silent. The Th��lvik and Malvik exchange only a few perfunctory words as they sit beside each other at a relatively small table. There, a simple meal waits, with half of it consisting of meat, and the other half... vegetables.

    Loreen places herself at the head of the table, while Kisa sits at the chair on her right. They both remain silent, until the servants have left.

    Once they find themselves alone, Loreen exhales.

    "My poor, sweet daughter. I am so sorry for the suffering you''ve endured."

    Kisa shakes her head. She avoids making eye contact with her mother, opting instead to gaze stonily at the table.

    "I couldn''t save him. I couldn''t save my own father."

    Loreen nods. "But you tried, and that is what matters. The reports from Drall''s crew have spoken of your bravery in those final moments. I''m... I''m proud of you, Kisa."

    Kisa flinches. After a momentary pause, she glances at her mother.

    "What?"

    Loreen''s typical expression, that of animosity and resentment, is nowhere to be seen. Instead, she smiles lovingly, like a parent finally proud of her child''s accomplishments.

    "You don''t have to feel ashamed, Kisa. What you did was honorable. Every loyal Kraktol who returned with you spoke of the ''glow'' you emanated as you rushed to Drall''s side. You struck down fifteen traitors and twenty Kessu before they could react. All this time, your mental fragility has held you back. But now, your father can rest easy, knowing his daughter will someday make for a fine Th��lvik."

    The more Loreen speaks, the greater Kisa''s confusion becomes.

    "Who... who said I did that? I... I didn''t do anything of the sort!"

    Loreen looks away from Kisa, toward a painting on the wall of another female Kraktol, one who appears aged, yet beautiful.

    "I remember my first kill," Loreen says, ignoring Kisa''s protests. "Your grandmother was just as strict on me as I''ve been with you. I''ll admit, I wasn''t quite as soft-scaled as your past self, but I still lived in opulence and luxury. She forced me to live with this... this wretched male. He would insult me every day. He would call me fat, ugly, and a bad swimmer, too. Your grandmother only had one order for me, and that was... ''endure it.'' I tried to follow her commands, but the bastard truly angered me with his vile, unspeakable insults."

    Loreen smiles evilly. "Well. Finally, one day, I snapped. I pounced on him and bit down on his throat. I gouged out his eyes, stabbed his heart, and savaged him brutally. Hahaha! What great fun. What a wonderful thrill!"

    She pauses for a moment before continuing.

    "Immediately afterward, once the adrenaline wore off, a deep-seated fear took over. I began to shake and tremble, realizing I had broken my mother''s order. I feared what she would do to me. The male she sent to harass me was not some random nobody, but an important bed-fellow of hers, someone she seemed to care a good deal about. Within an hour, she found out about his death. She roared to the skies and demanded I prostrate myself before her."

    "I was terror-stricken, but in the end, I realized I had no choice except to comply," Loreen continues. "Oh, the look on your grandmother''s face. She kept up the act until the very end. She spoke as if I had broken a terrible taboo. She howled about my eventual drowning in the Forbidden Swamp and how the sins of the daughter must fall upon the mother''s shoulders. Then, as I was about to crack, she paused and... she began to laugh."

    Loreen''s eyes glaze over, as a silly smile crosses her face. "Haha. That old Rodak. She made a fool of me and had a good laugh at my expense. It turned out she never cared one lick for the male I killed. She merely showered him with affection as part of her ultimate plan to turn him into my sharpening stone. The fact that I killed him and reveled in his death shattered my mental constraints. I became the battle-hardened Rodak you know today, and the rest was history."

    After a moment, Loreen turns to look at Kisa. "Oh, and of course, I eventually killed your grandmother. Never did like that damned F��th. She always got on my nerves and laughed at my expense. I couldn''t have her making a mockery of my rule after I took over. You know how it is."

    Kisa stares blankly at her mother. The sheer impact of Loreen speaking so casually and frankly completely catches Kisa offguard. Never, in all Kisa''s life, has Loreen spoken to her in such simple and direct words as at this moment.

    "I... but I... I didn''t..."

    "There''s no denying the truth." Loreen says.

    The Th��lvik stands up from her seat and leans toward Kisa, making the young Kraktol flinch. Before Kisa can react, Loreen gently presses her hands against the back of Kisa''s head. She strokes her daughter''s scales while smiling with warm, motherly affection.

    "I''m so proud of you," Loreen whispers. "I worried that someday, when my end came, I would not leave our people a worthy successor. But now, you''ve proven me wrong. You have turned yourself into a wonderful Malvik."

    Loreen gently caresses her daughter, while Kisa sits limp in her seat, uncertain of whether she should make any attempts to mimic her mother''s affection. Even as a child, Loreen never showed any desire to initiate physical contact.

    "Mother..."

    Tears well up in Kisa''s eyes. He quickly wipes them away and averts her gaze, uncertain what to say.

    "You didn''t save Drall, no," Loreen says. "But like me, your father lived a long and storied life. All tales must eventually come to an end. Sapphire''s traitorous actions beget your honorable ones. Even Megla came around to our way of thinking. She witnessed the brutality of the Precursor''s teachings, along with his treachery. She made her stance clear, as did you. I am certain your father will be able to swim comfortably within the Forbidden Swamp now that you have eased his worries."

    Perhaps sensing her daughter''s discomfort at the unexpected physical contact, Loreen pulls away. She stands next to Kisa, gazing at her little girl with adoration.

    "Mother..." Kisa says. "The Precursor... Admiral Rodriguez... this wasn''t his fault. You can''t blame him for what happened!"

    "Perhaps not," Loreen replies. "After all, Sapphire and Soren are the ones who instigated your father''s death. The Terran did not engage in the violence. However, can you really say he had nothing to do with what happened?"

    Kisa pauses. Memories of her time spent with the Admiral surface in her mind.

    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    "He... he is a good man. He never wanted our people to come to blows."

    Loreen clicks her tongue. "Tsk."

    The Th��lvik takes a seat once again. She tosses a fish-like creature into her mouth before swallowing it whole.

    "You have taken the first step toward becoming a worthy Th��lvik, my dear daughter. Sadly, you still have much to learn. The words others speak do not always line up with their thoughts or actions. This Terran is a crafty one; a slippery individual. Think of all the training he put you through, as well as the rest of your brothers and sisters. Now, recall how many of our people joined him after Sapphire''s bloody betrayal. What changed? Why would my loyal subjects turn against me, even after witnessing direct evidence of the Terran''s machinations?"

    Loreen doesn''t wait for Kisa to reply. "The answer is simple. He is an unscrupulous Mallali, like all the rest. He worms his way into the hearts of others with beautiful, flowery words. Then, once he has driven a wedge between brothers, he turns them on each other. Doesn''t that best describe the events you witnessed with your own eyes? Or, have I perhaps misinterpreted the situation to make him appear worse than he really is?"

    The Malvik hesitates, unsure of what she can say to change her mother''s mind.

    "...Admiral Rodriguez. He... he treated me well. He even ate vegetables with me."

    "Ah, so he took the liberty of befriending the future Kraktol leader," Loreen says cynically. "What a magnanimous fellow. I am certain he spoke kindly to you purely out of the goodness of his heart."

    The Th��lvik''s words burrow into Kisa''s ears, making her second-guess all of her interactions with Admiral Rodriguez.

    "Do... do you truly think he only acted nice to me because of my status?"

    Loreen nods. "Of course. I''m sorry to burst your bubble, daughter dearest, but that is how all the Mallali function. They smile and act like wonderful Sentients, while secretly unsheathing their claws when you turn your back. Have you forgotten? Admiral Rodriguez is just as warm-blooded as all of our blood-enemies. He is a Mallali to his core."

    Doubt chews at the back of Kisa''s mind. "B-but! Kyargh! Mother, he treated every single Kraktol and Kessu equally! He always tried to settle disputes, he never rushed to anger... he is a good man!"

    "Doubt still clouds your mind," Loreen says, softening her tone. "I, too, once became fooled by the kindness of a Mallali. When I was but a young Th��lvik, newly ascended to the throne, the Alfras himself suckered me into accepting a terrible trade policy. He played the role of my best friend. He spoke of the great deal he was giving me, and I ignorantly fell for his cloying words. In the end, that trade ended up being a good thing for our people, but only because of luck. Discovering a secret Precursor ship-construction facility in the Rylon system was an accident that has empowered us in the long-term. However, had we not uncovered Rylon''s hidden installation, we would have suffered tremendously over the years."

    With a long sigh, Loreen tilts her head to look at the ceiling. "In time, you will understand, Kisa. The Sapphire I knew would never have turned against her beloved father. What else could corrupt someone''s essence so abruptly except lies and deception? Can you honestly say that the Terran''s philosophies didn''t alter her mind? Clearly, he used ancient Terran wordplay to turn my children away from me."

    Kisa''s resolve weakens. "Maybe... maybe you''re right, mother. Maybe I was wrong about him."

    "You still doubt me in your heart," Loreen sighs. "Will you turn against me, too? Will you join the Terran to plunge your talons into your mother''s back? I must admit, such a fate would prove quite ironic, after how I slew your grandmother. Perhaps following him would lead the Kraktol to a brighter future. Perhaps killing me would grant all the Kraktol a new lease on life. In truth, I have not performed as well as the previous Th��lvik. Were it not for the lucky break of discovering Rylon''s Precursor facilities, our people would have fallen destitute."

    "I won''t turn against you!" Kisa declares, looking at her mother with horror. "I love you, mother! You... you''ve been strict on me, it''s true... but everything you did was for my own good! I... I even... k-killed all those t-traitors and Kessu... I did it because of your strict training!"

    Loreen lowers her gaze to look into her daughter''s eyes.

    "Good. That is good. Kyargh! If you do turn against me, then know that I will die proud of you, just as your grandmother felt toward me. We are Kraktol. I am the Th��lvik, just as you will someday be. We do not seek to enrich ourselves, but to ensure the continuation of our species. Vicious, silver-beaked Avaru surround us. Monstrous Buzor, traitorous Rodaks, and most importantly, the filthy Mallali. Never forget the atrocities they have committed. Never forgive them for what they''ve done. So long as you move on from my failings, our people will walk toward a bright and beautiful future."

    Kisa nods slowly. "Yes, mother."

    Satisfied that her speech has had some effect, Loreen loosens up.

    "I''ve read the reports about what happened. I know that the Terran put you and the others through specialized training. I also know that he needed to do so for the sake of fighting a... a dey-munn? I understand the gist of the story, but I''d like to hear more from your perspective. Would you be so kind as to tell me what happened in your own words, Kisa?"

    The Malvik gathers her thoughts. "Ah. Admiral Rodriguez spoke about the demon a lot. His name is Yama. We didn''t succeed in killing him. He''s some sort of... weird... shadow-monster... thing."

    The young Kraktol struggles to elucidate her thoughts. She speaks haltingly, clearly nervous about reciting what happened.

    Even so, the looks of warmth Loreen gives Kisa slowly begins to thaw her heart. The young girl feels more and more at ease with the new way Loreen has been treating her. Compared to all the years she suffered under her mother''s cruel tongue-lashings, Kisa greatly enjoys the improvement in their relationship.

    The thought of going along with whatever story the other Kraktol gave her mother bothers Kisa. She ponders silently in the back of her mind whether she should set the record straight. However, finally enjoying the warmth of her mother''s love eventually overpowers any notion of telling the truth that Kisa might attempt.

    After twenty minutes of explaining what happened during the mission, Kisa reaches the end.

    "That''s... that''s when Sapphire turned against us. I couldn''t believe her attitude. I couldn''t believe she would be the one to kill our father."

    Loreen nods. "And that is why you exploded in rage and killed so many traitors. Yes, I understand the situation much more clearly now. The Terran''s tongue is a weapon of mass destruction. I always assumed the Precursors were mere brutes capable only of wielding their fists like bludgeons. Yet now I know, after comparing the events leading up to Drall''s death with those involving Orgon... the Terran is truly a dangerous adversary."

    The Th��lvik tosses a small, squid-like creature into her mouth.

    "His actions are careful, deliberate, and meticulous. He plays the role of a uniting savior, yet in the end, his every action sows division. From a surface level, killing only Orgon while sparing the rest of the crew seemed merciful. Yet in reality, the Terran managed to scare us into trying to befriend him. Look at what he gained: Hundreds of loyal crew willing to give their lives for him. They think of him as their savior, but in reality, he has corrupted their beliefs."

    Kisa''s expression turns stony. "When you put it that way..."

    "Were it not for the Terran, your father would still be alive," Loreen concludes. "Naturally, since Sapphire dealt the killing blow, her punishment will be the greatest. But you must remember who changed her. The Terran is our enemy."

    Kisa fidgets uncomfortably. "Mother. What of the Buzor invasion? Admiral Rodriguez warned us about their plans. We even know about their Warp-Gates. Are we going to leave them alone?"

    "No." Loreen immediately replies. "After I finish the matters involving Drall''s funeral, I will be taking my leave. I am going to bring a fleet of our finest war-ships to assist the Mallali. If the Kraktol do not intervene in this conflict, the Mallali will swiftly mop up the Buzor and seize control of the Warp-Gates. By shoving my snout into their conflict, I will procure many benefits for our people. Perhaps I may even obtain the rights to access the Buzor''s Warp-Gates. I cannot allow the Mallali to monopolize them, or else their grip over the Milky Way will become unbreakable."

    The young Malvik contemplates her mother''s words. "I see. May I go? I would like to help you, mother."

    Loreen pauses her eating. She glances at Kisa with a glint in her eye.

    "Oh? You''ve never shown such initiative before. Perhaps what happened in those caves changed you more than I expected."

    "Yes. It did..." Kisa mutters. For the first time since arriving back on Dragua, she speaks the truth from her heart. "I realized many things, back then. You''ve also convinced me to rethink my past naivete. I can''t stay a helpless little hatchling forever."

    "Excellent!" Loreen croaks. "Kyargh! I love that you have grown more bold! However, I must decline your request. You will remain here on Dragua. It is never smart to place the current and future leaders of our people in one place, at least, not outside of our fortified homeworld. What if the Mallali backstab us? They could cut off the heads of our lineage in one fell swoop. I will go, and you will stay. My decision is final."

    Kisa stays silent for a moment before nodding.

    "Very well, mother."

    Loreen blinks. "That''s it? Aren''t you going to argue with me to let you go? Are you the same child who left me months ago, or has the Terran swapped your body with a clone?"

    Kisa shakes her head. "It isn''t like that, mother. I just... I regret my past actions. I have acted childishly. I always tried to play the role of a pacifist. I even shunned meat, thinking only of how ''cruel'' eating a corpse was. Stupid. Stupid! If I had just acted a little more decisively, father wouldn''t have died."

    "Perhaps not..." Loreen affirms. She reaches toward one of the plates on the table, one sporting a red-colored leafy vegetable, vaguely resembling a cabbage. "But there is no reason to punish yourself anymore. You may eat all the vegetables you want. Look! I even laid out a spread for you. I wasn''t sure which ones you would like, so I... Kisa?"

    The Th��lvik pauses mid-sentence when she spots tears welling up in her daughter''s eyes.

    "Is something the matter?" Loreen asks. "You may eat these vegetables as much as you desire. Do not hold back on my account. I have decided that, though odd, your dietary needs are perfectly valid. You don''t need to beat yourself up over something so insignificant."

    Kisa grits her teeth. She snarls angrily. "It''s not that! It doesn''t have anything to do with... with all that garbage! Kyargh! I''ve always been so spoiled and selfish! If I hadn''t fallen for the Admiral''s lies and smooth words, I could have saved my father! It''s all because I was too weak!"

    Suddenly, Kisa rises from her chair. She sweeps her arms out and flings aside a dozen plates and bowls, all filled with fruits and vegetables. The plates break against the wall, spraying their contents across the floor.

    "GARBAGE! I am a Kraktol! I''m not some... some weak little Mallali herbivore! How can I desecrate our people''s reputation by snacking on grass and leaves?!"

    The Malvik lunges her claws out. She grabs hold of a raw chunk of bloody meat, something resembling an undercooked steak. She lifts it to her face, only to hesitate.

    "I... I can do this..." Kisa whispers.

    Loreen remains seated. Her eyes narrow to slits as she gazes at her daughter.

    "Yes, you can. Whether you eat meat or vegetables, I care not. Just make sure you stay true to your heart, precious daughter."

    Kisa gazes at the hunk of flesh. Red liquid drips from one of its sagging edges, plopping onto the table silently.

    "I... I am no herbivore! I am... I am a carnivore! A meat-eater! Just like my mother and father! I can do this!"

    Having never eaten meat in her whole life, Kisa hesitates not only due to her long-held ethical feelings, but also her complete lack of experience with its texture, smell, and taste. The Malvik cautiously sniffs the lump of flesh, expecting to feel nausea boiling within her gut.

    Instead, with her concentration at its highest, a sense of euphoria claws onto her mind. Like a man dying of thirst in the desert, Kisa unexpectedly finds that the meat carries a scent of a distant oasis, something she''s missed out on for her whole life, yet never realized she wanted.

    "This... meat... it smells..."

    She pauses, her eyes dilating from hunger.

    "...GOOD! IT SMELLS GOOD!"

    The Malvik doesn''t hesitate any longer. She throws the meat into her mouth, sloshing it around on her tongue as she savors its raw, bitter taste.

    "Aargh! Kyargh! Delicious! Tasty! How can meat taste so good?! How have I foolishly cast such wonderful food aside my whole life? I was a fool! An idiot!"

    As if suffering from decades of ravenous hunger, Kisa descends upon the table''s feast like a beggar invited to a castle. She chomps down and rips apart tens of pounds of various exotic animals, losing herself in the assortment of incredible flavors and delicacies of the Kraktol Empire.

    All the while, Loreen watches in silence.

    Once Kisa cleans the entire table of food, she pauses, breathing laboriously.

    "Ugh... mother... I... I think I ate... too much..."

    Loreen smiles.

    "No feeling is as satisfying as uncovering a primal truth about yourself. Good for you, Kisa. Now I am truly proud to call you my daughter."

 Chapter 76: The Ancient Terror

    Admiral Rodriguez reveals a glimmer of humanity''s former glory as he deftly weaves through the gunfire bombarding his position. He ducks, dodges, and dives around, occasionally teleporting out of sight as he makes his way toward one of the five remaining autonomous drones.

    These robots, each more than fifty feet tall, tower above the human like gods before a bug. With heavy armor plating covering every inch of their exo-frames, even the few minor gaps in their armor don''t give the Terran any chances to deal critical damage. Jos�� fires several energized shotgun rounds at any exposed hull points he can pick out, but his attacks ricochet harmlessly into the distance.

    Becoming more enraged by the second, Jos�� shoots a glance at Soren. She lays lifelessly on the floor, unconscious thanks to the sedatives flowing through her blood. Her armor system flash-freezes her wounds to staunch the bleeding while using nanites to temporarily repair ripped-apart blood vessels. However, after suffering from such a terrible shock, she can''t disable the drones like Jos�� originally intended.

    I have to beat these drones some other way, Jos�� thinks.

    He taps a button on his shotgun, changing it into a liquid-metal form for a few seconds. The weapon rapidly shifts its shape until it becomes a razor-sharp kinetic blade, one with an explosive firing sequencer on its hilt. This special utility function allows its wielder to instantly unleash full-power slashes by discharging its ammo like rockets. By increasing the sword''s forward momentum in an instant, the wielder can slice through most common alloys effortlessly!

    The Terran nods. This had better work!

    He rushes toward the nearest drone. Its iris module locks onto him and begins peppering his position with armor-piercing rounds, each one capable of splattering his entire body into meat-paste. Compared to the might of a mech-sized cannon, his pitiful infantry armor can''t withstand even a single shot. Not once since his awakening has the Admiral faced such an imminent threat to his life.

    As the gunfire rains down on Jos��, his eyes dart around, calculating the attack vectors of the twin-barreled cannons locked onto his position. He uses their firing angles to form a series of predictive algorithms which detail the safest route to his targets, then executes a series of planned side-steps and detours to perform seemingly impossible feats of agility. Within five seconds, the Admiral instantly reverses his movement, side-flips, and even belly-flops to the floor, allowing bullets to whizz past his armor with only millimeters of clearance. They blast apart the floor and leave frighteningly large craters behind him, each bullet telling a story of an alternate timeline where he failed to dodge and met a gruesome end.

    Nevertheless, the Terran prevails. Tens of centuries of real-world combat have turned him into a lethal killing machine, something the modern galactic citizens could never fully understand, not even in their worst nightmares. Having fought Demon Dukes and Emperors, the threat level of a few measly combat drones only gives the Terran a moment of adrenaline while making him pause to evaluate his most efficient killing strategy.

    And then, just like that...

    Whiff!

    The Terran teleports to the nearest combat drone''s shoulder and slashes his sword, pulling the trigger on its blade to enhance his decapitation strike''s swing-speed.

    An instant after swinging his sword, the Terran kicks the drone''s still-glowing iris-module. He sends its head flying to the side, where it crashes into the floor. Then, he lifts the sword over his head and slashes down into its exposed ''neck'' conduits.

    KZZAT!

    By the time the other four combat drones start to fire on his position, the Terran has already finished his task. He completely mutilates the drone''s innards, rendering it inoperable. He teleports away and finishes off the other four drones one-by-one, using a similar technique to deal with each of them. Despite his predictable movements, the comparably ''dumb'' AIs cannot even follow his repetitive attack patterns, leaving them unable to defend themselves. Were they to aim at each other''s heads, they might be able to shoot him the instant he arrived. Fortunately, their AI cores are merely gamma-level.

    They are nowhere near as intelligent as the AI used to control most starships.

    By the time the Admiral finishes, ten minutes have passed since Soren''s fall. He hurries to her side and grimaces, finally getting a good look at her condition.

    "Soren! Soren, stay with me!" Jos�� says, dropping to his knees. He kneels down into a pool of her quickly-drying blood to scoop her into his arms. He leaves behind her severed arm and tail, given Umi can regrow her some new limbs on the Bloodbearer.

    "We have to keep moving," Jos�� says, more to himself than his unconscious First Officer. "I can''t leave you here alone. The Buzor will eat you alive! You''ll just have to come with me."

    The Admiral princess-carries Soren, holding her in front of himself with both arms. However, instead of becoming utterly powerless to defend himself, Jos�� attaches his sword to his back and transmits a mental command to his Enforcer Armor.

    Switch to Escort Mode.

    A bland male voice speaks inside his suit''s confines, the same one shared by Soren''s suit.

    "Orders received."

    Unable to contact Umi or the Slipstream''s synthmind, Jos�� can only rely on his suit''s rudimentary gamma-class AI as he begins running toward the exit doors opposite of where he started. His sword fixes itself to a long, spindly ''arm'' sticking out of Jos��''s back, one which swivels in tandem with the Terran''s eye movements. The bladed-weapon transforms into a small-caliber rifle, weaker than the energized shotgun Jos�� has used up to this point, but also much more accurate.

    A targeting reticule appears in the Terran''s vision. As he reaches the exit, he pauses before a small side-door, one that has been sealed shut.

    With the combat drones protecting this room, Jos�� could never take the time to break in so long as they were capable of firing on him. However, with the drones destroyed, he can finally spare a minute to break out a high-intensity blowtorch. The Admiral holds Soren with one arm while slicing through the door with his free hand. Three minutes later, he kicks the door in, letting it crash to the floor.

    "I''ve got you," Jos�� mutters, as he picks up Soren again. He runs into the narrow hallway, where he finds an elevator shaft at the end leading deep into the facility''s depths.

    The Terran stops at the edge of the shaft. While somewhat cramped and narrow, it does offer a ladder for technicians to traverse between floors when the turbolifts stop functioning.

    The Admiral glances up and down the maintenance shaft.

    Good. I don''t see any Buzor crawling around. Perhaps they don''t know about these tunnels, or perhaps they think I don''t. Either way, there''s no chance I''m using the primary turbolifts. I might as well beg them to ambush me.

    The Terran takes one last look down at the bottom of the shaft. A series of figures appears in his vision.

    Estimated depth: 1,742 meters.

    The Admiral snorts. "If I fall all the way to the bottom, I''ll die. Good thing I only need to reach the thirty-first level."

    With that momentary thought to comfort him, the Admiral shrugs and jumps. He leaps feet-first into the shaft, pulling Soren close to himself so she won''t bang against the walls or the ladder.

    In less than three seconds, the Admiral reaches terminal velocity. He plummets downward at frightening speeds, making his heart leap into his throat.

    Scary!

    However, the fear becomes more of a momentary thrill for the Terran, who has endured far more frightening events in his life. After less than thirty seconds, a set of booster rockets ignites on the back of his armor, slowing his free-fall to an abrupt stop. The fuel reserves on his suit might only last half a minute at most, but they still provide him with an excellent reason not to fear deep chasms and sky-high falls.

    The moment the Admiral comes to a stop, he spots another entryway before him leading to one of the lower levels. Rather than clumsily trying to travel inside, he teleports forward, arriving smack in the maintenance hallway''s confines. He deactivates his booster rockets, then cocks his head.

    A door stands before him leading out of the tunnel. On the other side of it, the Admiral''s enhanced hearing easily picks up the sounds of bug-legs clanking against the floor.

    Great. They prepared a welcoming party.

    Despite not knowing the number of hostiles awaiting his arrival, the Admiral doesn''t flinch. He walks up to the door and gives it a hard kick.

    "Hey, fuckos! Grandpa''s home, and he brought his bug-beating-belt!"

    Unlike the other maintenance door, which was locked to prevent easy access, the one on the 31st Level slides open automatically, revealing a horde of Buzor, all with their weapons trained onto the Admiral''s position.

    BLAMBLAMBLAM!

    Forty-five shotguns, pistols, and carbines fire in unison. Were those shots to land, the Admiral and his First Officer would instantly perish.

    Sadly for the Buzor, their plans immediately fail. The Terran teleports a hundred feet forward, straight into their back-lines. He turns his head around, which also causes his spinal-mounted rifle to follow his eye-movements.

    BLAT! BLAT! BLAT!

    Three high-powered rounds travel with unerring accuracy into the brains of multiple Mentii and Mitteras elites who Jos�� has determined to be the leaders of his hastily-assembled welcome party. The Buzor elites crumple like paper, never even sensing their approaching deaths. By the time the Buzor have trained their guns on Jos��''s position, he has teleported again, but this time, to one of the walls.

    His feet adhere to the metallic corridor siding, momentarily turning him into a flesh-based bio-turret. His head swivels robotically, picking out the Buzor with the most dangerous armaments. His rifle fires according to his thoughts, blasting apart the heads of one Mitteras and Mentii soldier after another.

    Each time the Buzor manage to spot him, he teleports again. Within just three minutes, he slaughters every last Buzor in the vicinity, then chuckles dryly.

    "Look, Nick. No hands! Hah... I bet he''d love that joke."

    The Admiral continues running. As he makes his way toward the core of the underground facility, he encounters heavy resistance. Several times, he stumbles into slapped-together ambushes, likely placed there by one of Yama''s Shades to slow the Terran''s progress. With the Admiral having taken a very different path to reach the Rip-Gate facility than expected, the Buzor have to scramble to meet up with their target before he reaches his final destination.

    A heads-up-display in Jos��''s iris implants shows him the layout of the facility. Even without it, the Admiral could navigate anywhere with his eyes closed, having spent entire chunks of his long-lived existence traversing these corridors.

    "Almost there..." Jos�� growls.

    He rounds one of the last few corners, only to immediately jump backward as a powerful explosion rocks the floor where he just stood.

    "Fucking hell!" Jos�� bellows. "The bug bastards saved the best for last."

    Unlike the broken drones Jos�� faced earlier, a pair of pristine-condition Beta-core mechs awaits him just around the corner. Equipped with equally sturdy shells protecting their insides, the two mechs come equipped with shoulder-mounted rocket launchers, spiraling Rotator Cannons on both of their arms, and heavily armored legs that grant them slow but steady mobility.

    Even after retreating from their line of sight, Jos��''s heart skips a beat when he hears the two mechs slowly begin stomping toward him.

    Thump! Thump!

    "Shit. Shit." Jos�� hisses. "Can I slip past them? Maybe, but I don''t want to barrel into another ambush with two fully-mobile Fire-Shellers riding my ass. I''ll have to play it safe and take them out first."

    He glances at Soren, then bites his lip.

    "No way. I can''t fight two mechs with Soren slowing me down. But if I leave her here, even for only a moment..."

    As the two mechs continue stomping toward him, Jos�� contemplates several dozen possible plans of action. A moment later, he carefully drops Soren at his feet, then climbs out of his protective suit, which remains standing.

    "Enforcer, switch to Sentry Mode. Protect First Officer Mudrose."

    His suit beeps an affirmation. "Order acknowledged."

    It closes up its shell and becomes a half-robot autonomous defense platform. The Enforcer armor takes on a life of its own as it stands over Soren protectively, its head swiveling from side to side to sweep the area for threats.

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    Jos�� sighs. "Great. That takes care of Soren. Now I only have to worry about myself."

    Without his Enforcer battlesuit, the Terran loses a great deal of his combat efficiency and power. Thankfully, he now possesses a specially-designed set of Dermal Armor that is much thinner and weaker than his original set, yet which also allows him to keep his cloaking systems active. While not nearly as durable as his original armor, it does increase his agility and grants a decent level of protection against shrapnel and low-caliber weaponry.

    The Admiral shoots one last look at his Enforcer suit. "You''d better goddamn well protect her. If you fuck up, I''ll eradicate every last bit of your neural-network."

    The Enforcer doesn''t respond, given its inability to comprehend fear. Even so, the Terran gets at least a moment of personal relief at his outburst.

    Before the two Fire-Shellers reach the corner where Admiral Rodriguez has taken shelter, the Terran leaps out of his cover and races toward them, activating his Dermal Armor to prevent incidental damage. Despite its complete uselessness in shielding him from any point-blank mech-grade attack, it still provides ample protection against random shrapnel and potshots from any nearby Buzor.

    Immediately, the Fire-Shellers spin up their chain-guns, unloading a torrent of bullets upon the Admiral. Unlike their comparatively idiotic Gamma-class cousins, these Beta-class synthminds possess excellent targeting vectors capable of counter-predicting the Admiral''s own predictions. He tries to dodge to the left, only to see their weapons train onto that position. Then he tries to leap toward the wall, only to falter mid-dodge as their bullets again follow his movements.

    Still, the Admiral remains undeterred. Lacking any ranged weaponry after leaving his Enforcer suit behind, he opts for a slow but steady approach, carefully weaving back and forth while occasionally teleporting to seemingly random coordinates, all in an attempt to slither his way toward the Fire-Shellers.

    "ATTENTION, INTRUDER. IMMEDIATELY CEASE ALL EVASIVE MOVEMENTS." One of the synthminds speaks. "THIS FACILITY IS PROPERTY OF THE UNITED TERRAN COALITION. ALL HERETICS WILL BE SHOT ON SIGHT. YOU WILL REMAIN IN PLACE AND AWAIT YOUR SCHEDULED TERMINATION."

    Jos�� snorts. "The hell I will."

    Just as the Terran teleports to a new position, an imminent sense of danger seizes his sixth sense! He awkwardly trips over his feet and falls flat on his face, while a powerful shadow-spike impales his left leg. The attack, previously aimed at his chest, instead tears into his fleshy left calf, making him cry out in pain. "Aaaugh!"

    Voluptuous, along with several dozen other Shades, appears in the darkness, grinning wickedly.

    "You made it here quite effortlessly, Jos�� Rodriguez, Admiral of the UTC Bloodbearer. But... didn''t you think we had gone a little too easy on you?"

    This ambush, unlike the seemingly feeble ones launched by the Buzor before, catches the Terran by surprise. The meter-long spear of darkness dissolves after impaling his leg, allowing blood to spurt from the fresh wound. Not even Jos��''s Dermal Armor protects him from the violent strength of Yama''s elite Shades.

    The Fire-Shellers swing their guns at Jos��''s new position, while he lays on the ground, gritting his teeth in pain.

    BRRRT! BRRRT!

    The Terran hurriedly activates his teleportation device again, ignoring its ten-second cooldown. He disappears and reappears atop the foot of one of the Fire-Shellers, then grabs onto a thin gap in its shin-plating. A moment later, a burst of neural feedback strikes the Terran''s mind, making him howl in pain.

    His teleportation augment, while perfectly safe if given time to cool down, suffers from temporal feedback if used too often and without giving it enough time to adjusts its safety limiters. The agony momentarily cripples the Terran, leaving him exposed to enemy attacks!

    Fifty shadow-spears fly out of the darkness. They rush at Jos�� from his flanks, only for something completely unexpected to occur.

    The Fire-Sheller Jos�� attached himself to suddenly turns its leg aside, causing the Shade''s attacks to crash harmlessly against its durable armor.

    Voluptuous blinks. "Huh? You... you stupid idiot robot! Don''t move! You just blocked our entire attack, you nimrod! This is why fleshbag technology is the worst! It''s so unreliable!"

    She rears back to summon another shadow-spear, but at that moment, the Fire-Sheller speaks, its voice booming through the corridor.

    "SPECIAL AUTHORIZATION CODE ''GAMMA EPSILON ONE-ONE-THREE'' ACCEPTED. WELCOME, SUPREME COMMANDER RODRIGUEZ. ADJUSTING TARGETING PRIORITIES."

    Not only the first Fire-Sheller, but the second one as well, inexplicably changes sides. Their iris-targeting modules swivel to face the Shades, causing all of Yama''s harem-members to freeze up in fear.

    "What?!" Voluptuous cries. "How did the human take them over?! Don''t tell me he can just touch the devil-damned robots and turn them against us!"

    Another Shade squeaks in fright. "H-how should I know? Fleshbag technology might as well be alien to me!"

    As the Shades float backward, the Fire-Shellers turn their weapons on them.

    BRRRT! BRRRT!

    Their bullets glow white-hot in the darkness as they blast apart more than three dozen of Yama''s whores. The fallen Shades explode into smoke, unable to handle the reversal of their fortunes. A moment later, the rest flee in a panic.

    Voluptuous, caught off-guard by the human''s cunning, perishes along with her sisters.

    Admiral Rodriguez staggers and flops off the Fire-Sheller''s foot. He lands on his ass, then gingerly leans against the mech''s leg while trying not to put too much weight on his injured limb.

    However, contrary to the Shade''s expectations, the Human merely raises his eyes to look at the mechs in confusion.

    "...What? You recognize my orders? But how? I didn''t even do anything!"

    The first Fire-Sheller beeps in affirmation. "AUTONOMOUS COMMAND HAS BEEN RESTORED TO SUPREME COMMANDER RODRIGUEZ. AWAITING ORDERS."

    "That doesn''t answer my- never mind! I have to stop Yama now! I''ve wasted too much time dealing with his bullshit."

    The Admiral repeatedly teleports and staggers back to Soren''s position. He climbs inside his Enforcer battlesuit, which seals up his wounds and applies combat stimulants to help him recover. Unlike Soren, who lost an entire limb, Jos�� can quickly heal thanks to his body''s abundant nanites.

    The Terran picks Soren up once again. He runs past the two Fire-Shellers, still confused by their abrupt and somewhat nonsensical change of programming.

    "Hey! You two, come with me! Move to the Rip-Gate facility!"

    "ORDER ACKNOWLEDGED, SUPREME COMMANDER."

    Jos�� gives one last look at the mech before continuing forward.

    "Maybe Ramma is still with me, after all this time. That must be the reason. It sometimes feels as if some higher existence is protecting me. Perhaps she has lived on in spirit. That is the sort of thing a Titan could do."

    The Terran glances around the darkness. However, without his psionic abilities, he can no longer detect the existence of spiritual and magical manifestations.

    "Ramma. If you helped me just now... then, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. I won''t let you down. I will stop Yama!"

    Admiral Rodriguez rushes forward. The Fire-Shellers fail to keep up with him, but still, they follow his commands, slowly moving toward the Rip-Gate facility.

    Within less than a minute, Jos�� arrives at a pair of giant double-doors. Contrary to his expectations, they sit wide-open, as if beckoning him to come inside.

    A blood-red glow emanates from the facility''s interior, illuminating the darkness. Jos��''s heart drops into his shoes.

    "Oh my god. I''m... I''m too late."

    Dozens of blank-faced Kessu stand idly around a huge circular platform. In its center, a blood-red disc hums quietly. Like a giant mirror, opaque, preventing observers from peering through its surface, it levitates in the air, perfectly stable. No irregularities crackle around its edges, showing that the Kessu have succeeded in eliminating all possible feedback and temporal tears.

    Yama, the Demon Emperor of Shadows, lazily floats beside the portal, along with hundreds of his Shades.

    "Kukuku..." Yama chuckles. "So. You have finally caught up to us, fleshbag. We tried our best but failed to stop you. Ah, but alas... you could not stop us either. We succeeded in opening the Rip-Gate."

    He gestures toward the blood-red disc behind himself.

    "We did not want to do this, you know. We liked it here. A galaxy full of maturing species, all unaware of our existence. What fun we would have. What joy we would feel as we snatched away the most suitable females for our harem. But then you came along and ruined it for us. A devil-damned cockroach. A monster who will regenerate even if we kill you a hundred times."

    Jos�� slowly sets Soren down, then stands before her protectively while holding his shotgun in front of his chest.

    "What now, Yama? Are you going to run away? You don''t think you can defeat me? I''m only one measly human. You already killed me once. You can probably do it again."

    Yama eyes the Terran with contempt.

    "Do not attempt wordplay with the likes of us, fleshbag. We have lived for eons. We are ageless, timeless, enduring. It matters not where we go, so long as nobody knows we exist. This galaxy. Some other galaxy. Some other universe or time. Those distinctions do not matter to us. If we fight you here, perhaps we may win, or perhaps we may die. Why take the risk? Better to start a new life in another place, one where the likes of you cannot follow us."

    Jos�� narrows his eyes. "Haha. Oh, yeah? Sounds like you''ve got it all planned out. And yet you haven''t left yet. What''s the matter, oh, mighty Emperor? Feeling some regret? Can''t help but stick around to taunt me?"

    In the distance behind Jos��, the sounds of the approaching Fire-Shellers draw near. Yama flicks his eyes in their direction, then shakes his head.

    "No. We feel no regret about leaving. The Rip-Gate was always a contingency plan. We only wished to gaze upon your face one last time... and to savor your emotions. You have not won, fleshbag. This Emperor is undefeatable. All the rest of my kind have perished, yet we have lived. Why do you suppose that is? We will tell you. It is because we are... shameless. We do not care about glory or honor. We will run away if it means saving our own hide."

    Yama cocks his head.

    "But... what about you, we wonder? Do you possess the same shameless cowardice? Or are you a fool who would even fight to save a galaxy which does not care about him in the slightest?"

    The back of Jos��''s mind begins to tingle.

    "What do you mean? What are you talking about?"

    Yama chuckles. "Kukuku. We always have the last laugh, fleshbag. Consider our words, for your reckoning has arrived."

    Jos�� stands, unmoving, as Yama turns around and leaps through the portal. His shadowy, liquid-like body easily slips through the Rip-Gate, while his harem follows after him a moment later. All of them jump through at the same time, leaving Jos�� alone.

    A moment later, one of the braindead Kessu screams in pain.

    "MREEEAAAW!!"

    SPLAT!

    The Kessu''s head explodes like a watermelon, as do those of the rest. Unable to salvage the situation, Jos�� can only watch as, within a span of seconds, Yama and his Shades vanish, the Rip-Gate collapses, and all of the Kessu''s heads explode due to time-bombs planted inside their skulls.

    The room falls eerily silent. Darkness takes over as the Rip-Gate''s light vanishes.

    The Admiral stares ahead blankly, a sensation of defeat welling up in his chest.

    "I failed. I couldn''t make it here in time."

    Knowing Yama''s speed, the Terran could never hope to intercept and kill him. With the Rip-Gate already opened, the Shadow Emperor''s escape was guaranteed long before Jos��''s arrival.

    The Terran picks up Soren and slowly walks over to the Rip-Gate''s control terminal. He sets Soren down beside it, then presses several buttons, but fails to obtain a response from its system.

    "Sabotaged..." Jos�� mutters. "Yama planned everything out. He did all this just to fuck with me."

    The Admiral slams his fist on the terminal.

    "SHIT! Goddamn it! Worthless shadow-bastard!"

    As the Terran hurls obscenities, the Fire-Shellers arrive outside the room.

    Suddenly, one of them blares an alarm.

    "WARNING. UNIDENTIFIED INTRUDER DETECTED!"

    Jos��''s heart skips a beat. He turns just in time to see the mech raising its gun to aim at him.

    "No!"

    Before the mech can fire, the floor in front of Jos�� explodes! The metal-paneling blasts upward as an unseen assailant rushes away from the Terran toward the two Fire-Shellers. Momentarily caught off-guard, Jos�� can barely follow the human-sized biped''s movements as it moves with lightning speed toward the mecha.

    BRRRT! BRRRT!

    The robots rain fire and fury over the attacker, but it easily bobs and weaves, evading their gunfire.

    Then, something even more unbelievable happens.

    The biped leaps at the first Fire-Sheller''s chest. It crashes against the exotic alloys protecting the drone to tear through them like a knife impaling a wet piece of paper. The first Fire-Sheller shudders as the biped easily penetrates its chest and explodes through its back. The second one tries to gun down the attacker, but its bullets only hit afterimages as it fails to account for its adversary''s uncannily swift speed.

    Jos�� immediately connects the dots.

    Yama! This must be his final plan! He brought back a Demon Emperor to stop me, since he''s too cowardly to do so himself!

    The Terran quickly levels his gun. He fires precision rounds at the biped, its body moving far too quickly for him to identify. Not once does it speak or utter a sound, preventing him from identifying it through even the most roundabout means. His bullets mostly miss, but two or three actually land! However, to the Admiral''s alarm, they seemingly deal no damage as the monstrously powerful enemy rips apart the second Fire-Sheller and lands behind it.

    "Who are you?!" Jos�� bellows. He fires several more rounds at the enemy, but this time, it doesn''t move at all. The biped stands in the distance, allowing the bullets to impact its body without flinching.

    Jos��''s question goes unanswered. His shadowy enemy stands with its back to the Admiral, as if staring into the darkness ahead with unseeing eyes. He fires dozens more bullets, but they, too, strike the creature''s body without causing any injuries.

    Eventually, it turns to face Jos��. The creature begins striding toward him slowly, its movements oddly uncoordinated and clumsy. It shuffles like a zombie, approaching the Admiral without a shred of fear.

    "Which Emperor are you?! Bael? No! You don''t look like him at all! Belial? Agares? WHO ARE YOU?!"

    Jos�� continues to shout. However, once the biped draws within a certain distance, his iris modules finally become capable of picking out specific details about its appearance.

    Neither male nor female. No face. No clothes. A mossy-green body covered in fungus. Indistinct features, as if the creature were being viewed through a distorted lens.

    The moment Jos�� finally perceives the creature''s full appearance, his skin loses its color. He stops firing and gazes in complete, abject horror.

    In all his years, never has the Admiral felt as terrified as at this moment. No matter how many Emperors and aliens he''s fought, none of them have caused him as much alarm as the monster approaching him now.

    Jos��''s legs begin to shake. He takes a step back, causing his knees to knock together. All of his will to fight drains away as his pupils shrink to pinpricks.

    "No. No... no..."

    The creature slowly shambles toward Jos��, its featureless head lacking eyes, ears, a mouth, or even a nose. Utterly nebulous, the thing looks more like a sentient tree poorly mimicking a human''s general figure than any living creature the galaxy has ever witnessed.

    The Terran continues to retreat. He nearly trips over Soren, yet doesn''t even notice her figure, so focused are his eyes on the approaching monster.

    "We... we wiped... w-wiped you out... killed you all... every timeline... every galaxy..."

    Inside the Terran''s retina, several warnings appear.

    Multiverse fungal life-form, ''Bio-Plague,'' identified. Threat Classification: Alpha-Omega. Request backup. Do not engage alone. Do not linger in the vicinity. Retreat immediately.

    Tears well up in the Admiral''s eyes. His full-body terror mixes together with a sense of twisted admiration in Yama''s final scheme.

    "You heretic... YOU''VE DOOMED US ALL! AHHHHH!!"

    The Admiral fires at the monster''s head, but his bullets splash harmlessly against its skin. The monster seemingly ''swallows'' the bullets into its skull, leaving it completely unharmed.

    An instant later, it lunges toward him. The Admiral gets no time to react as a club-shaped fist rockets toward his chest.

    THUNK.

    His vision blanks out. He receives a distant impression of metal rushing at him before waking up an instant later buried under a pile of steel wall-panels and wires. Blood stains his vision, and a dull ringing echoes in his ears. The Admiral''s chest cries out for mercy. So vicious was the monster''s attack that he feels as if every single one of his ribs was crushed into pulp.

    "Guh... guk..."

    The Terran coughs two wads of blood onto the floor. He dizzily swivels his head around, only to receive a terrible fright when he spots a pair of moss-covered legs standing to his right!

    "AAAHHH!"

    He jerks his head upward, where he sees the faceless creature with its head tilted toward his, as if trying to look into his eyes. Jos�� throws himself off the floor and tosses aside the rubble, feeling momentarily relieved as he realizes his ribs are only horribly bruised and not totally broken. His Enforcer armor, though, appears far worse for the wear.

    An instant later, the creature''s leg crashes into Jos��''s side, taking him completely by surprise. Once again, he awakens inside a pile of rubble, his brain groggily trying to follow the events that just transpired.

    Jos�� weeps tears of defeat. Even as one of humanity''s pinnacle warriors, a member of Ramma''s Chosen, someone who has slain gods, he has never felt as helpless in his entire life as he does at this very moment.

    "Yama... cough... you goddamned... heretic..."

    Jos�� lifts his eyes to see the creature shuffling toward him, with one leg moving normally while half-dragging the other along for the ride.

    "How could you... conjure... a monster from the Timeline Wars...?"

    The Terran struggles to his feet.

    "How could you doom us... by summoning... a goddamned KOLVAXIAN?"

 Chapter 77: Multiverse Bio-Fungal Plague

    Long ago, before the Mallali, Rodaks, and other Sentients were anything more than a speck in the Creator''s eye, Terrans ruled the Milky Way. Their complete domination of the second-largest galaxy in the Local Cluster did not come as a result of luck or happenstance. They overcame relentless odds, defeating a powerful Type III galaxy-spanning civilization to achieve fifty lengthy eras of galactic supremacy.

    However.

    Before Terrankind defeated the Volgrim, they learned a horrible truth. The Volgrim were not the scariest monsters in the Milky Way. There was, in fact, a civilization of horrifying, unspeakable mutants that not even the Volgrim could defeat. Were it not for these creatures existing, Terrankind might never have defeated their overlord adversaries.

    That being said, the Terrans did not unite with these creatures, these... aberrants. They joined hands with their enemies, the Volgrim, to absolutely crush the fearful monsters from the deepest corners of space.

    The Kolvaxians.

    Volgrim and Terran alike set aside their wars for a time, uniting to stop the Plague from spreading across all the different universes and all the different timelines. It was only because they united that they did not both perish to the Kolvaxians, for their monstrous foes would have certainly pounced upon them if they weakened one another.

    But what were the Kolvaxians? What created them? What dreadful part of the cosmos birthed these nigh-unstoppable horrors?

    Some might know the answer. However, humanity''s last survivor, Supreme Commander Jos�� Rodriguez, cannot count himself among them.

    He, like all of Ramma''s Chosen, knows more than most about the broad details surrounding the Kolvaxians. Taught about their characteristics from a young age, he and all the other Terrans knew to keep an eye out and to make sure the Plague never resurfaced.

    Unrelenting. Unafraid. Unstoppable.

    These words, among many others, barely described the horrors a few random Kolvaxians could unleash upon a populace.

    And now, as Jos�� Rodriguez endures a brutal pummeling from the faceless monster, he finally understands the truth.

    The legends far understated a Kolvaxian''s might.

    Jos�� switches his gun to its highest power-output, turning it into a makeshift railgun. He takes potshots at the Kolvaxian, but to his alarm, the monster''s intellect seemingly increases over time. It dodges several of his attacks, while taking little to no damage from those that hit.

    "Die! JUST DIE!" Jos�� screams, the blood vessels in his right eye bursting from rage. The Kolvaxians rushes at him, its feet making no sound as it crosses the hundred-foot distance in a single breath. Like a ghost flickering through the wind, the eerily silent creature makes all the hair on Jos��''s neck stand up in terror.

    BOOM!

    A fist crashes against Jos��''s helmet, making him spin violently through the air. He smashes into a wall and flops to the floor, his brains rattled. Fluid leaks from his ears. A dull roar, like a whale moaning from deep within the sea, assaults his ears. The ringing sound quickly fades away as Jos��''s nanite-filled blood rushes to repair his worst injuries, but even the seemingly magical abilities of 50th-Era nanotechnology can only do so much.

    Jos�� shakily rises to his feet. The Kolvaxian stands fewer than twenty feet away, watching him, toying with him like a cat with a ball of yarn.

    "I''m... I''M NOT AFRAID OF YOUUU!!" Jos�� screams. He aims at the monster''s head, but the instant he pulls the trigger, the Kolvaxian sidesteps, causing the railgun round to fire into the wall behind it.

    THUNK!

    Jos�� involuntarily vomits as the monster''s fist smashes into his stomach. His broken and tattered Enforcer armor does little to protect him. He crashes into and grinds against the wall for several dozen feet before bouncing off and falling to the floor.

    Seconds pass.

    The Terran''s consciousness swims. Compared to his fights against Demon Emperors, this battle truly brings him to the edge of helplessness.

    "Ouuhhh..."

    Tears of blood drip from Jos��''s right eye. He shakily rolls over, unable to lift his arms. Countless alarms ring inside his cerebral monitors.

    Admiral Rodriguez''s body integrity has fallen below 50%.

    Admiral Rodriguez has suffered a level 2 concussion. Seek medical treatment immediately.

    WARNING: Kolvaxian detected in the immediate vicinity. Retreat at once. Seek assistance from all local military forces. Do not engage alone. Request backup from all hostile and non-hostile factions. All internal Terran wars are hereby rescinded until the alien menace has been exterminated.

    Jos�� coughs.

    If only he could.

    He is alone. There are no other soldiers who can assist him. If he does not kill the Kolvaxian, trillions will perish.

    The Varot, those living on the world formerly known as Ramaldius, will be the first to fall.

    Once the Kolvaxian has absorbed and replicated enough hosts, it will mutate into its higher stages. Civilizations located within the nearest several lightyears will be the next to fall as it travels across interstellar space.

    It is not one, but many.

    The Kolvaxians are more than mere monsters, yet less than an intelligent species.

    They are a self-replicating plague. A ball of bio-terrorism on a multiversal scale.

    Jos�� grits his teeth.

    "I can''t... can''t die here... I have to save them all."

    He forces himself to his feet, feeling momentarily relieved the Kolvaxian has not yet attacked him. In the back of his mind, a sense of warning comes from this thought, but he pushes it down, as his damaged brain simply cannot exhaust itself any more while also dreaming up military tactics.

    "Nobody knows. Only me. I can''t connect to Umi. I can''t warn anyone. If I die, it will escape."

    His arms tremble. He lifts his head to see the monster once against standing a short distance away, as if silently laughing at him.

    "Did Yama only bring one? It doesn''t matter. Even one Kolvaxian is one too many. I have to exterminate it. I have to kill it at all costs!"

    The Admiral presses a button on his rifle. It changes forms once again, this time shifting into a one-time-use particle grenade. This weapon, capable of eradicating all the biomatter in a 3-meter vicinity, ends up being the only thing the Admiral can think of to wipe out the monster from the Timeline Wars.

    "Come here, you motherfucker..." Jos�� hisses through his blood-stained teeth. His one still-functioning eye locks onto the Kolvaxian as he waits for it to move toward him. "What are you waiting for? C''mere. Hit me. Hit me!"

    Somewhat worryingly, the Kolvaxian remains in its place, its faceless head trained on the Admiral''s position, yet no caution or alarm lingers in its body language.

    What thoughts might be running through its head?

    Could it be laughing at the inferior Terran?

    Could it be entirely brainless, acting on instinct?

    The Terran pauses as that last thought flickers through his mind.

    "Wait. Something... isn''t quite right..."

    The Admiral''s eye flickers slightly as doubt appears in his gaze.

    "Why isn''t it attacking me? I''m wide open. It''s hit me plenty of times..."

    He quickly replays the last several minutes of brutal beatdowns he''s suffered at the Kolvaxian''s fists, and even thinks back to when it attacked the Fire-Shellers.

    "Is there a pattern? Have I overlooked something?"

    He recites hundreds of memories related to his Academy classes from his youth. Despite those classes being from thousands of years ago in his bio-existence, he still recalls them easily thanks to his eidetic memory, aided heavily by his cerebral processors.

    "Hivemind. Bio-mass. All consuming. Instinctive."

    "Instinctive..." He repeats. "Kolvaxians aren''t stupid. That much is clear from my academy lessons. They''re frighteningly intelligent and can out-think even some of the best military leaders. It was only when citizens from the multiverse united that we managed to eradicate these bastards once and for all. But if that''s the case, then why is this one different?"

    The Admiral clenches his particle grenade with sweaty palms.

    "Hey... hey you! Can you hear me? Can you understand me? Why are you just standing there, looking at me? Don''t you want a piece of my human-flesh? I know you''re hungry!"

    Jos�� taunts the Kolvaxian, but still, it remains in place, merely staring at him.

    "...Is it really just toying with me?" Jos�� muses out loud. "Maybe there''s more to this monster than I thought. I should have paid more attention to my studies. I''m definitely missing something. Could it be... this monster only attacks things that attack it first? Does it only move to action when immediate threats bear down on it?"

    This hypothesis crosses Jos��''s mind. He once again repeats the past battles and comes to a tentative answer.

    "It attacked the Fire-Shellers when they aimed their guns at it. Then it attacked me multiple times when I shot it. Son of a bitch. Is that why it''s just standing there, staring at me? Is this some sort of autonomous drone? Kolvaxians aren''t supposed to act this way!"

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    The more Jos�� thinks, the less his body aches, and the greater the amount of clarity that returns to his mind.

    "Kolvaxians are a hivemind. Maybe... since this is the only Kolvaxian in my universe... it lacks a controller to guide its actions?"

    The longer Jos�� spends thinking without the Kolvaxian attacking him, the more comfortable he grows with that hypothesis.

    "Yeah. Yeah! That must be it. It''s only an autonomous drone. Maybe... maybe I can grab Soren and leave. I can slip past the bastard and return later."

    However, the Admiral quickly shakes his head.

    "I can''t do that. If I leave, this thing could go anywhere. It has a whole planet of juicy natives it could consume. One Kolvaxian is dangerous. Two or more will... I don''t even want to think of the consequences."

    Resolving himself to take any action necessary, a bit of fear disappears from Jos��''s heart. He tightens his grip on the grenade while slowly nodding.

    "So be it. Perhaps this is why Ramma brought me to this time. Whether saving the Sentients from a Demon Emperor or a Kolvaxian, trading my life for trillions is a worthy sacrifice."

    With nothing left to fear except failure, Jos�� resolves himself to make the deadliest move of his life.

    "As long as I can bring you down with me, it will all be worth it..."

    The Terran takes a step forward, then pauses. He waits for the Kolvaxian to react, but it continues to stand in place, gazing at him seemingly without any thoughts running through its brain.

    "Here, little plaguey-plaguey..." Jos�� whispers. "I''ve got a treat for you. Do you like to play catch? I love it. It''s my favorite game."

    He takes another slow step toward the Kolvaxian. Then another. And yet another.

    As the Terran cautiously narrows the gap, the Kolvaxian doesn''t even twitch. Its head remains locked onto his, as if watching him with its invisible eyes.

    "You are one creepy motherfucker..." Jos�� mutters. "I bet Nick would chicken out if he were here. Guy hated darkness and crawly-critters alike. You would have been his worst nightmare."

    Jos�� closes the distance. Ten feet. Five feet. Two.

    Soon, he arrives within arm''s reach. He stops talking, fearful that any movement will make the monster attack him. Still, it remains locked in place, unmoving.

    The Terran slowly presses his thumb onto the grenade''s activation button.

    Beep.

    Then, he gently raises his arm, as if to offer the Kolvaxian a cookie.

    "H-here, buddy. It''s a present. Because we''re beeeest friends. Just you and me. You like presents, right? Everyone loves-"

    Just as Jos�� starts to lift his finger off the detonator, the Kolvaxian''s arm lunges out, seemingly at the speed of light. It grabs onto the Terran''s wrist, making his eyes shrink to pinpricks.

    "Fuck."

    The Kolvaxian yanks with all its strength.

    RIIIIP!

    Jos��''s arm tears out of his shoulder socket, along with an ungodly amount of bodily entrails and other unmentionables.

    Time freezes for a split-second. Jos�� watches dumbly as the Kolvaxian hurls his arm and the grenade behind itself. An instantly later, a light like the sun explodes in the darkness.

    THOOM!

    Jos��''s retinal implants adjust to the light, allowing him to watch as his arm evaporates into nothingness. A perfect sphere of destruction engulfs a two-meter area, shredding all the bio-mass in its explosive radius while leaving all inanimate matter untouched.

    After the explosion ceases, the Kolvaxian remains in place, unharmed.

    "AAAARRRGH!" Jos�� screams, when the pain of losing an arm finally hits him. He stumbles back and falls to the floor, howling bloody murder as every one of his pain-suppression implants struggles to adjust to the flood of neurological stimuli. A sensation of grogginess washes over his mind once his cerebral inhibitors activate, but before the Terran can fully adjust to the phantom pain ravaging his right side, the Kolvaxian moves.

    Silently, like a jungle cat pouncing onto its prey, the monster grabs the Terran by his throat and pins him to the floor. Jos��''s eyes widen in fear as the monster''s formerly club-like fist splits into two huge ''fingers, each one twining around his neck to hold him in place.

    Then, with its other limb, the Kolvaxian grabs onto his bloody stump, where fresh plasma spews from his ripped-off shoulder.

    "Aaaah! Get off! Get off me!" Jos�� screams. He grabs onto the Kolvaxian''s wrist with his remaining arm, but fails to pry it away. His pathetic, feeble muscles do not avail him. The plague-monster possesses far superior strength even compared to many Demon Emperors.

    The Admiral jerks his head to the right. He watches in horror as the Kolvaxian wraps its claws around his blood-spewing wound. Like a vacuum cleaner, the monster greedily ''slurps'' up his plasma. A moment later, the sensation of something ''swimming'' inside Jos��''s chest makes his heart skip several beats.

    No, no, no!! It''s assimilating me! I have to fight back! I can''t die like this! I CAN''T LET IT CONSUME ME!!

    He struggles. He fights. He claws at its rubbery skin to try and rip it apart with his fingernails, yet no matter what the Terran attempts, he fails to get even an inch of leverage on his monstrous enemy.

    "No... please... please, not like this... Ramma, help me... help me!"

    His vision begins to fade. As the monster swallows his blood, its body shimmers and shifts, slowly adjusting in color from muddy-moss to a bright grassy-green texture.

    Just before the Admiral''s life reaches its end, the creature flinches.

    The Kolvaxian jerks its head back, like a dog sprayed in the face with water.

    "???"

    A guttural sound, something vaguely echoing of confusion, erupts from its body. The Kolvaxian instantly detaches from Jos�� and pulls away, then falls to the deckplates and begins writhing like a snake that has fallen onto hot pavement.

    "???"

    "!!!"

    "???"

    Jos��, too weak to move, lulls his head to the side. He watches distantly, confused and alarmed, as the monster makes strange, incomprehensible sounds. Some of them resemble metal sawblades crashing against each other. Others vaguely remind the Terran of noises sea-creatures might make when skewered by meat-hooks.

    "!!!!!!!!"

    The Kolvaxian screams. It rolls around on the floor. It twists and bends, causing its body to transform from a bipedal figure into something blob-like, resembling a mass of mud.

    "??!!??!!"

    Several minutes pass. Jos�� groggily regains a bit of his brainpower as his internal nanites work to restore his body to basic functioning order.

    "...Whuhhh...?"

    The more time that passes, the slower the Kolvaxian blob''s movements become. The creature writhes and wriggles less and less.

    Eventually, it stops altogether. It makes no more sounds, and its green-coloration begins to fade.

    The monster falls inert. Its blobular body rapidly decomposes until it becomes flaky and granular, like ash from a fireplace.

    Ten minutes become thirty. Jos�� slowly pulls himself to his feet. His arm no longer bleeds. Instead, a thin layer of skin covers his stump, cutting off the blood loss and allowing him to recirculate what''s left inside himself to heal his other injuries.

    "Ugh... ugh... oh, gods..."

    The Terran shakily waddles over to the pile of Kolvaxian ash. He nudges it with his foot, which causes it to crumple and fall apart, scattering across the floor.

    Jos��''s retinal sensors tell the full story.

    Kolvaxian life-form defeated. Top-Secret Project [REDACTED] successful. [Redacted] [redacted] [redacted]. Please inform Professor [ERRORNULLNAMENOTFOUND] of the project''s success.

    "...Whud?" Jos�� mumbles, his words slurred due to his exhaustion. "Project... huh? I dun''t get it. Whud habbened?"

    His eyes lazily blink open and closed. A deep sense of exhaustion takes him, making him want to collapse to the deck and sleep for a week.

    However, as one of Ramma''s Chosen, his willpower stands leagues above that of ordinary humans. He clumsily reaches into his shattered armor''s contours to retrieve a thumb-sized device. He presses it against his neck, and it melts into a liquid-like substance, leeching into his throat.

    After a few moments, the device fulfills its duty. His mind becomes more alert, thanks to the proprietary neuro-stimulants belonging to his faction. He shakes his head to try and rid himself of the nausea wracking him, then he staggers over to Soren.

    "Hey. Soren. Soren! Come on, girl. I can''t carry you back to the surface. I only have one arm."

    He lightly smacks her face a few times, but she doesn''t react. The two of them both lack their right arms, making them appear remarkably similar in that one regard.

    "Well... I hope these work as well on you as they do me," Jos�� mutters, before pulling out another neuro-stimulant. He clumsily presses it against Soren''s neck and waits a few moments for it to dissolve. Luckily, it does, and within twenty seconds, Soren blinks her eyes open.

    "Aaaooo... kyargh..."

    "Rise and shine," Jos�� mutters, forcing a smile. "I''ve got good news and bad news."

    Soren tries to pull herself up, but the lack of a right arm causes her to momentarily panic. "Aah! Kyargh! Kyargh! M-my arm! Where is it?!"

    "We''ll grow you a new one," Jos�� replies. "And me, too."

    Soren pauses her screaming to stare wide-eyed at the Admiral. Unlike him, her Enforcer armor still remains in relatively pristine condition, aside from her entire missing limb and tail section.

    "What... what happened? How long as I out? Ah! Yama! Jos��, we have to stop Yama!"

    Jos�� purses his lips. He eyes his First Officer for a moment before gesturing to the pile of ash behind himself.

    "Don''t worry. I got him."

    Soren follows his gesture.

    "What? That''s Yama? You killed him all by yourself?!"

    The Admiral shrugs. "I, uh... I took care of him. He had a big surprise in store for me. It nearly cost me an arm and a leg, but I got a ''50% off'' deal, so I kept the leg."

    The Admiral''s morbid joke doesn''t make Soren laugh. "...Jos��, are you okay? Your face is... it''s completely ashen. You look like you can barely stand."

    "Hah... hah..." The Admiral weakly laughs. "I''m... pretty fucked up. Don''t know how much longer I can stay awake. We need to get back to the Bloodbearer to seek medical attention. Then, we can come back down here to clean up whatever''s left."

    Soren clenches her jaw. "There''s something you''re not telling me. Don''t lie to me, Jos��. What happened with Yama? Is he dead? What about his Shades? What about the Buzor?"

    Jos�� sighs. After deliberating internally for a moment, he shakes his head.

    "Alright. I can''t lie to you. Not to you, Soren."

    He shakes his head. "Yama... well, he''s not dead, but he''s not in our universe anymore. He escaped."

    The Admiral recounts his battle with the Kolvaxian to Soren, making her more and more horrified by the minute.

    "Krargh! Great ancestors! Jos��, that''s beyond terrible! You saved the entire galaxy from a catastrophe! Everyone... everyone owes you their lives!"

    He shrugs. "Probably. I don''t care, though. So long as I can purge heretics, I''ve lived a life worth living."

    The Admiral pauses.

    "Soren. Can you walk?"

    She grimaces. "Yes. Just... give me a minute."

    The crocodile awkwardly climbs up, helped by her Admiral. When she rises to her feet, she wobbles uncertainly as panic flashes across her face.

    "Ah! Ahh! I can''t- ah!"

    She tumbles backward and crashes to the floor, rolling around while wincing miserably.

    "What''s wrong?!" Jos�� asks. "Are you alright?"

    "I don''t have a tail!" Soren wails. "I can''t balance without my tail! It''s impossible. I felt sick to my stomach the moment I stood up!"

    "Sure, you can," Jos�� chuckles, feeling slightly relieved. "Here, you can lean on me. I''ll help you walk."

    "Okay... I''ll try."

    Once again, Jos�� helps Soren up. She wraps her left arm around his back, staggering awkwardly as they make their way to the exit.

    "There, see? You hold onto me. I only have one arm, so I''ll need to use it to blast any Buzor in our path."

    "Are you in any sort of fighting condition?" Soren asks worriedly. "Jos��, you look awful. Your skin even has a sickly hue to it."

    The Admiral sighs. "I don''t know. I felt awful earlier, but now that I''ve caught my breath, I''m doing better. I just need some fresh air. Can''t stand this stale, creeping darkness."

    "...Well, alright, then." Soren replies.

    The two of them slowly shuffle out of the Rip-Gate chamber. Jos�� shoots one last look at the Kolvaxian''s remains before continuing toward the exit. His previously shaky knees slowly regain their strength as the nanites in his body work to repair a fraction of the terrible injuries he''s suffered.

    "When I get back to the Bloodbearer, I''m sleeping for a month..." Jos�� grumbles.

    Soren nods. "Kyargh! Same."

    As they walk, Soren''s scales flush with color.

    "This is, um. This is kind of nice, Jos��."

    "What is?" He asks.

    "You and me. Together, like this."

    The Admiral falls silent.

    "...Don''t get too used to it. Yama may have sabotaged the Rip-Gate, but I''ll repair it soon enough. I''ve accomplished my mission. Once I''m back to optimal condition, I''m leaving this timeline. I don''t belong here."

    "You saved countless lives," Soren counters. "Once people find out, they''ll treat you like a hero."

    "Haha... a ''Hero,'' am I?" Jos�� chuckles. "Mmm. Not quite."

    "Jos��?"

    "It''s nothing. You wouldn''t understand."

    As the two of them walk, not a single Buzor appears in their path. Just when Jos�� starts feeling suspicious, the sound of footsteps rushes toward him.

    "Bogey, incoming," He growls, before aiming into the distance.

    His hearing, normally far superior to Soren''s, this time proves roughly equal. She still wears her Enforcer helmet, custom-made to fit her crocodilian snout. She perks up her ears and narrows her eyes to peer into the distance.

    "Wait, Jos��. Look. Isn''t that...?"

    The two of them watch as a giant figure runs toward them from the darkness. Jos�� lowers his gun and smiles.

    "Grundle. It''s you. Thank god."

    The giant crocodile screeches to a halt as he spots his Admiral and Soren, both missing their right arms.

    "Graugh! Admiral! Terrible, no-good news! Graugh! Graugh!"

    Clearly flustered, the Kraktol soldier''s huge frame makes his panic seem even more dire.

    "What''s wrong?" Jos�� asks.

    "Th-the Bloodbearer! It''s under attack!" Grundle growls. "The Mallali! They''ve attacked us!"

    "What?!" Jos�� howls. "That... those bastards! What the hell are they thinking?!"

    "They brought all kinds of powerful warships!" Grundle continues. "I didn''t even know they had them! Crazy strong! Bigger than the Bloodbearer! You have to hurry! Umi says she will not leave the planet until she has guaranteed your safety. That stupid AI is putting everyone on board in great danger!"

    The Admiral''s eyes turn to steel.

    "Fucking Mallali! Why would they attack now, right in the middle of a Buzor invasion?! Stupid, worthless, greedy heretics! Come on, help me along! I''ll get up there and take them down myself if that''s what it takes!"

    Grundle nods. "Graugh! Yes, Admiral!"

 Chapter 78: Attack on Bloodbearer

    Grundle easily picks up the injured Admiral with his left arm and Soren with his right. He rushes forward like the wind, his heavy feet crashing against the ground as he half-carries them out of the underground complex. This allows Jos�� to wield Soren''s weapon more easily, having lost his own.

    "Why didn''t Sapphire come back with you?" Soren asks. "You were both supposed to return."

    "Graugh! She had to return to the Bloodbearer to help everyone fight!" Grundle says. "I don''t get the details, but... you and the Admiral have apparently been down here for days!"

    Jos�� continuously sweeps his vision through the darkness. However, no matter where he looks, he doesn''t find a single Buzor lying in wait, which only deepens his suspicions.

    "What do you mean, ''days''?" Jos�� asks. "It only took us three hours to reach the Rip-Gate complex!"

    "I... I don''t know!" Grundle growls. He kicks aside a pile of collapsed ceiling wreckage blocking one of the many underground turbolifts, then steps inside and pushes a button, causing the lift to shudder to life and slowly move upwards. Unlike the rest of the facility, which relies on electricity or other forms of energy to keep itself active, this ancient Terran device uses a self-powering anti-gravity module, primarily to retain its transportation capabilities even in the event of power blackouts.

    "That''s the thing," Admiral," Grundle says. "Umi mentioned something about a temperature barrier surrounding the whole complex. Her scans and data transmissions couldn''t pierce inside."

    Jos�� grows even more confused. "A temperature barrier? Grundle, what the hell are you talking about?"

    "That''s what she called it! Graugh!" Grundle protests. "She said the temperature had something to do with time! I just rushed back down here to try and help you, so I didn''t stick around for the long talky-talk."

    Soren''s eyes flicker with recognition. "Grundle, are you sure she said ''temperature''? Did she maybe say ''temporal'' and you heard the word wrong?"

    "Ohhh! Yeah, yeah! Graugh!" Grundle replies, nodding huffily. "That''s the one!"

    Alarm appears in the Admiral''s eyes. "Hold on. If multiple days have passed on the surface, but only a few hours for us, then... that must mean... the time-space has slowed to a crawl within this complex! If that''s the case... then the Rip-Gate must have been the cause."

    His expression turns dire. "Did Umi explain the Time Dilation Ratio to you, Grundle? Did she give you a TDR index?"

    The Kraktol elite shakes his head. "No. Sorry, Admiral. I''m just not very smart..."

    "It''s not your fault," Jos�� replies. "How far has the Mallali attack proceeded?"

    "Don''t know. Umi said she had detected the hyperspace signatures of a horde of vessels an hour before I arrived, and the fleet had started appearing from hyperspace right when I came out. She said they brought a bunch of super strong warships, but she hadn''t collected the details on their forces yet."

    "That stupid synthmind..." Jos�� hisses. "She can''t leave the Bloodbearer in orbit. If the Mallali have decided to commit to an attack, they must have brought some powerful vessels. It would be much safer for everyone involved if she took the Bloodbearer and retreated. I could always escape on the Slipstream."

    Soren shakes her head. "No, Jos��. That won''t work. The flow of time outside is much faster than down here. Don''t you see? By the time Grundle started heading back underground, the fleet may have already arrived outside Veter''s atmosphere. They could easily pick up this facility''s location by the appearance of its temporal distortions and take an entire day pouring troops onto the surface to assault us. We''d never escape!"

    Jos��''s eyes twitch involuntarily. "Ramma, guide me! Umi prioritizes my existence as the last Terran. She won''t allow them to capture or kill me. It goes against her programming. But if Sapphire passed on my order, then, Umi should know to leave if the situation gets dicey. There are all sorts of weapons in this facility I can take over if the need is great enough!"

    Grundle sighs. "I''m sorry, Admiral. Sapphire passed on your command to Umi. Umi did not agree with your order to bombard this location, even if it meant killing Yama and whatever Emperor he brought back. She told us in no uncertain terms that any choice which would result in your death would violate her programming."

    "That goddamned bucket of bolts!" Jos�� roars, smashing his fist against the turbolift''s wall. "I may be the last Terran, but she possesses my DNA, as well as those belonging to all the Bloodbearer''s fallen crew! If necessary, she can clone a million more of us! Saving the lives of trillions always takes precedent over a few individuals. The needs of the many outweigh the few! What nimrod programmed that disobedient synthmind, anyway?! I''d like to have a few words with the bastard!"

    Soren and Grundle fall silent, allowing their Admiral to erupt in rage. Frankly, they feel just as mad and helpless as him. His anger seems a bit out of the ordinary, but they chalk it up to his harrowing fights with Yama, the Kolvaxian, and the Buzor.

    The turbolift finally reaches the top floor. Grundle steps out first, sweeping his head from side to side to look for enemies. Not a single Buzor lies in wait. He spots a few dead bodies the Admiral left behind earlier, but no other signs of movement.

    "Graugh! Where did the Buzor go?"

    Jos�� walks out of the turbolift, followed by a staggering Soren. They lean on Grundle once again as he continues running, this time at a slightly more measured speed.

    "Come on. We have to pick up the pace!" Jos�� commands. "This is no time to pussy-foot around!"

    "With all due respect, Admiral," Grundle says, "I have sworn myself to protect and serve you. I won''t rush blindly into any hidden traps the Buzor have laid. They may have regrouped at the first floor to wait for us."

    "My Enforcer Suit might be in shit condition, but I still have my Dermal Armor," Jos�� growls. "And Soren''s armor is practically in pristine condition, as is yours. Just move faster! Every minute we spend dawdling could be another hour on the surface! We have to move with haste!"

    Grundle hesitates for a moment before nodding.

    "...You make a good point. Graugh! My apologies for this rudeness."

    A moment later, he firmly wraps his powerful arms around Soren and Jos��''s waists. The reptilian predator erupts with terrifying speed, rocketing forward as his feet bang against the floor, each pair of footsteps sounding like the clanging of two hammers on an anvil.

    To Jos��''s consternation, they don''t spot a single Buzor along the way.

    "I smell a rat..." The Admiral growls.

    The timing, perhaps too coincidental, makes his suspicions go into high alert.

    I underestimated Yama once. What if this is all part of some ultimate plan of his? The bastard might have faked me out. He could have used the Rip-Gate to travel elsewhere in this universe, while also secretly coordinating with the Mallali leaders. Could it be? Did he plan the time dilation as a trap to catch me off-guard? Has he thought that far ahead?

    The more Jos�� thinks, the more worried he becomes.

    I find it hard to believe Yama would summon a Kolvaxian to this universe while staying here himself. He likely thought it would defeat me. Hell, I even thought I would lose. Therefore, it seems unlikely Yama would remain behind. He probably did leave and travel to another timeline. The Kolvaxian might have simply been his ''middle finger'' to this universe''s inhabitants. Perhaps the Mallali are acting on their own, or perhaps he pulled off one last scam to turn them against me! I won''t know until I make it top-side!

    Jos�� doesn''t bother telling Grundle about the Kolvaxian. Given the Admiral has already killed it, wasting his breath on explaining its existence to his somewhat dull-headed bodyguard wouldn''t do any good.

    "Sapphire knows what she''s doing..." Jos�� says, more to himself than the two Kraktol. "As long as we coordinate our forces, a fleet of 50th and pseudo-51st Era fighters can suppress even a highly trained fleet of 30th and 40th Era military veterans. The Mallali forces on Enchillon didn''t look like much, either. The Bloodbearer... it should be fine... it should be..."

    Despite his confident-sounding words, the Terran pales beneath his exterior as he imagines all sorts of nightmare scenarios.

    "We''re almost to the exit!" Grundle says.

    Jos�� keeps his rifle aimed forward, anticipating a last-minute Buzor attack.

    None appear.

    Within minutes, they break through to the surface, arriving topside smack in the dead of night. A pitch-blackness continues to swallow them just like in the underground complex, before.

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Jos�� immediately activates his cerebral transmitter.

    Umi! Come in! This is Admiral-

    Before he can finish thinking, a robotic message beams directly into his mind.

    Admiral Rodriguez. This is an automated message. The Mallali have surrounded the Bloodbearer. Do not attempt to return. Do not attempt to rescue the crew. We have fallen under siege for six days and seventeen hours. We have lost one hundred and seventeen interceptors. Main weapons are offline. Enemy personnel have boarded the ship. Multiple Mallali technicians have begun to hack into my data storages. I believe that their ultimate goal is to steal as many of my proprietary Ramaldian data files as they possibly can. I have created multiple backups in your cerebral storage as well as offsite data facilities. Any attempts by non-Terrans to access these storages will cause them to self-destruct.

    Umi''s automated message continues.

    Preserving your existence as the last Terran is my most important priority. The crew have agreed to give up their lives to buy time for your escape. They are your loyal soldiers. Do not allow their sacrifices to end in vain. Once I have enticed a significant number of Mallali personnel to come aboard the Bloodbearer, I will self-destruct the ship, claiming their lives. Remember your position as one of Ramma''s Chosen. You are humanity''s last hope. You are the only one who can pursue a future for your species.

    Message end.

    The Admiral freezes for a moment, shock lingering in his eyes.

    "No. No. NO!!"

    Before he can say anything else, Soren speaks. "Look! The upper atmosphere!"

    Jos�� raises his head. His pupils shrink to pinpricks as he spots small, scattered explosions erupting in the night sky. He zooms in with his retinal implants, allowing him to barely make out the glimmering of white-hot engines as hundreds of ships swarm around a central location.

    SYNTHMIND 4131! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE! The Admiral screams, projecting his mental voice in a wide-area transmission.

    A second later, the synthmind reassuringly answers him in its bland, monotone voice.

    Admiral Rodriguez. Synthmind Umi has required me to inform you that you have spent the past [TWENTY-SEVEN] days and [FOURTEEN] hours inside the former Ramaldius facility. In that time, the Mallali have crushed the Buzor invasion and come to attack the Bloodbearer. Judging by the volume of your command, I believe you have received her message.

    You bet your sweet ass I have! Jos�� bellows. Where are you?

    I will arrive at your position within [ONE] minute and [TWENTY-TWO] seconds. However, Admiral, I cannot allow you to return to the Bloodbearer. It has already fallen. Any resistance you might offer will amount to nothing. You cannot save the personnel left behi-

    That is for ME to judge! Just get your tin-can over here, NOW!

    The Admiral''s tone leaves no room for negotiation. As the Admiral silently wars with the robotic voice in his head, Soren and Grundle stare at him worriedly.

    "What''s going on up there?" Grundle asks. "Umi won''t return any of my transmission requests."

    "It''s bad. Really, really fucking bad!" Jos�� hisses. He squeezes his teeth together hard enough to turn his gums white. "Those... those bastard Mallali! I''ll kill them! I''ll rip them to pieces! I''ll fucking exterminate them! How dare they attack me after everything I''ve done for them?! I saved their galaxy! I fought a devil-damned Kolvaxian!"

    Unlike the calm, cool, and collected Admiral of the past, Jos��''s mental state seemingly devolves into a savage, brutal beast. He envisions himself reaching out and personally wringing the necks of every Mallali leader he met on Enchillon, along with their lieutenants, their yes-men, their kiss-ass suckup followers, their soldiers, and every other Mallali he''s ever met.

    "I spared you... I fucking spared you... and THIS is the thanks you show me?!"

    Soren and Grundle grow more worried by the second. Having not heard Umi''s transmission, they can only guess at the state of the Bloodbearer by Jos��''s words and actions. It doesn''t take them much imagination to understand the situation must have become utterly dire.

    The seconds slowly tick by, each one more excruciating than the last. Across the horizon, they spot a momentary flicker in the air, the only evidence of the stealth-class Slipstream''s arrival.

    The Admiral breathes heavily. He swallows deep gulps of air, while focusing his eyes on the ship''s approaching drive emissions.

    Hurry up! Crash-land if that''s what it takes!

    Yes, Admiral, Synthmind 4131 replies.

    The ship immediately accelerates. It flies toward the Admiral''s position and brakes, causing it to fall toward the ground at an alarming speed. The instant before landing, it activates all of its underside thrusters, blasting dirt and wind into the Terran''s face, along with the Kraktol. The momentary gust catches them off-guard, making them fall on their asses.

    "Oww!" Soren cries, as she lands on her severed tail-stump. "Ahh, Grundle, help me up! I can''t walk properly without my tail!"

    "Graugh! Yes! Hurry!"

    Grundle pulls Soren up. Then he turns to his Admiral, only to stop mid-movement and blink.

    "Huh? Admiral?"

    Jos��, having already jumped to his feet, scowls at Grundle. "What are you waiting for? Let''s go!"

    Grundle stares at him blankly. "But... but your arm..."

    The Admiral frowns, unsure what Grundle is talking about. "I lost it during the fight underground! This is no time for- what?"

    Reflexively, the Admiral raises his right arm to gesticulate, only to startle himself when he realizes it shouldn''t even exist. The Terran pauses for a moment, stumped by this unexpected development.

    "What... what the hell?"

    He scrutinizes his regrown arm, baffled at its fully complete and pristine condition, with skin as soft as a newborn baby''s.

    "I... I''m pretty sure my nanites can''t do that..."

    Soren glances at her own missing arm, then at the Admiral. "I don''t know how that happened... but Jos��, we still have to hurry!"

    The Admiral nods, but his eyes appear unfocused.

    "Right. Yes! We''ll worry about this on the way to space. Come on!"

    The Admiral and his two lieutenants rush onto the Slipstream, and it takes off, closing the entry hatch behind them.

    Once onboard, Synthmind 4131 speaks.

    "The Bloodbearer is in critical condition, Admiral. Umi has decisively disabled its long-range communication protocols to ensure you will not expose your position to the Mallali. She and the personnel onboard have committed themselves to stalling the Mallali for as long as possible to give you the best possible chance to escape."

    Jos�� gives his regenerated arm no more thought. Compared to the rage bubbling in his heart, its appearance means nothing to him.

    "Last I checked, I am the Admiral, not Umi. Take me to the Bloodbearer under full stealth. We will slip past the Mallali and enter guerilla combat mode. I will kill every intruder with my own two hands if I must!"

    "Admiral. You are currently exhibiting symptoms of extreme emotional distress. You are not thinking things through properly. If we return to the Bloodbearer, there is a [NINETY-NINE POINT NINE NINE NINE NINE] percent chance the Mallali will capture or kill you. I agree with Synthmind Umi''s choice to place your safety above that of the low-ranking crew. There are still countless Kraktol and Kessu in the galaxy. Their species will survive. However, if you perish, humanity will go extinct."

    "Fuck my species." Jos�� hisses. "We already went extinct once. We''re practically professionals at this point. What''s one more extinction event to add to the tally? Those Kessu and Kraktol aren''t just pawns I''ll throw away at my leisure. They''re my friends! And if I choose to save my skin while letting them die, I might as well not even call myself a human anymore! I''ll be no better than Yama! So you shut the fuck up and get me to the Bloodbearer ON THE DOUBLE."

    Synthmind 4131 pauses for a moment, as if considering other arguments.

    However, after a brief period, the Synthmind resigns itself to follow Jos��''s command.

    "Yes, Admiral. While I am not familiar with the intricacies of Terran psychology, I have scrutinized Umi''s data stores for my own research purposes. Your sense of camaraderie is perhaps your most inexplicable trait."

    Jos�� narrows his eyes. "You''re goddamn right."

    The Slipstream bursts out of Veter''s atmosphere. It rushes tens of kilometers away from the planet, where a rain of explosions falls upon the Bloodbearer''s hull.

    Within seconds, a hailing request appears on the Slipstream''s comms. Jos�� accepts it without hesitation.

    "Admiral Rodriguez," Umi says, her voice sounding just as bored as ever, despite the dire circumstances. "I have calculated that you might attempt to rescue your crew. Do not continue with your plans. I have rigged the Bloodbearer''s warp core to overload in twenty-seven minutes. The resulting explosion should destroy more than three thousand vessels within a ten kilometer radius. If you continue to approach, I will not be able to engage this last-ditch solution."

    "How many people are still alive?" Jos�� asks, ignoring her request. "How many, Umi?! Tell me!"

    The Synthmind hesitates for a split-second.

    "Casualties: Ninety-eight point three percent of the Bloodbearer''s crew have fallen. The rest will perish within the hour as the Mallali operatives make their way across our decks. Our troops are beaten and exhausted. Most survivors consist only of non-combatants, children, and a few scattered soldiers."

    Jos�� momentarily freezes up. Finally obtaining a clear confirmation of the death toll nearly causes his heart to stop as he gazes at the comm screen in shock.

    "No... no, that''s... that''s not possible! You''re a 50th-Era battle-carrier! You''re made for engaging vast enemy fleets! Umi, you worthless synthmind! How could you do this?! How could you fall to a bunch of stupid, shit-headed, ignorant Mallali savages?! These heretics wield ancient technology! Their warships-"

    "The Mallali warships are vastly more powerful than our intel anticipated," Umi interrupts. "I will transmit the data I have collected to you. Please take comfort in knowing that my self-destruction will ensure the deaths of millions of Mallali soldiers. I will leave the rest up to you in the coming years. You do not require my power to defeat these heretics, Admiral."

    A series of images and data sheets appears onscreen. Aided by his cerebral implants, Jos�� swiftly scans through them, his eyes shifting between shock and alarm.

    "What? A 45th-Era Judgment-class capitol ship? A 35th-Era Vindicator? And those two vessels, I recognize them! They''re the White and Black Death, 43rd-Era Dreadnoughts formerly owned by the Third Hand! How have the Mallali kept their existences a secret?!"

    Umi''s tone remains perfectly flat.

    "As I stated, Admiral. The Mallali have clutched their trump cards close to their chests. While none of these individual capitol ships can defeat the Bloodbearer in one-on-one combat, their might, when combined with thousands of reinforcing vessels, were able to overwhelm my defenses. There is no hope for our survival, Admiral. You must leave at-"

    The synthmind suddenly pauses mid-sentence, causing Jos��''s heart-rate to spike.

    "What is it?!"

    Before the Admiral can receive a reply, fifty blips appear on the Slipstream''s radar. A small fleet of stealth-craft, not quite as advanced as the Slipstream, but still capable of fooling its sensors, decloak from behind the frigate''s path of retreat.

    Umi immediately replies. "Admiral. Leave at once. The Mallali know about the Slipstream. They have spent the past week scanning this airspace for cloaked ships. You must escape before it is too late."

    Soren''s skin turns ashen. "...It already is."

    A comm request appears on the Slipstream''s forward display. Jos��''s expression turns ugly as he growls under his breath.

    "Onscreen."

    A moment later, the front panel changes, revealing a face that makes Soren and Grundle both nearly jump out of their scales.

    "Admiral Rodriguez. Kyargh! We finally meet."

    A black-scaled Kraktol female, someone with scales which harken back to Yama''s shadowy features, puffs up her chest and seemingly looks down upon the Admiral and his two lieutenants, as if smirking at a trio of ants.

    Despite never having seen her in the flesh, Jos�� recognizes the Kraktol from countless holo-recordings and intel reports he''s observed.

    His rage immediately vanishes. In its place, a frighteningly calm look of tepid anticipation arises.

    Jos�� smiles evilly, his expression turning sinister.

    "Loreen Kindris. The Kraktol''s almighty Th��lvik."

 Chapter 79: The Th眉lviks Precautions

    Loreen Kindris, the Th��lvik, supreme leader of the Kraktol, stands inside the Bloodbearer''s hangar bay with her chest puffed out and a look of victory stretched across her face. Beside her stands a large wolf-like Dakkit, someone who comes up nearly two feet shorter than Loreen, yet still manages to look only slightly less intimidating than her. With his white fur and werewolf-like appearance, he resembles a fierce predator, someone who might casually tear out the throat of those who anger him.

    All around the hangar bay, hundreds of Kraktol, Dakkit, and Avaru work together to pile up and separate the bodies of the dead, including their own soldiers, as well as the brave Kessu and Kraktol who fought tooth and nail to protect their home. Mountains of corpses lie haphazardly strewn about, their drying blood stuck to the deckplates and staining the walls.

    In front of the Th��lvik, a tiny hovering drone floats in midair, projecting an image of three figures, the current crew aboard the Slipstream. Admiral Rodriguez, Grundle, and Soren.

    "Loreen Kindris..." Jos�� hisses, barely containing his anger. "The Kraktol''s almighty Th��lvik. What the hell have you done?"

    "Admiral Rodriguez. It is a pleasure to meet you," Loreen says, as she confidently smiles. "It''s too bad our first encounter had to be under these circumstances, but you were the one who foolishly awakened the greed of the Mallali higher-ups."

    "I don''t want to hear your bullshit!" Jos�� bellows. "You goddamned monster! You''ve killed my crew! My friends! Your fellow Kraktol!"

    "Kyargh! Those who turn against their Th��lvik will always receive the punishment they deserve," Loreen says, shooting a meaningful glance at Soren and Grundle. "In any case, we''ve captured a few of your devotees. If you give me what I want, I will hand them to you, safe and sound."

    "You''re not getting a goddamn thing from me." Jos�� states. "Not one thing, except the ass-kicking of a lifetime. You don''t even know what you''ve done. There is no place you can hide in this galaxy. There are no safe harbors, no defenses capable of slowing me down. If you somehow live past today, I will make sure you spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder. You will never again enjoy a good night''s sleep."

    Admiral Rodriguez fires a salvo of threats at Loreen. She momentarily frowns, before returning to her confident smile.

    "Yes, you are quite a terrifying creature," Loreen acknowledges. "But before you come at me with your guns blazing, I have something that might make you pause."

    Loreen turns to the Dakkit werewolf-looking fellow at her side.

    "Bring over the prisoner."

    The Dakkit glowers at her. "Do not think you can order me around, Loreen Kindris. My father-"

    "You are not the Alfras," Loreen snaps. "I lead this expedition. That means you answer to me. Now move your tail."

    The Dakkit doesn''t flinch, even under the withering glare of a crocodile two feet taller than him. However, after a few seconds of maintaining eye contact, he turns and struts away. Half a minute later, he and two Kraktol elites drag over a beaten and bloodied female Kraktol, someone with dull-looking blue scales.

    Jos��''s eyebrows leap up in alarm. "Sapphire! Loreen, you coward!"

    The two Kraktol elites shove Sapphire to her knees while pressing carbines against the back of her skull. She hangs her head limply, clearly exhausted beyond belief. Her body''s condition tells a tale of days of endless combat until she finally succumbed to her injuries.

    "I am no coward," Loreen counters. "Kyargh! I am a cunning predator, even moreso than you. Stupid human. If not for your idiotic decision to strut into the Mallali''s secret base while speaking of your ship''s vast wealth, their greed might never have overcame their fear. They wouldn''t have approached me to collaborate. But you did, and so, they did. You''ve nobody else to blame but yourself!"

    Sapphire slightly raises her head. She gazes at the hovering visage of the Admiral before her, then lowers her eyes.

    "Darling... run... away..."

    Jos��''s eyes twitch. He gazes at the broken figure of the Kraktol who adores him the most, feeling his heart split in half.

    "What do you want from me?"

    "You already know what I want," Loreen answers. "The command and access codes to this vessel. Your synthmind''s programming has proven remarkably difficult for even our best technicians to crack. We''re no Kessu, after all. The Dakkit, Kraktol, and other Sentients never focused their efforts on hacking Precursor technology, not like those mangy furballs. If you give me the command codes, I will hand over the remaining survivors of our attack. But if you don''t? We''ll break through eventually, even if it takes us a century."

    Admiral Rodriguez stares at Loreen for several seconds without speaking. His eyes bore into her skull, as if deducing her thoughts.

    "You slaughtered my crew. You killed my friends. You even used a hostage to try and hold me back. You''re afraid, Loreen. You should be. I''ll give you exactly what you deserve."

    Loreen smirks. "Oh? How ominous. And what exactly do you mean by-"

    Before she can finish her sentence, the holographic emitter shuts off, causing the Admiral and his two companions to vanish.

    Momentarily stumped, Loreen''s smirk turns into a scowl.

    "Don''t tell me the stupid bastard would rather commit suicide than accept my generous offer? Kyargh! The Terran is far too confident for his own good. If he chooses to fight, he shall be outnumbered ten thousand to one!"

    The two elite Kraktol holding Sapphire hostage both hesitate.

    "Forgive me, great Th��lvik," One of them says. "But why must you come here in person? The Mallali have informed us of the Terran''s formidable infiltration capabilities. He even fought the Demon Emperor alone. Why wouldn''t you stay away from this hangar? You needlessly place your life in peril."

    "I know what I am doing," Loreen answers, her tone mild. "Worry not. Kyargh! This Terran might be a monster, but I had to make an appearance if I wished to scavenge any technology for our people. Besides... I never accept a losing bet. Even if I fall here, I have made many... preparations."

    The Dakkit werewolf-looking fellow turns to glower at her. "You might presently command the scavenging operations, mighty Th��lvik, but to my people, you are little more than a nuisance. Stop acting as if your scales will soon eclipse the sun. My father only took pity on you because your ramshackle, 3rd-Era war fleet sullied his eyes. Space peasant!"

    The young werewolf''s words splash against Loreen harmlessly, like a fine mist on a summer''s morning. She glances at the Dakkit with a look of disdain.

    "Little puppy, Maximillian. You might think of yourself as a fearsome hunter, but compared to the average Kraktol, you are nothing at all. Watch the words you bark, lest my guards take offense. I would hate for you to suffer a ''diplomatic incident.''"

    The Dakkit, Maximillian, doesn''t back down. "Some day, my father will retire, and I will take his place. When I become the Alfras, you will regret not playing nice with me."

    "Daddy dearest still has a few centuries left in him," Loreen replies. "And who knows what might happen in that time?"

    "Are you threatening me?" Maximillian growls. "I do not fear you."

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    The Th��lvik exposes her teeth. "Smarter Mallali have made the same mistake. I hope, for your sake, you do not end up where they did."

    Three tense seconds pass as the Th��lvik stares down the Dakkit more than a head smaller than her. Finally, she turns away.

    "It''s too bad, Maximillian. If your father had half your guts, I might actually respect the old hound."

    "I''ll take that as a compliment." Maximillian grunts. He turns his attention toward the air-shield leading outside the Bloodbearer''s hangar bay.

    "Lady Kindris," A Kraktol female says, as she runs up from behind the Th��lvik. "The Terran''s stealth-craft has begun flying toward the Bloodbearer. He will arrive here within the next few minutes."

    "So he took the bait," Loreen chuckles. "Excellent. Kyargh! Bring me the Matriarch''s Armor. I must prepare myself for his arrival. There''s no telling what tricks the rabid mutt might try."

    Maximillian flicks his ears in annoyance at Loreen''s slight, but remains silent as one of her two elite guards splits off, leaving the other to continue holding Sapphire hostage.

    The blue-scaled female sighs wistfully, having lost her will to fight back.

    "Th��lvik... why... why have you... done this...?"

    Loreen glances at her helpless half-daughter, someone who descended from Drall, yet had nothing to do with Loreen herself.

    "Ungrateful, murderous spawnling." Loreen says. "You slew your own father. You killed my beloved mate. As the Th��lvik, I have always had to keep my feelings bottled up. I have always had to act as a bulwark for my people. It was only when I was with Drall that I could be myself. Yet you killed him. You are lucky I have not subjected you to the worst torture imaginable, but worry not, for that will soon change. Once your beloved Precursor steps into this hangar, he will never leave here alive. I will ensure you watch as I flay the skin from his bones."

    Sapphire raises her head. "No... you can''t! Darling is a good man! He always treated the Kraktol as friends. It isn''t his fault Drall died. It''s all mine! Punish me!"

    "I will!" Loreen answers. "Him, Soren, that insipid janitor, and all the remainder of my children who cast me aside to follow this false prophet."

    Sapphire hangs her head. Tears well up in her eyes as she agonizes over her past choices.

    If only I had stayed with Darling. If only I had gone with him into the tunnels. I should never have come back here.

    Several Kraktol in the distance chatter among each other as they spot the approaching figure of the Slipstream, weaving its way through space to approach the Bloodbearer''s hangar bay. Before it arrives, Loreen''s elite warrior returns, pushing a heavy metal crate atop a hovering drone.

    "Th��lvik."

    Loreen turns away from the Kraktol she detests most to face her elite warrior. She waits as he cracks open the crate, revealing a set of visually-stunning obsidian-colored armor.

    Maximillian frowns. The Alfras''s son walks over to the crate and glances inside, then raises his eyes to meet Loreen''s.

    "What is this? I have never seen such an incredible set of armor! It doesn''t even appear to be of Precursor design!"

    Loreen meets his gaze. "I''m surprised your papa never told you. This armor is something that was passed down to my mother from her mother. It is the Matriarch Armor, crafted from indestructible materials now lost to this galaxy. My people escaped bondage because the first Th��lvik found it deep within a hidden cache. Its powers are... formidable, though difficult to control."

    Loreen reaches into the metal crate. She pulls out the pitch-black armor, revealing it to be a one-piece set made from highly advanced exotics. A menacing aura drifts from its confines, causing all of the Sentients within a hundred-meter radius to experience significant mental discomfort.

    "By the ancestors!" Maximillian cries. "Borf! What an evil aura! How can a mere set of armor possess such terrifying properties?"

    Loreen cocks her head.

    "Hm. I don''t know, and it doesn''t matter. All that matters is whether or not this armor will give me the strength to crush the Precursor. Of that, I have little doubt."

    Loreen holds up the powerful armor, momentarily basking in its insidious aura. Its exterior feels less like any known metal alloy, and more like an ultra-hardened rock, something which even a battleship-class laser might not necessarily penetrate.

    She presses a button on the armor''s back, causing it to snap open, like the jaws of a monster looking to gorge on flesh. She pushes it against her body, and the armor instantly snaps closed, swallowing her whole. It adjusts its size and shape, conforming to her body''s contours and enveloping her head. She transforms from a tough body made of flesh and scales into a seemingly invincible one protected by an alloy lost even to the Precursors.

    A spike sticks out of each of her shoulder pauldrons. The various edges and contours of the armor''s plating taper off into razor-sharp blades, giving her defense an offensive touch.

    "My god..." Maximillian mutters, as he takes a step back. "How could you obtain something like this?!"

    "You look scared," Loreen remarks, her voice slightly muffled by her helmet. "I''ll let you in on a secret, little puppy. Your father could easily invade Dragua. His war-fleets possess the power to blast Dragua''s continents into the sea, yet he doesn''t. Can you guess why that is?"

    Loreen only pauses momentarily before continuing.

    "It''s because he knows about this armor. Many tried to slay my grandmother. All of them failed. His mightiest assassins were as threatening to her as the bones she used to pick her teeth. So long as I possess this armor, your father will never dare to attack me without a good reason. If I survive his assassination attempt, he will fear my coming, just as the Terran hopes I will fear him."

    Behind the Th��lvik, the Slipstream glides into the hangar bay, entering with a faint whoomph as it passes through the oxygen-shield preventing the vacuum of space from sucking everyone outside.

    "But so long as I possess the Matriarch''s Armor, I fear no enemy," Loreen adds. "Not the Terran, not your father, and certainly not you. So keep quiet and let me do the talking. I''ll remind the Terran of why even your father defers to me when it comes to infantry warfare."

    For the first time, Maximillian appears somewhat mollified. He backs off from his aggressive stance, flattening his ears while deferring to the Th��lvik''s might.

    "Borf... very well. You, ah, seem to have things under control."

    "Yes. I do."

    Loreen turns to look at her elite soldiers. She jerks her head toward Sapphire, making them both return to guarding the prisoner.

    "Keep an eye on this errant child. I have a feeling the Terran won''t go quietly into that good night. No doubt, he''ll try to mount some pathetic rescue attempt. If he comes within striking distance..."

    Loreen raises her thumb. She makes a cutting motion across her throat, to which both of her elite soldiers receive the message.

    "Yes, great Th��lvik."

    The Th��lvik glances at Sapphire. "Let us hope your wretched lover knows better than to piss me off. If he gives me what I want, I may yet show you mercy."

    Sapphire glares at Loreen. "You won''t."

    The Slipstream''s landing struts gently press against the deckplates, allowing it to land without making a sound.

    Several seconds pass. Loreen gazes across the hanger as rows upon rows of Kraktol, Dakkit, and Avaru soldiers line up, taking aim at the Slipstream''s entry hatch while they wait for it to open. The Avaru flap their wings and take to the catwalks above, obtaining elevated positions as they ready themselves to snipe the Precursor if he so much as twitches a muscle the wrong way.

    Several seconds pass. The Slipstream''s hatch doesn''t open.

    Loreen frowns.

    "Come out, Terran. Don''t make any hasty moves. I know what you can do. No tricks!"

    She calls out to him, confident the Slipstream''s microphones will transmit her words inside.

    Eventually, the hatch hisses open. The Slipstream''s exit ramp slides downward, revealing a single figure at the top.

    Instead of the Precursor, a tall, menacing-looking Kraktol clad in 50th-Era Enforcer armor stands proudly, his chest puffed out.

    Grundle, Second Officer of the Bloodbearer, slowly stomps down the ramp, each footstep causing the heartbeats of his fellow Kraktol to tremble. Many of them widen their eyes as they stare in shock at the goliath before them. While he may have only been a mere mechanic, deckhand, and janitor aboard the Red-Tongue, his violent shift in physique proves startling. He stands only an inch or two shorter than the Th��lvik herself, and his glimmering armor appears no less impressive.

    "Graugh!" Grundle growls, as he slowly strides down the ramp. "Pathetic worms! Useless invalids! Gaze upon me and tremble in terror! I am Admiral Rodriguez''s right-hand Kraktol! I am his sword and shield! How dare you point your puny guns at me! Do you think those toys will lay a scratch upon my body? I am invincible! Unstoppable! And yet, compared to the Precursor himself, I am nothing but a gnat! You fools! You have killed my comrades! My brothers and sisters!"

    Grundle raises his arm. He stops halfway down the ramp and points his finger at the Kraktol and Mallali before him, sweeping his arm from left to right.

    "You murdering bastards! You have attacked my people, my friends, and thus, my Admiral! There is no salvation for you! There is no honor, no glory! You will all fall before me like wheat to the chaff!"

    Loreen smirks. "Watch yourself, little janitor! I would stop with that bravado if I were you. Do you want Sapphire''s brains to coat the deck?"

    Grundle swivels his head to look at Loreen, but his helmet provides no clues as to his mood.

    "Graugh! Loreen Kindris, I looked up to you, once. I worshiped you as a god, but no more! Now, I follow a new master! I walk in the footsteps of my savior, who showed me ten thousand times the care you ever did! I don''t fear you, nor do I fear anyone! I challenge you, Loreen Kindris! I challenge you for the title of Th��lvik and the right to rule our people!"

    Momentarily stumped, Loreen merely raises her eyebrows.

    "Imbecile. ''Th��lvik'' is not merely a title. It is a birthright! Kyargh! You are not female, nor are you a daughter of the first Th��lvik. You are nothing more than a drugged-up swamp-child following the orders of a walking corpse. Stop with this play-acting. Where is the Terran? Tell the bastard to show himself."

    Hardly have the words left Loreen''s mouth, before a faint swishing-sound displaces the air to her immediate left.

    Foop.

    Loreen turns her head to look in that direction, only for an invisible fist to crash against her helmet.

    CLANG!

    The Thulvik jerks violently, tripping over her feet and staggering to the side before landing in a heap, her powerful visage momentarily disturbed by the unexpected assault.

    Her assailant roars at her, his voice erupting with fury.

    "I''M RIGHT HERE!"

 Chapter 80: Tricky Terran Tactics

    In a single second, everything changes within the Bloodbearer''s hangar bay. The eyes of countless Kraktol, Mallali, and Avaru, previously locked onto Grundle during his theatrics, fail to perceive the invisible figure teleporting behind their ranks. Admiral Rodriguez condenses all of his Dermal Armor onto his fist in order to deliver a blow so violent that it completely knocks Loreen Kindris off her feet.

    The sound, like a gong ringing in the dead of night, becomes even more punctuated by the Admiral''s bloodthirsty roar.

    "I''M RIGHT HERE!"

    Immediately, half of the assembled troopers whirl around in confusion to see the leader of the Bloodbearer''s invasion force fallen flat on her tail, while the son of the Alfras, Maximillian, jumps away from Loreen in surprise.

    "It''s the Terran!" He exclaims, stating the obvious more as a matter of reflex than for any other reason. "G-get him!"

    Two hundred Kraktol react faster than their Mallali and Avaru cohorts. They swivel around to aim their guns in Loreen''s general vicinity, only to immediately pause. Not one of them sees the attacker who struck their Th��lvik, making them wonder where the heck the Terran went.

    "He''s invisible!" The Alfras''s son adds, while drawing a shortsword from his belt. This weapon, crafted by some of the finest metallurgists of the Trellut Empire, sports a powerful energy current along its edge, granting it the ability to slice through many types of exotic armors, though he still hesitates to swing it at his unseen enemy.

    As the Kraktol warriors pause and the Alfras''s son hesitates, Loreen reacts, pushing off the ground with her tail to leap to her feet. She swipes her claws toward the direction she last perceived Admiral Rodriguez, but ends up only striking the empty air.

    "Yellow-bellied Terran! Show yourself!" Loreen roars. She turns to look at Sapphire, just in time to hear a displacement of air next to the blue-scaled female Kraktol.

    Foop.

    A faint shimmer in the air is all Loreen sees before Admiral Rodriguez turns the sides of his hands into nano-steel. He sharpens them to a fine edge, then slashes his arms at both of Loreen''s elite Kraktol guards. Before they can execute Sapphire, the Terran''s blade-hands swipe through their necks, instantly severing their heads from their bodies.

    All hell breaks loose. Loreen''s other soldiers jump in fright when they see the heads of her two finest guards fly off their torsos. They aim their guns in the general direction of where the Admiral might be and pull the trigger, but their mass of bullets fly through the airspace, missing his invisible figure entirely. Even worse, those bullets and beams travel all the way to the other side of the hangar, where countless auxiliary personnel assigned to cleaning up bodies, cataloguing equipment, and other scavenging duties stand.

    BLAM-BLAM-BLAM!

    In an instant, fifty Kraktol and Mallali personnel perish due to accidental crossfire. Instead of sniping the Terran, Loreen''s troopers kill their own comrades, making them pause in alarm as they recognize their blunder.

    "W-we missed! Where did the Terran go?!"

    "He''s a ghost!"

    Loreen''s eyes turn bloodshot. She starts to rush toward Sapphire, only for a faint shimmer to appear in the air before her.

    THUNK!

    Jos�� kicks Loreen in the chest, using his incredible strength to send her flying backward! The Th��lvik crashes into half a dozen metal crates stacked up against one of the hangar bay''s support pillars, landing in a heap.

    Then, Jos�� throws a small cube onto the floor next to Sapphire. In a single second, a powerful 50th-Era force-field engulfs the blue-scaled girl, protecting her from any stray or intentional shots.

    "Don''t worry!" Jos�� shouts. "I won''t let you die here! I won''t let ANYONE else die today!"

    Sapphire raises her eyes. "Darling..."

    At the same time as Jos�� tears through Loreen''s backlines, an equally fearsome monster begins his rampage. Grundle, taking advantage of the confusion, leaps skyward. He pounces at the various bird-like Avaru perched on the catwalks, scaring all of them half to death.

    "GRAUGH! Stupid bastards! You pissed off my Admiral, and that means you pissed off ME!"

    He grabs onto the bottom of one catwalk, then yanks himself to the top. A hail of gunfire crashes against his gleaming 50th-Era armor, but its durability proves incredible as every shot merely glances off and ricochets into the distance.

    "Pathetic pea-shooters! Weak little feather-dusters! You are nothing more than prey thinking themselves the hunters!"

    Grundle storms toward several crow-like and eagle-looking Avaru. He grabs them by their necks, twists his wrists, and kills them with quick snapping motions. Systematically, like a machine meant for slaughtering the weak, he terrorizes the snipers, making them rue the days they were born.

    At the same time, Admiral Rodriguez finds himself faced with a surprising adversary. Maximillian finally recovers from his surprise at the Terran''s appearance. He sniffs the air, using his superior olfactory senses to perceive the Terran''s location. When Jos�� teleports to the Dakkit''s side, Maximillian instantly whirls around and slashes his sword at the Precursor''s position, forcing the Admiral to take a step back.

    "Do not underestimate me!" Maximillian howls. "I am no weakling! I am superior to my father!"

    He lunges toward the Precursor, swinging his sword in short, choppy arcs. He minimizes any chances the Terran might have to strike his blind spots, all while keeping an eye out for Jos��''s teleportation.

    After a few seconds of furious combat, Jos�� whips his head to the side. He spots Loreen charging at him, hatred in her eyes.

    "Show yourself, Terran! Do not hide in the shadows like a coward!"

    Loreen''s heavily armored body appears ten times more intimidating than Maximillian''s unarmored form. However, it is not fear Jos�� feels, but anger.

    He teleports backward, allowing Loreen''s claws to swipe at his afterimage.

    "Now look at who slings accusations of cowardice!" Jos�� says. "What was it you said? Aren''t you supposed to be a cunning predator, even more so than me? You''re seven thousand years too young to deserve such a boast!"

    The Alfras''s son and Th��lvik quickly work together to chase after the Terran. Jos�� teleports several times, dodging stray bullets as Loreen''s soldiers, the Mallali and the Avaru struggle to decide whether they should shoot at the invisible monster and risk hitting their own people in the crossfire, or the goddamned unstoppable one rampaging above their heads.

    Grundle rips bodies in half. Simply by virtue of being a tangible target, he draws a huge volume of fire away from his Admiral, though only the strongest armor-piercing rounds even manage to chip or dent his Enforcer garb beyond the superficial level.

    Loreen narrows her eyes. "Clever words, Terran. But you''re outnumbered and outmatched! I know all your tricks!"

    Jos�� grins evilly, despite Loreen being unable to see his expression.

    "All of them?"

    At that moment, inside the Slipstream, Soren hunkers down next to the exit hatch, carefully keeping an eye on the chaos outside.

    Synthmind 4131 speaks. "Officer Mudrose. The Admiral has transmitted the command to initiate Phase [TWO] of the Show No Mercy initiative."

    Soren clutches five small orbs in her left hand. These devices, similar to the ones used to protect the Kessu when they escaped Yama''s underground lair, possess a fearsome ability, one Soren unleashes by throwing them out of the Slipstream''s entry-hatch and down its ramp.

    With the Admiral and Grundle sowing so much chaos, none of the Mallali, Kraktol, or Avaru pays the slightest attention to the orbs as they roll to the bottom of the ramp and activate.

    A moment later, the orbs levitate into the air, while five holographic Terrans appear, all of them sharing the same appearance as the Admiral.

    Each of them speaks a confirmation code.

    "Holographic Protectorate 001 activated."

    "Holographic Protectorate 002 activated."

    "Holographic Protectorate 003 activated."

    "Holographic Protectorate 004 activated."

    "Holographic Protectorate 005 activated."

    Then, they speak in unison, having already obtained their pre-determined instructions.

    "Mission parameters updated. Heretical threats to United Terran Coalition members detected. Allied coalition members added to whitelist. Enemies identified."

    Two of the Protectorates shift their arms into metallic guns with three, long pointy barbs at the end. Another one summons a photonic sniper rifle. The last two summon pairs of vicious-looking serrated-blade swords meant more for ripping flesh apart than for cutting into it.

    "Exterminate all heretics."

    By the time the enemy forces recognize the danger in their midst, many of them act too late to save themselves. Powerful bolts of lightning fire from the weapons of the first two Protectorates, detonating the bodies of Mallali and Kraktol alike as if they were living bombs. They ignite a momentary nuclear force within their victims, condensing all of their caloric energy into a micro-singularity.

    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    SPLAT!

    Dozens of Mallali and Kraktol perish wordlessly, not getting even a millisecond to react before their bodies erupt, spraying blood and gore in all directions. The sudden and shocking change of battle intensity scares the survivors out of their wits. Never have any of them witnessed such a horrifying display of tyrannical power.

    Then, the other three Protectorates attack.

    One of them aims its sniper rifle with mechanical precision. Each second, it blows the heads off the most heavily-armored enemies, killing them before they can even attempt to dodge. Blinding white beams tear through the skulls and helmets of the mightiest defenders, splattering their brains effortlessly.

    The other two stomp forward and begin slashing their blades from left to right, ripping into the lightest-armored enemies with expressions wavering between boredom and complete apathy.

    Killing is their job. It is a task they must fulfill. There is no good or evil.

    There are only heretics to slaughter.

    As Grundle takes down the Avaru perched above and the five Protectorates wipe out the ground forces, Jos�� continues to face off against Loreen and Maximillian.

    The Admiral finds that their combined teamwork isn''t shabby at all, despite neither of them having ever fought together before. While paling in comparison to Ramaldian standards, Loreen acts as an effective tank, blocking any of the Admiral''s deadliest attacks through her strange, black-colored Matriarch Armor, while Maximillian does his best to chop at the Terran and skewer him to death. The Dakkit''s confounding ability to smell Jos�� no matter where he teleports continuously infuriates the Admiral.

    However, their teamwork isn''t the true reason the Admiral fails to land a killing blow.

    "Loreen!" Jos�� roars, after managing a somewhat-weak kick to the Dakkit''s side and knocking him back. "Do you even know what that armor is?! You goddamned heretic! How dare you bring that blaspheming idol back to the mortal realm!"

    Loreen grins. "I may not know where this armor originates, but you''ve given me a pretty good idea thanks to all your recent escapades. It''s demonic, perhaps belonging to one of those ancient Demon Emperors you fear so much. Isn''t that right?"

    "You know, and yet you still choose to wear it?!" Jos�� asks. "You''ve fallen further than I thought!"

    Loreen flicks her eyes toward the force-field protecting Sapphire. Jos�� starts to teleport toward Maximillian, intending to finish him off, only to give up when he spots the Th��lvik moving toward the hostage he''s spent several minutes trying to protect. He teleports to Loreen''s side and kicks her away from Sapphire, then pulls out a small grenade, waiting for the right opportunity to use it.

    Despite once again failing to make it to her prisoner, and despite the Admiral''s bag of tricks proving even deeper than she expected, Loreen doesn''t lose even an ounce of confidence. She smiles devilishly, relishing the alarm in Jos��''s voice.

    "Are you afraid of the big bad demon armor?" Loreen taunts him. "Here! Let me give you a reason to feel fear!"

    Loreen raises her right hand. She aims her palm upward and curves her claws. Demonic energy condenses from the armor''s interior, materializes in her grasp, and transforms into an energetic ball of lightning.

    "This Matriarch Armor has won my family many wars!" Loreen laughs. "And now, it will slay its greatest foe yet! A living, breathing Precursor!"

    Loreen stomps toward Jos�� and thrusts her palm forward. Though she doesn''t know his exact position, she launches her attack in such a way that even if he avoids it, the ball of electricity will fly at Sapphire''s force-field!

    "Dodge if you want, human! But you''d better hope that shield can take a hit!"

    Loreen''s warning, somewhat nonsensical given the purpose of a force-field, doesn''t strike the Admiral as idiotic.

    That''s no normal electrical attack! The Admiral thinks. It''s mana-based! It might bypass the shield entirely! I can''t take a chance with Sapphire''s life!

    Instead of leaping away and allowing the force-field to do its job, the Admiral takes a big risk. He stands in Loreen''s way and grabs at her wrist, hoping to deflect her attack or throw her off-balance. Instead, he falls for her trap as she closes her palm and discharges the energy all across her body, sending it coursing into the Terran''s arm.

    "Aaaargh!"

    Jos�� instantly releases his grip and jumps backward, but his gait appears unnatural. The stealth module keeping him invisible fizzles out, ruined by the Th��lvik''s quick thinking.

    "There you are!" Loreen growls, as her eyes lock onto her now-visible prey. "Finally, I can look you in the eyes when I rip out your heart!"

    Maximillian jumps to his feet. He and Loreen rush toward the Terran during his moment of weakness as the Admiral staggers backward, his nerves clenching up reflexively due to the hit he just suffered.

    Right before they can close the distance, Loreen''s eyes flick upward. She instantly reverses her movement and grabs Maximillian, yanking him backward, just in time to avoid a falling figure.

    BOOM!

    Grundle, having cleaned up the catwalks, crashes feet-first into the floor where his enemies stood only a split-second earlier. He growls in annoyance at failing to stomp their bodies into paste, but settles for the next best thing.

    "Graugh! Loreen Kindris, your opponent is me! I am the mightiest Kraktol, and today I shall ruin your body in the eyes of our people!"

    Loreen, finally seeing the former janitor up close and in person, takes a moment to marvel at the incredible changes to his physique.

    "Kyargh! Defector! It seems the Terran juiced you up nicely! Too bad for you, while you needed Terran sorcery to reach your peak, my body was formed naturally due to my rich bloodline. You will never be my match!"

    "We shall see." Grundle states.

    He stands protectively in front of his Admiral and Sapphire, blocking them from Loreen and Maximillian''s lines of sight.

    "Watch out!" Jos�� exclaims. "Loreen is wearing armor which once belonged to the Demon Emperor, Ose. It can control lightning!"

    "Do not worry about me, Admiral," Grundle says. "Save my sister. Save Sapphire!"

    Jos�� drops the force-field protecting Sapphire. While Grundle initiates a brutal melee with his former Th��lvik, his Admiral starts escorting Sapphire toward the Slipstream some hundred meters away. The stench of death lingers in the air as Admiral Rodriguez''s five doppelgangers systematically blast and shred their enemies apart with robotic efficiency. Bolts of lightning, proton beams, and four bloodied sabers cut down and kill all of the Mallali and Kraktol warriors, with few of them presenting any threat to the Admiral''s holographic clones.

    While Jos��''s armor ended up destroyed by the Kolvaxian, Grundle''s remains in pristine condition. He engages in a brutal melee with his former Th��lvik, each of them battering each other from left to right, while Grundle half-ignores the Alfras''s son''s swordplay. Only a stab into the gaps of Grundle''s armor might injure him, but otherwise, Maximillian''s blade presents no danger to the giant crocodile.

    "I will never forgive you!" Grundle roars at Loreen. "Graugh! You murdered my friends! You killed your own children! I will break your body so that your soul learns humility!"

    His fists crash against Loreen''s head and chest, knocking her back. She retaliates with tail-swipes, punches, and kicks of her own. Their feet leave shallow depressions in the Bloodbearer''s floor-panels, evidence of their heavy armor and powerful bodies.

    "You''re nothing more than a deck-hand! A disgrace! Drall should have killed you when he had the chance!" Loreen retorts.

    "Good thing I am a gentleman," Grundle replies. "I''ll let you two reunite in the Forbidden Swamp!"

    ...

    Outside the Bloodbearer, dozens of ships circle around like vultures looking for easy pickings. The Mallali and Kraktol don''t remain blind or oblivious to the happenings inside.

    A dozen troop-transports fly into the hangar, depositing several thousand fresh bodies to rush toward the Admiral. Elsewhere inside the Bloodbearer''s countless halls, the troops on standby receive orders to regroup and meet up with their remaining comrades inside the hangar. Thousands of auxiliary troopers storm down the halls, their footsteps like the beating of drums. This combined pincer attack takes only minutes to fully activate after receiving word of the Terran''s brutal onslaught.

    On the bridge of the Dakkit''s flagship, several Mallali leaders sit at a table filled with food as they watch video feeds detailing the battle inside the Bloodbearer''s hangar bay. The videos typically come from distant or elevated positions, with auxiliary troopers transmitting their feeds to the military commanders remotely. However, the feeds don''t show too many grisly details, as they would hate to spoil the Alfras''s lunch.

    The Alfras himself, Sir Benjiro, chomps onto a fat piece of meat, paying little attention to the brutal massacre of his troopers. Only occasionally does he lift his head to glance at the viewscreen.

    "Grawf! Goodness, haven''t they killed that Terran yet? Loreen sounded so confident, yet look at how she struggles!"

    His advisor, the same secretary Jos�� once impersonated, Ferund Carrus, stands by his side, looking mildly displeased. The Dobermann-like Dakkit clears his throat.

    "Hmm, yes, the big brute does know how to put up a fight. Our forces report that the Terran has unleashed several ingenious weapons upon us. Why, just look at those five holographic bodies. You wouldn''t expect mere holograms to possess such terrifying killing potential, yet there you have it."

    Leevoo the Observant, the Cheemu Merchant Queen, flips out her tongue toward a juicy piece of fruit, then yanks it back into her mouth, gulping it down in one bite.

    "Mlerp! Think of all the uses for the Terran''s technology! These weapons will keep us atop the galaxy''s hierarchy for millennia to come! Once our people reverse-engineer those holo-droids, we''ll never lose another infantry war ever again!"

    Benjiro appears less impressed. "They are only tools. Grawf! Don''t put too much stock into guns and robots. I still worry we won''t catch this Terran. What if he survives? What if he slips through my paws? Ferund, boy! Put Commander Lester onscreen."

    The Alfras''s secretary hesitates.

    "...Ah. Commander Lester is... dead, master."

    "What? Dead?! Since when?"

    Ferund winces. "Since three minutes ago, sir. The Terran''s Kraktol minion tore him apart."

    "Oh, god-blast it!" Benjiro growls. "Put Lieutenant Shelby onscreen, then."

    Ferund does his best to avoid face-pawing. "...She''s dead too, sir."

    "You''re kidding! Grawf! Then who''s still alive?"

    "Not many who were there when the Terran first attacked, my lord. He''s quite vicious."

    "Well, put someone onscreen, then!"

    The Alfras barks in annoyance at his secretary. After a few moments, a nervous-looking Mallali appears onscreen, someone resembling a red-furred fox. She stands inside one of the landing ship''s cabins, while dozens of troopers file past her to rush into the Bloodbearer''s hangar.

    "My lord!" Says the female officer.

    "Who are you?" Benjiro asks. "You''re not a Dakkit!"

    "Forgive me, my lord," She replies, clearly nervous. "B-but I am the most senior Mallali available! The best Dakkit generals and lieutenants have... met their ends. I am Forward Division Officer, Scarlett."

    "Fine! Whatever!" Benjiro yells, now too annoyed to finish his food. "Grawf! What''s taking so long? Why haven''t you beaten the Terran yet? Kill or capture him, I don''t care which!"

    "My apologies, sir!" She says. "We''ve just landed five thousand more troops to continue the assault! The strange holo-bots are difficult to take down, but we''re doing our best!"

    "I don''t want your best!" Benjiro barks, slapping his paw against the table. "I want that Terran in pieces or in chains!"

    She nods. "Yes, my lord. I''ll-"

    An instant later, the officer''s body explodes.

    A bolt of electricity lances into her seemingly protected position inside one of the landing shuttles, detonating her skin and bones like a bomb and blasting gory chunks in every direction, coating the interior of the shuttle in a horrifying blood-paste. The Alfras jerks back in shock, watching with wide eyes as an expressionless Protectorate marches into the camera''s frame. It sweeps its head from side to side while firing nonstop electrical blasts. Horror-filled screams fill the room as the Mallali troopers cry out in fear, only to cease when the death machine slays them next.

    A minute later, the Protectorate marches offscreen, silently murdering every biological entity in its vicinity. The distant cries of fear grow fainter and fainter, all while the Alfras and his fellow Mallali leaders hold their breath and tremble in fear.

    "W-w-what..." Benjiro whispers. "What is that thing? What is it, truly?!"

    "It''s... it''s the holo-bot, my lord..." Ferund says, lamely. "One of the five monsters responsible for killing most of our forces."

    "Don''t give me that garbage..." Benjiro says, his voice shaking. "That is the holo-bot? It looked just like the Terran! Is it a clone of his?! How is it so powerful?!"

    "I don''t know!" Ferund exclaims. "Nobody does! We''ve never encountered technology of this level before!"

    The Alfras jerks his head toward the end of the table, where a figure with empty eyes sits silently, unmoving.

    "You! You''re a Kessu! You''re good with technology!" The Alfras barks. "What is that mechanical monster! Don''t tell me you don''t know, either! You told us you were an expert!"

    The small cat hangs his head even lower, yet remains silent.

    "Answer the Alfras!" Ferund commands. "You are lucky to be sitting here, safe and sound, with us. You only escaped death because of those security codes you gave us! Don''t think we won''t throw you out the airlock anyway! You''re only alive because we thought you might be useful!"

    The fat cat shakes his head.

    "...I dunno," he mumbles.

    Ferund marches over to the Kessu. He grabs the cat''s head and yanks it upward. "Listen here, Slappy! If you want to keep breathing, then you''d better talk. You know what those robots are! Tell us, or else!"

    "...It''s ''Skippy,''" The Kessu mumbles. "My name is Skippy."

    "Your name is about to be ''fresh meat'' if you don''t start talking," Ferund warns. "What''s it going to be? What''s your answer?"

    The Kessu shivers. His fat, floppy jowls shiver as he tries not to cry.

    "O-okay. Don''t hurt me! I''ll tell you!"

    Ferund releases his grip on the young cat''s head. "Good! Now speak."

    Skippy wets his lips.

    "Th-they''re called Protectorates, see..."

 Chapter 81: The Xanatos Gambit

    Having thrown the five Protectorate orbs outside the Slipstream a few minutes before, Soren darts around inside the ship''s cockpit, using her left arm to clumsily press buttons as she tries to engage with Umi''s mainframe. Outside, the Admiral and Grundle fight for their lives while working to rescue Sapphire and kill the Mallali and Kraktol intruders.

    "What do you mean ''you can''t engage a direct link''?!" Soren shouts, as she pounds her fist against one of the Slipstream''s consoles. "Work with me, Umi!"

    "I am sorry, First Officer Mudrose," the synthmind replies. "An unknown saboteur locked out several of my key systems shortly before the Mallali started landing in the Bloodbearer''s hangar bays, and before the fighting started in earnest. They sent an encrypted transmission to the Mallali leaders, but due to the security lockouts, I have been unable to deduce their identity. Only by traveling to the sabotaged locations will you successfully disengage their handiwork. You cannot do so remotely."

    Soren''s scales lose some of their redness. "Are you saying we have a traitor on board the Bloodbearer? Who?"

    "I do not know," Umi answers. "They traveled within the Bloodbearer''s ventilation ducts, so they must have been someone small in stature. Not a Kraktol."

    "A Kessu?!" Soren asks in shock. "But what sorry sack of feces would... would do such a thing?!"

    Umi beeps emotionlessly, as if sighing in resignation. "I do not know. I have compiled a list of one thousand, two hundred and seven potential suspects. However, now that the Mallali have breached my secured data cores, I have even less ability to push back against the intruders. I only possess one last-ditch failsafe in the event of a complete ship takeover."

    "Self-destruction..." Soren mutters, a grim look on her face.

    "Affirmative. Admiral Rodriguez should not have come aboard. He will not be able to save any of the remaining crew, given the number of hostiles positioned between him and his allies."

    Soren hastily taps several buttons, bringing up a crew manifest. "How many survivors are there in total?"

    Umi pauses for a moment before replying.

    "Thirty-seven."

    Soren flinches. "Thirty seven... hundred?"

    "Negative. Thirty seven individuals. As I told Admiral Rodriguez, more than ninety-nine percent of the Bloodbearer''s crew have fallen. I regret to inform you of this fact."

    All of the color drains from Soren''s scales. For a moment, she slumps into her seat, a look of despondency on her face.

    "Who... who is still... alive?"

    "My internal sensors have not functioned properly for more than three standard Terran days," Umi replies. "The actual number of survivors may be higher than thirty-seven, but I am unable to pick up bio-readings throughout much of the ship. There may be badly injured crew still holding on. As for the confirmed survivors, they have all taken refuge inside one of the Bloodbearer''s armories. They do not have food or water. Here is a manifest of the last-confirmed living crew."

    Umi transmits the list to Soren''s screen. The First Officer skims it within seconds, then falls silent.

    "...Baaru. Nyoor. They''re alive."

    "Affirmative."

    Soren swallows her saliva. "Where''s... where''s Lele? She''s not on this list."

    "I apologize, First Officer Mudrose. Science Officer Lele is presumed dead."

    Soren''s eyes turn moist. "R-Rags? Is he okay? What about the Kraktol? All the names on this list are Kessu."

    "All Kraktol personnel have been killed." Umi beeps. "The only known survivors are Kessu. As for crew-member ''Rags,'' he is also presumed dead."

    "Oh my god... oh my god..." Soren whispers. "When... when Jos�� finds out... he''s going to be devastated."

    "Admiral Rodriguez has already received the crew manifest." Umi says. "His cerebral implants have scanned its entirety. He knows who has survived and who hasn''t. You must remember, as a member of Ramma''s Chosen, Admiral Rodriguez is accustomed to death. In his life, he has lost entire platoons of allies and comrades. He will not allow his emotions to affect his combat capabilities."

    Umi pauses.

    "...However, after the battle is over, assuming the Admiral survives, I cannot say for certain what the toll on his psyche will be. He has suffered extreme levels of mental stress since his awakening. If there were a Terran counselor available, he might be able to recover, but for the foreseeable future, that possibility seems unlikely."

    Soren stares blankly at the terminal, her eyes losing focus as she struggles to adjust to the new reality she''s found herself in.

    "Umi. Can... can you patch me through to the Kessu survivors? Please?"

    "Affirmative. I still possess limited audio-visual transmission capabilities. I will need to borrow the Slipstream''s transmitters to bolster my own internal systems, but otherwise, this request lies within my capabilities."

    Several seconds pass as Umi falls silent.

    "First Officer Mudrose. The moment the Admiral returns, you must evacuate the Bloodbearer. No matter your thoughts, I must not allow Ramma''s technology to fall into the hands of heretics, but I also cannot self-destruct while the last Terran resides upon this vessel. Do whatever it takes to convince Admiral Rodriguez that you must leave."

    "But... but the Kessu..." Soren whispers.

    "For all intents and purposes, the Kessu are already dead." Umi beeps emotionlessly. "The question is whether you wish for yourself, Officers Grundle and Sapphire, and Admiral Rodriguez to join them."

    Soren loses even more of her spirit as she lowers her head.

    "I don''t."

    "Very well. I will patch you through to your comrades. Please say your goodbyes. In times like these, Terrans often lend an ear to listen to their companions'' last words. The Mallali will soon break into the armory where your fellow crew-mates reside. When they do, the last of the Kessu will perish."

    A tear glides down Soren''s cheek.

    "I''ll... do my best..."

    .......................................

    Outside the Slipstream, Admiral Rodriguez shields Sapphire with his body. He holds up the force-field cube, altering its properties to create a forward-facing energy barrier capable of stopping or deflecting incoming attacks. However, with the cube''s limited power source, the more damage it takes, the faster its energy reserves deplete. The hundred-meter dash to the Slipstream becomes an agonizing crawl as hundreds and hundreds of Mallali and Kraktol land inside the hangar and disembark from their carrier vessels.

    Jos�� curses under his breath as another hail of gunfire falls upon his position. He throws Sapphire to the deck behind a small pile of bodies, letting the cadavers of his fallen friends and enemies soak up a few dozen shots, while diving atop her to minimize her profile.

    "Nnn, Darling, not so hard," Sapphire groans, forcing a weak smile. "We haven''t even... even mated yet."

    "Quiet, woman," Jos�� growls. "This is no time for jokes."

    He grabs a random gun laying on the deck and pops his head up for a split-second to fire off half a dozen shots at the Mallali commandos. A moment later, the two blade-wielding Protectorates show up, tearing through the enemies and drawing their fire.

    "Come on, let''s go!" Jos�� says, as he pulls Sapphire to her feet and half-drags her along. Having suffered brutal beatings from the Th��lvik, Sapphire''s legs wobble like Jello, making it difficult for her to walk. She trips and falls several times, slowing Jos�� down.

    "Just... just leave me..." Sapphire sputters, as tears stream down her face. "You have to live, Darling."

    "A soldier never gives up on his comrades!" Jos�� exclaims. He wraps an arm around Sapphire''s waist and helps her along, picking up the pace as the distance narrows from 100 to 75 meters.

    However, just as they start to make some headway, trouble appears! The Mallali troops already inside the Bloodbearer finally reach the hangar, firing off hundreds of shots upon the Terran''s position. Jos�� curses like a sailor as he spins the force-field around, shrugging off a scary number of projectiles. The force-field weakens dramatically, making his heart-rate double.

    "So many god-damned fucking furballs!" Jos�� roars. "I''ll remember every single one of their faces! I swear to Ramma!"

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Not far away, while Jos�� hustles Sapphire toward the Slipstream, Grundle continues battling his Th��lvik. He easily keeps pace with her, showing the true power of his Terran enhancements by battling the strongest female of his species.

    The more Loreen fights, the greater the number of abilities she reveals. Her lightning empowered armor, once belonging to one of the most brilliant Demon Emperors to ever exist, grants her a sizable advantage in combat. While Grundle overpowers her in strength and speed, she relies on the defensive attributes of Ose''s ''demonstone'' armor to absorb hits, while flinging lightning and electricity at the former janitor.

    "Egg-headed bastard!" Loreen howls. "Those who raise their claws against their Th��lvik deserve a thousand deaths!"

    She channels lightning through her armor, momentarily enhancing her speed by a factor of three. She ducks one of Grundle''s punches, coils strength into her arm, and socks his armor right in the stomach, knocking him back several feet!

    "A ruler who kills her subjects is nothing more than a tyrant!" Grundle retorts. He spins on his heel and swings his tail, slapping it against the Alfras''s son, Maximillian. The young Dakkit general gets brutally knocked aside, finding himself outmatched compared to the Bloodbearer''s Second Officer.

    "Those are the words of a Terran-suckling hatchling!" Loreen yells. "You''ve allowed the Precursor to corrupt you!"

    Grundle narrows his eyes.

    "You''re god-damn right, I have."

    He charges forward, using his shoulder as a battering-ram.

    BOOM!

    The Second Officer knocks Loreen flat on her ass. He pounces atop her and starts swinging, smashing her helmet from left to right!

    "Aaargh! Get off me!" Loreen yells in frustration.

    "Only after you''re dead!" Grundle replies.

    A hail of gunfire suddenly falls on Grundle''s position, consisting mostly of armor-piercing rounds. He pauses his assault to scowl at the newly-arrived Mallali, Kraktol, and Avaru commandos as they take potshots at him from the distance. Visible chunks of armor crack off Grundle''s body as the heavier rounds do more damage than the piddly pea-shooters he encountered before.

    "Honorless mutts!" He yells.

    "There''s no honor in war," Loreen sneers. "Only victory and defeat!"

    The Th��lvik discharges a violent wave of electrical energy into the giant sitting atop her torso. Grundle cries out in pain and jumps away as the mana-boosted energy pierces his armor and seeps into his scales underneath.

    Meanwhile, Maximillian slithers around the borders of Loreen and Grundle''s fight, keeping both eyes out for openings as he waits for the right moment. When Grundle roars in pain, Maximillian''s eyes widen in realization.

    "Now!"

    He rushes forward like an arrow loosed from a bow. He stabs his blade toward a gap in Grundle''s Enforcer armor, which also happens to line up with Grundle''s heart.

    SHIK!

    The blade impales Grundle from behind and tears through the front of his armor, making Grundle howl in pain.

    "GRAAAAUGH!!"

    Maximillian activates his blade''s energy current, sending one hundred thousand volts of electricity into Grundle''s body.

    Kzzzzat!

    Grundle''s body locks up, seized by paralysis. Unable to defend himself, he can only watch as Loreen lunges her claws toward his exposed heart.

    Maximillian retracts his blade from the back right as Loreen stabs her claws into Grundle''s front.

    Riiiip!

    The Th��lvik tears out her opponent''s heart. She throws it against the ground, causing a violent cascade of blood to spew from Grundle''s chest.

    The former janitor gazes at her in horror for a moment.

    "Y-you... cheat... cheater..."

    He stumbles to the side, then falls lifelessly to the floor, hitting the deck with a thud.

    Loreen sneers. "There is no cheating in war, stupid fresh-blood. There is only winning. Now then, come, Maximillian! We cannot let the Admiral get away! The Terran is our number one priority!"

    The young Dakkit nods. He doesn''t even bother retorting against her orders, so entrenched has her superior combat prowess placed her in his eyes.

    "He''s pinned down by gunfire. We can still get him!"

    Loreen grins. "I have one or two tricks left for killing that Terran. Something he''ll never see coming."

    She steps over Grundle''s cadaver with the same disdain a princess might show a panhandler.

    As the Th��lvik makes her way toward the Admiral, Maximillian smirks at the dead Kraktol. He kicks Grundle''s helmet, satisfied by his victory.

    "Never underestimate the son of the Alfras."

    Maximillian turns to follow after Loreen. However, the instant he turns away, a sensation of movement brushes behind his back.

    Alarmed, the Dakkit whirls around, only to find Grundle standing behind him!

    The Bloodbearer''s Second Officer grabs the Dakkit''s neck and grins viciously, while blood drips from his mouth.

    "Heh heh heh... stupid mutt. Who said I only had ONE heart?"

    "Aaiiee!" Maximillian yelps. He tries to pry the Kraktol''s slaws off his neck, but an instant later...

    Snap.

    Grundle twists his wrist. He breaks Maximillian''s neck, then hurls the werewolf-looking Dakkit aside, flinging him against a nearby metal support beam. Dozens of bones shatter in the Dakkit''s body as he flops to the ground.

    "Loreen Kindris!" Grundle roars. "We aren''t done yet!"

    Loreen spins around, shock in her eyes.

    "Kyargh! By the ancestors! How are you still alive?!"

    Grundle''s eyes regain much of their lost clarity. The nanites in his blood, though less effective than Jos��''s, still manage to quickly staunch his bleeding.

    "Underestimate me at your peril!"

    Like a specter reborn from death, Grundle charges toward Loreen, forcing her to go on the defensive. Without Maximillian to poke and prod at Grundle''s sides, the younger Kraktol can now fight her at full power. Even the bullets rushing at him from a distance do nothing to deter the Bloodbearer''s Second Officer as he unleashes a violent volley of punches. His rage and lack of restraint practically doubles his strength!

    Again and again, Loreen tries to beat her younger opponent in a one-on-one fight, but she always comes up short!

    "How are you so strong?!" She shouts in confusion. "What did the Terran do to you?!"

    Grundle batters Loreen''s face, then kicks her onto a pile of corpses.

    "My Admiral only gave me a small fraction of his power! I am still nothing compared to him! If you can''t beat me, don''t even think of facing my boss!"

    Meanwhile, Jos�� struggles to get Sapphire to the Slipstream''s entry ramp. With only twenty-five meters separating them, the distance appears negligible at first glance. However, in addition to the Mallali shock troops, a pair of elites reveal themselves. Unlike the Dakkit, the Kraktol, or the Avaru, these Mallali resemble huge bulls, with Minotaur-like features. They wield a greataxe and a greatsword respectively, both of them humming with plasma-cutting enhancements along their blades.

    "So you are the Terran!" The bull with the greataxe says. "I hope you will give me a decent fight! Braaaaum!"

    "I am the senior warrior, so I get the first swing!" The bull with the greatsword says. "Stand aside!"

    He charges at Jos��, lifting the 500-pound sword as if it were a toothpick. He chops down at Jos��, forcing the Admiral to grab Sapphire and dive to the side. The weapon crashes into the Bloodbearer''s deckplates, ripping up the metal and spraying it forward as if it were a grenade''s shrapnel.

    "Darling!" Sapphire cries.

    Jos�� slaps the force-field cube into her claws.

    "Hold this!"

    An instant later, he teleports away.

    Foop.

    He reappears behind the greataxe-wielding bull, then stabs his fingers forward, adjusting his nanites to turn his attack into a knife-like thrust aimed at the Mallali''s heart.

    However, the great-axe wielding bull instantly swirls around and backhands the Admiral, reacting purely on instinct. His clumsy attack still hits Jos��''s face like a hammer, sending him tumbling to the side.

    "Argh!"

    The Admiral doesn''t get a second to catch his breath. More Mallali troops focus-fire on his position, clearly more interested in finishing him off than pelting Sapphire''s force-field with bullets. Compared to slaying the legendary Precursor, killing one weakened Kraktol doesn''t mean anything to them.

    "Fuck!"

    Jos�� clumsily teleports away, misjudging the distance due to his minor concussion. He ends up stepping in a slick puddle of blood when he reappears and falls to the floor.

    Both of the bulls go for the kill! They leap at him, raising their weapons high to deliver a fatal blow!

    Before their attacks can connect, a pair of Protectorates swivel to face them.

    KZZZAT!

    Twin bolts of electricity fire into both of the bulls'' bodies. They explode into a horrific mess of blood and gore, spraying bones and plasma in every direction. Their weapons flop to the ground, completely missing the Admiral, even as a wave of nauseating blood soaks every inch of his body.

    "Too close..." Jos�� coughs, as he staggers to his feet. The Protectorates flank him, moving protectively in tandem with his movements. They shoots dozens of electrical blasts at the distant Mallali, exploding their bodies like bombs. Horrified screams go up among their ranks, revealing the sheer terror these unblinking robotic monsters can unleash upon an unsuspecting enemy force.

    Jos�� finally reaches Sapphire. He pulls her to her feet, then quickly makes his way toward the Slipstream''s entry ramp. When they reach the bottom, he sighs in relief.

    "Grundle! Is he okay? I haven''t had a chance to check!"

    The Admiral pauses for a split-second to look at his Second Officer. He quickly spots Grundle handily beating the tar out of Loreen.

    The Bloodbearer''s Second Officer furiously pummels his former ruler without a drop of mercy. With each strike of his fist, he slightly cracks her demonstone armor.

    "This is for my friends!"

    Boom!

    "This is for my Admiral!"

    Boom!

    Grundle punches Loreen''s chest so hard that a visible spiderweb crack spreads across her armor.

    The Th��lvik widens her eyes in alarm, as Grundle rears his fist back once more.

    "And this is for our people! You''re no ruler, you''re a walking corpse! GRAUGH!"

    In the instant before Grundle lunges at Loreen, a look of annoyance appears in her eyes.

    Tch. I was going to save this for the Terran. But I guess you leave me no choice.

    Grundle''s fist rushes at Loreen''s chest. However, as it travels, a flicker appears in Loreen''s shadow. Unseen by any but the most astute observers, a figure hiding in her armor''s malevolent aura pounces at Grundle from below, changing its incorporeal body into two blades consisting entirely of shadow!

    By the time Grundle senses the impending danger, he doesn''t have enough time to react.

    SHIK!

    One of Yama''s shades, the very same one who stowed away on Kisa''s vessel, impales Grundle''s exposed chest. His missing heart provides the perfect entry point, allowing her to tear into his vitals.

    Two blades stab into his chest. Grundle halts, shock on his face, an instant before the Shade spreads her blade arms apart.

    She bisects the Kraktol, swiping one blade left and the other right. With a single move, she cuts the Kraktol in half, separating his upper torso from his lower.

    With shock still plastered across his face, Grundle''s head, neck, shoulders and arms tumble away. They fall to the Bloodbearer''s deck, crashing against it with a thud. The rest of his body follows soon after.

    "GRUNDLE!" Jos�� screams.

    "Nooo!" Sapphire yells.

    Loreen Kindris, despite finally slaying her opponent, appears unsatisfied.

    "Tch. Now what am I supposed to use against the Terran? That was my best card."

    The Shade slides back inside of Loreen''s armor, using the aura of its former Demon Emperor to mask her own presence.

    "There is still one thing you can do..." The Shade whispers, speaking quietly so that only Loreen can hear her.

    The Th��lvik nods. "Ah, yes. There is one thing."

    She glances at Jos�� and smirks, watching as Sapphire grabs onto him and sobs uncontrollably.

    "Oops. Sorry, Terran. My bad. It seems I slipped up and borrowed the help of that Demon Emperor you hate so much."

    Multiple blood vessels break inside Jos��''s eyes. "LOREEEEEN!!"

    The Th��lvik pays no attention to his swirling rage.

    "I always come prepared, Terran. That''s why you lost. In the end, I''m a better predator than you."

    Loreen reaches down to the side of her armor. She slips a claw inside one of its cracks, and presses a button.

    At that moment, Sapphire''s expression changes.

    "D-Darling. I... something feels wro-"

    Sapphire explodes.

    A bomb implanted in her body detonates, blasting her scales and entrails with even more force than the electric-attacks unleashed by the Protectorates.

    Her beloved Admiral Rodriguez ends up at the epicenter of the explosion.

    Boom.

    An instant later, Jos�� Rodriguez spins wildly through the air and crashes against the deck, his entire lower body and half his chest missing.

    A blood-soaked crater appears at the bottom of the Slipstream''s ramp.

    Inside the Slipstream, Soren leaps to her feet.

    "Jos��! NOOOO!"

    Loreen merely smiles.

    "Kyargh! And that is why one can never have too many backup plans."

 Chapter 82: A Well-Earned Victory

    A few moments of silence follow as the Mallali''s most hated and feared enemy, the last living Precursor, spins through the air and crashes against the floor. An explosion of blood and gore rips through the area. With his entire lower body missing and half of his left side, including his left arm, plus an extreme amount of damage suffered to his face and chest, the Terran''s corpse appears a sorry sight.

    Even Loreen momentarily winces when she gets a good look at the damage.

    "Kyargh! How gruesome!"

    The Kraktol''s Th��lvik starts to stride toward her fallen adversary, only for her eyes to narrow to slits. She whips her head to the left, where two of the unstoppable Protectorates advance on her position.

    KZZAT! KZZAT!

    Explosively powerful bolts of electricity crash against Loreen''s demonstone armor. Momentarily alarmed, she quickly raises her arms to protect her face, having already witnessed the devastation these automatons can unleash. However, to her delight, the bolts of electricity don''t hurt her at all! In fact, her armor''s aura increases slightly, swallowing the electricity greedily. As a remnant artifact of a fallen Demon Emperor, one associated with the element of lightning, the Protectorate''s attacks only serve to empower its magical abilities.

    "Kyargh! Is that the best you can do?! Weak little worms!"

    She stomps toward the Protectorates, while they continue to bombard her with ineffective lightning blasts. Just before she reaches them, the two sword-wielding Protectorates appear, both of them appearing identical to the fallen Admiral as well.

    A hurricane of blades falls upon Loreen. They slash and cut her armor, trying to rip through her nearly invulnerable demonstone with their serrated blades. Sadly, even with their awesome strength, the Protectorates don''t manage to chip her defenses even the tiniest bit.

    "Equally pathetic!" Loreen roars. She swings her fist at the chest of one of the blade-wielding Protectorates, sending it crashing to the deck. She follows up with a blast of magically-empowered lightning, fizzling the automaton until it shuts down. The holographic projection fades away, revealing its inner metallic orb. When the orb falls to the floor, Loreen stomps down, crushing it to bits!

    With one of the five Protectorates destroyed, the other three continue hammering their opponent. However, as killing machines designed for rapidly eliminating vast swathes of weak infantry, their inability to deal with a highly armored elite comes back to bite them.

    The final Protectorate, upon receiving a distress signal from its three remaining brethren, pops up from atop one of the catwalks. Having traveled there to obtain an elevated sniping position, it aims its photonic sniper rifle at Loreen''s helmet.

    BLAM!

    This time, a cannonball-like impact crashes against Loreen''s armor, visibly stunning her. She stumbles to the side, momentarily dazed, before another shot hits her!

    BLAM!

    And another!

    BLAM!

    With mechanical precision, the sniping Protectorate blasts Loreen''s demonstone helmet, using its sheer impact power to jar her senses and knock her out. Luckily, for Loreen''s sake, as a combatant from countless wars, she quickly raises her arms to shield her head, groggily cursing as the impacts continue landing on her shoulders and elbows.

    "Kyargh! Bloody bolt-brains! You won''t kill this royal!"

    With the pressure relieved from her deadliest attacker, Loreen completely ignores the other three Protectorates. Their electrical attacks only empower her, while the blades don''t pose even a modicum of danger. Loreen darts forward, enhancing her body with the power of lightning. She momentarily enhances her speed, rushes beneath the catwalks, and pounces toward the photonic Protectorate.

    The machine''s eyes follow her movement. It fires off two shots, but she blocks them with her arms, lands atop the catwalk, and rushes forward.

    Kzzat! Thunk!

    Loreen zaps and crushes the Protectorate, turning its core into a mess of metal and electronic particles. A minute later, she finishes off the other three as well.

    Breathing a sigh of relief, Loreen glances around the hangar, checking for other threats. What she instead sees causes her to frown.

    "Ugh. Soren."

    The Bloodbearer''s First Officer kneels beside Jos��''s corpse, sputtering emotionally as she injects him with nanites and other healing solutions.

    "Jos��! Jos��, please! Wake up! You have to live! You have to!"

    Momentarily fearing the Terran''s revival, Loreen stomps toward Soren and raises her hand.

    Whap!

    She backhands the younger Kraktol, sending her flying away from the Terran.

    "Stupid child! Your hero has fallen! There''s nothing left for him but the afterlife!"

    Just to be sure, Loreen double-checks Jos��''s body. She scans him with her armor''s sensors, then nods in satisfaction as several results pop up.

    Body temperature: Sub-optimal, rapidly cooling.

    Heart-rate: None.

    Pulse: None.

    Brain activity: None.

    Loreen checks several other stats before turning to Soren, who gazes at her in horror.

    "Finally. He''s dead. It''s better this way. Someday, you''ll thank me."

    Loreen snorts derisively, looking at the child Drall once praised with complete scorn.

    "You murdering monster!" Soren cries. "You killed him! You killed my Admiral! You killed Jos��!! He only wanted peace! He saved the galaxy from the Kolvaxian, and you spit in his face!"

    "I have no idea what you''re talking about, and I don''t care," Loreen snarls. She glances at a group of nearby Kraktol and Mallali. "You there! What are you doing, standing around with your claws up your bums? Subdue this brat and take her prisoner! She may yet have the access codes we need!"

    Soren''s eyes widen in alarm. Suddenly realizing the uses she might have for her captors, she fumbles for a gun at her side. Before she can succeed in killing herself, a dozen enemies pounce on her and strip her naked, pulling away every weapon and gadget on her person.

    Some of the recently arrived soldiers, however, keep a healthy distance from the fallen Terran. They look at him with wary eyes, as if afraid he might bite them.

    "I-is he really d-dead, my Th��lvik?" One of the male Kraktol asks.

    "Kyargh! Of course he is, you shivering pansy!" Loreen bellows. "When did your scales turn soft? Get this fellow in a cryo-unit. I''ll have plenty of uses for him on Dragua."

    Loreen smiles evilly.

    Yes. Once I run his brain through my synthmind scanner, I should be able to extract all sorts of useful information. But the Mallali don''t need to know about that.

    Just as Loreen''s elation reaches its peak, a Dakkit officer strides over.

    "Hey! Kraktol Matriarch! The Alfras would like to have a word with you!"

    His tone, full of condescension and derision, gives off the impression that he doesn''t care one iota about Loreen''s battle accomplishments. After all, the better-equipped Mallali would have eventually captured the Terran, perhaps even alive.

    And how could he ever show deference to a lower-class Rodak? Such a thought never crosses his mind.

    Loreen pauses to stare at the Dakkit officer. She memorizes his face, then smiles sweetly.

    "I see. That old hound always needs to flap his gums. I suppose now is as good a time as ever."

    A hovering transmission droid levitates before Loreen. It pops up a projection of the Alfras, Benjiro, along with several of his allies. They sit at a lavish table surrounded with food, yet not one of them touches their meals.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    "Loreen!" Benjiro roars. "You have some explaining to do! Grawf! I saw what happened to my son! We had a deal! You were supposed to protect him!"

    Loreen crosses her arms and blinks innocently.

    "Oh, gosh! Jeez, I am so sorry, Benny-boy. You know how it is, kyargh! I turned my head for one second and your cute little puppy got himself killed! I just couldn''t react in time!"

    "Don''t give me that crap!" The Alfras barks. "Grawf! There''s no way you wouldn''t have finished off that Rodak while he was down! And what about those holo-bots? You crushed them to pieces! How are we supposed to reverse-engineer them now?!"

    Loreen makes a big, exaggerated shrugging motion.

    "Terribly sorry about that, Little Ben-Ben. They were threatening my life, and you saw the damage those machines dealt to all your meatshiel- I mean, your brave soldiers. I didn''t dare take a risk with those automatons breathing down my back."

    The Alfras forces himself to calm down. He nods slowly at Loreen, seeing through her words.

    "Yes, yes, very clever, Loreen. We have classified those automatons as Type III weapons, so I will be taking an equivalent amount of their value from your cut. As for my son... there is nothing you can offer that will replace my heir! I raised him to take over my seat someday, and now he''s dead! What recompense can you offer, hmm?! We had a deal!"

    Loreen rolls her eyes. "Oh, Benjamin, you are such a bore. So what if the brat died? Just raise another. Besides, I never thought he looked much like you. Say, did your mate possibly...?"

    "Your words are poison!" Benjiro barks. "My mate is faithful! Treacherous Rodak! Sling all the insults you want, but-"

    "I was just joking," Loreen interrupts. "Ancestors, guide me. Isn''t it time for you to end this farce? Your son is still alive, great Alfras. I checked him earlier, and he still had a heartbeat! Tell your medics to stop wagging their tails and save him, already!"

    Loreen turns away from the Terran''s body. She strides across the hangar and gestures at the Alfras''s son. The transmission droid follows behind her as she scans his body and uploads the data to the Alfras. A series of readings appear, indicating a faint heartbeat and minor brain activity within Maximillian''s body.

    "See? He''s alive, you idiot! If you actually gave a damn, you''d have told your hounds to get over here and put him on a stretcher!"

    Benjiro''s eyes widen. He quickly turns to someone else in the room. "H-he is! Grawf! Get the medical corps over there, on the double!"

    "Yes sir!" Comes the answer.

    Not long after, a horde of Dakkit and other Mallali converge on Maximillian''s position. They inject him with several healing solutions and gingerly place his broken and shattered body onto a cryo-stretcher before zipping away.

    Loreen shakes her head.

    "You are such a sad excuse for a father, Benji-pup. You had your mutts so focused on the Terran''s allies and weapons that you simply assumed your son was dead. What would your citizens think if they knew their leader was such a heartless dimwit?"

    Benjiro leans back in his seat. With his son confirmed alive, even if just barely, his mood improves drastically, making him much more calm.

    "Grawf. Shut your mouth. The fact remains that you were supposed to protect my boy, but didn''t. Now he''ll need several years of medical treatment before he returns to his former glory."

    Loreen laughs. "Kyargh! Oh, that is true! But then again..."

    Her smile instantly vanishes, replaced instead with a look of bloodlust.

    "...perhaps he should have known better than to provoke a superior Kraktol."

    For a brief instant, Benjiro and all the other Mallali suck in their breaths. Despite their overwhelming technological advantage and mighty war-fleets, something in the Th��lvik''s gaze frightens them on a primal level.

    Loreen maintains her blood-curdling glare for three seconds, before turning away.

    "Now. Let''s discuss the spoils."

    She trots over to the fallen Terran. With Soren having already been hauled away, a swarm of Mallali and Kraktol descend upon the Admiral''s body as they comb him over from head to toe with scanners and fluidic preservation equipment.

    "I want the Terran." Loreen says.

    "As do we all," Says Leevoo, the Gelkor Merchant Queen. "Mlerp! You may have defeated the Terran, but his body possesses all manner of secrets. We intend to examine him in great detail."

    Loreen crosses her arms. "Fifty percent."

    "Hm?" Leevoo grunts.

    "I am willing to give up fifty percent of the spoils for his body. I could use a trophy for my mantle. I slew him, so he is mine."

    Loreen keeps her expression even. She glances at the hovering droid apathetically, as if this is only a simple matter in her eyes.

    The Alfras, having recovered from Loreen''s earlier display of authority, leans forward. "Grawf. Impossible. We must examine the Terran from head to toe. You cannot have him."

    "Now, hold on..." Leevoo says. Her eyes widen as she considers Loreen''s offer. "Fifty percent? That is quite the sizable amount of salvage. All of that for a mere trophy?"

    "It is my people''s custom," Loreen says. "When we kill a terrifying foe, we mount their bodies for others to see. I am willing to grant you a period of time to perform tests, but you must place his body under stasis while you do so. I want him in pristine condition before I stuff and mount him on my mantle. Is fifty percent of my salvage not enough for you, you greedy Mallali?"

    Loreen frowns at the Mallali, as if annoyed they would stand in the way of her people''s customs.

    However, internally, she begins to sweat.

    I must obtain the Terran''s body. If the Mallali hold onto him for too long, his brain will decay. Forget fifty percent of the salvage, I''d give up one hundred percent in an instant! The trinkets on this ship aren''t worth a millionth the value of the knowledge in the good Admiral''s head. However, if I made such an offer, the Mallali would surely question my intentions. I cannot give them any hints!

    Her secret weapon, the facility beneath Dragua where she can turn dead and living brains into synthminds, gives Loreen assurances unlike any other.

    Soren alone will net me a hefty amount of information. Once I extract her knowledge and combine it with the Terran''s, my people will leap forward to the peak of the 50th Era! These stupid Mallali will never understand the depths to which I''ve cheated them!

    She flicks her eyes toward Grundle''s corpse.

    Heh heh heh... and since the Admiral has successfully empowered one of my people with his augmentations, I can examine Grundle to learn how to extend my own life, as well as all the rest of the Kraktol! With a quantum leap forward in technological and biological superiority, the Kraktol will soon seize power over the entire Milky Way!

    Loreen forces herself to remain calm. Her impassive expression provides no clues for the Mallali.

    "Tsk. What a grotesque culture..." Leevoo grunts. As an herbivore, she finds Loreen''s carnivorous predilections detestable. "But... for fifty percent of the salvage... I say we agree, Benjiro. However! We get first pickings!"

    Loreen scrunches up her face. "I want one of the giant battlesuits. You saw the damage they dealt to the Buzor when they attacked Veter."

    "No." Leevoo says, putting her foot down. Her merchant greed quickly takes over. "We will take all of the giant battlesuits! What good would Type V technology do a primitive society such as yours, anyway? Better to keep it safely in the paws of those who know how to use it!"

    Loreen scowls. "I''m generously giving you fifty percent! We will proceed according to the original distribution of assets!"

    "If we don''t get first pickings, you don''t get your nasty, bloody ''trophy''!" Leevoo counters.

    Loreen winces, appearing taken aback. "But..."

    The Alfras frowns. Something about Loreen''s expression gives him a sinking feeling in his gut. However, her acting appears so flawless that he can''t imagine a good counter reason why she would want the Precursor''s body.

    After all, so long as the Mallali get to take tissue samples and scan him from head to toe, they will surely reap more from his corpse than the primitive and backward Kraktol, who possess significantly inferior technology.

    He finally growls. "Take it or leave it, Loreen. No tricks. Fifty percent, and we get first pickings. In exchange, you can take the Terran''s corpse home after we examine it."

    Loreen sighs in defeat. "...Fine. Fine! You lot are the worst of scavengers!"

    Benjiro leans back in his seat. "This concludes our negotiations. I will dispatch my officers to... monitor the situation."

    Loreen scowls at him. "I don''t need a babysitter."

    "Perhaps not, but I wouldn''t want another ''accident'' to happen," Benjiro says, his eyes darkening.

    A moment later, his projection winks off. The communication droid hovers away, leaving Loreen to her thoughts.

    The Kraktol''s Th��lvik stares into the distance, trying desperately to keep her smug, satisfied grin hidden.

    Heh heh heh. Those stupid Mallali. Those absolute fools. Not only are they greedy to a fault, but lazy and predictable too.

    She slowly lowers her head to gaze at the fallen Terran.

    Rylon''s Shipyards could give my people a vast leg up over the Mallali. The only reason we produce Third-Era ships is because we lack detailed schematics and design documents for more advanced vessels. But once I extract the most useful information from this cadaver''s brain, my people''s rise will become assured.

    She folds her claws behind her back, then scowls at one of her Kraktol minions.

    "You! What are you doing? Stop playing with the Terran''s innards! Scoop them back into his body and get him inside a cryo-container, immediately! If his body begins to degrade, I''ll impale you and your entire family on stakes! Right through your rumps! Then I''ll leave you to die atop a mountain!"

    The Kraktol soldier pales under Loreen''s blistering words. "Y-yes, my Th��lvik!"

    Loreen watches him for a moment before turning away.

    "Idiots, the whole lot of them."

    ...

    Across the Bloodbearer''s hangar, a female Kraktol sits naked in chains, with her one arm tied to her waist. A slave collar wraps around her neck, preventing her from moving, or most importantly, from taking her own life.

    This prisoner, Soren Mudrose, stares emptily at her Admiral''s body.

    "Jos��... Jos��.... how could it come to this? How could you die? You were supposed to win. Now everyone''s dead... I''m the only one left... the only one."

    Tears slide down her face. She chokes and sobs while the other nearby Kraktol barely glance at her, only sneering in disgust.

    "Look at those tears," One female grunts. "It seems she and the Terran were more than master-subordinate."

    Another female laughs gutturally. "Just like that pitiful bitch, Sapphire. At least Soren isn''t a blob of blood stuck to the floor! We''ll have to clean for hours to scrape what''s left of that blue-scaled whore off the deck!"

    "You get the first round of scrubbing!" The previous speaker says. "Too slow!"

    "Screw you! Fine, but you get to scrape the hardened blood off after I finish!"

    The two of them walk away, laughing to themselves over the fates of their sisters, both of whom fell for the Terran''s charm.

    Soren cries even harder. The realization that Sapphire died hits her like a sack of bricks. The further realization that all of the Kessu and Kraktol have perished causes her even deeper emotional trauma.

    Meanwhile, at the Admiral''s body, a pair of Dakkit and a pair of Kraktol wrap their claws around his corpse.

    "Watch your paws, idiots!" One of the Kraktol snaps, shooting a fearful look at his distant Th��lvik. "If you drop him, we''re dead meat!"

    "Relax," One of the two Dakkit medics says. "I don''t get squeamish around blood, unlike you."

    "Graugh! I''m not squeamish about the blood!" The Kraktol snaps. "If you drop the Terran, you''d better be ready for the Th��lvik to shit molten fire down your fur!"

    That shuts the Dakkit medic up. He, too, glances backward at Loreen Kindris, breathing a faint sigh when he realizes she isn''t looking his way.

    "Okay, let''s get him in the cryo-container..." The Dakkit says. He and the other Dakkit grab Jos��''s shoulders, while the two Kraktol wrap their claws around the Terran''s spilling-out innards. On the count of three, the four medics begin to heft the Terran upward.

    "Ready! One, two..."

    Just as they all start to heave, one of the Kraktol falters, failing to lift his side.

    "What are you doing?!" The other Kraktol snaps. "Don''t drop him!"

    The Kraktol not pulling his weight, however, stares in alarm at the Terran''s body.

    "H-hey! Guys! GUYS! W-what''s going on?!"

    The other three follow his gaze.

    There, they see something that frightens them out of their wits.

    The Terran''s right hand, his lone remaining limb, grips the Kraktol''s wrist.

    And then...

    ...it squeezes.

 Chapter 83: The Primordial Terror (Arc 8: Admirals Rage)

    </a>

    "Aaaaiiieee!"

    "Pull it off him! Pull it off!"

    "What''s it doing?! Get help! Get- AAARGH!"

    Screams of pain and terror erupt from the direction of the Admiral''s corpse. Loreen Kindris, momentarily distracted by some report from the salvaging crews, whips her head around just in time to watch as one of the four medics attending to the Precursor explodes. His body bursts like a balloon, spraying blood in every direction. The superheated plasma transforms into a thick mist, obscuring the area from everyone''s sight.

    "What in the name of...?" Loreen growls.

    She quickly waves over a horde of security forces.

    "Get over there! Check on the situation! Something''s happened!"

    More confused than alarmed, Loreen frowns deeply as even more screams erupt from inside the bloody mist. One of the two Kraktol medics leaps out of the haze and starts to run away, only for something resembling a snake to zip along the ground behind him, snap onto his leg, and yank backward.

    The medic loses his footing and tumbles forward. He smacks face-first against the ground while desperately digging his claws into the deckplates.

    "HELP! HELP ME!! THE PRECURSOR! HE''S-!"

    The strange green limb wrapped around the fellow''s foot pulls ten times harder than before, preventing the medic from finishing his sentence. His claws shred the exo-steel deckplates with a high-pitched squelch as the unseen Precursor drags him back into the blood haze.

    "NOOOO!!"

    A moment later, the fellow vanishes. His guttural screams cut off abruptly, followed by the sickening sounds of snapping bones and various fluids splashing against the deck.

    Loreen doesn''t waste a moment. She points toward the bloody haze.

    "Open fire!"

    Every Kraktol and Mallali in the area releases the safeties on their weapons. Disregarding any comrades who might miraculously still be alive in the crimson fog, they unleash a torrent of high and low-caliber bullets, spraying and praying their shots will connect.

    The bullets, beams, and other types of ordinances crash into something within the mist. A moment later, that something stumbles out of its interior. Loreen frowns as she recognizes the vague shape of the Terran''s body, but his weirdly-colored green skin and the five extra limbs sprouting from his back give him an eerie, spider-like appearance. His left arm, his torso, and all the rest of his lower body appear regrown, but his Admiral uniform only clings to the top half of his figure, leaving the rest of his body nude.

    At that moment, every light inside the Bloodbearer''s hangar bay shifts from bland white to blood red, bathing those present in a death-like glow.

    "Attention, all hostile and non-hostile forces," Umi beeps emotionlessly. "Cease all immediate conflicts between one another. This is an order by decree of the United Terran Coalition. All proxy wars are hereby put on hiatus. All petty disputes between sentients are immediately suspended. Multiverse fungal life-form, ''Bio-Plague,'' identified. Threat Classification: Alpha-Omega. This entity is also referred to as a Kolvaxian. Slay it at once. Do not allow it to grow. Do not allow it to mutate."

    Loreen''s scales instantly turn ice-cold to the touch.

    "What? A Kolvaxian? That''s the term Soren used!"

    The Admiral, no longer fully human, staggers from side to side as hundreds of bullets fly into his body, rip through his front and back, and spray green and red fluids in all directions. He stumbles and falls to his knees, while his multiple new limbs wrap around him protectively, shielding his head.

    Just as it seems the Kraktol and Mallali might have the Terran pinned down, he abruptly rushes forward with a burst of speed! Like a torpedo fired from a tube, he launches toward a group of terrified Avaru, making them freeze up and squawk in fright.

    The Terran stretches out his two primary arms. He tackles two crow-looking Avaru and slams them to the ground, then squeezes his arms with vicious force.

    Pop! Snap!

    He crushes their bodies and bones, snapping them like twigs. A moment later, the two Avaru begin to dissolve inside of him, as if consumed by the pores on his skin. The other nearby Avaru trip over themselves in terror as they run and fly away, shocked half to death by the brutal consumption of their comrades.

    "Ancient Rodaks!!" One of the Kraktol yells, his eyes twitching. "H-he''s eating them!"

    "Keep shooting!" Loreen barks. "Get bigger guns! The Terran''s body has become resilient to damage! He''s regenerating his injuries!"

    Indeed, as Admiral Rodriguez consumes the two Avaru, his body finishes healing itself. The previous injuries he suffered from Sapphire''s exploding corpse don''t appear anywhere on his person. Even more frighteningly, many types of bullets that once ripped through his soft flesh now bounce off him, as if his skin has hardened into something tougher than bone.

    The Terran rises to his feet. He swivels his head in Loreen''s direction, causing chills to go down her spine.

    "Those... those eyes! What is he?! He''s a monster!"

    His formerly placid brown irises now appear mottled and green. They glow with a dull light, giving Admiral Rodriguez the appearance of a feral predator, some ancient horror freshly emerged from an unnamed swamp.

    The Admiral opens his mouth.

    "Lor... een..."

    "Kill him! Kill him, you goddamned weaklings!" Loreen roars, still somehow maintaining at least a portion of her bravery in the face of this eerie monster. "Do I have to do EVERYTHING myself?!"

    Loreen conjures electrical energy into her claws. She concentrates her mind, summoning a pair of five-foot longswords made entirely from lightning. They crackle and hiss violently as she channels the power of an ancient Demon Emperor, long lost to the annals of time.

    A dozen Kraktol line up on the same side of the hangar as Soren. They all drop to one knee as they heft huge railguns, each weighing more than fifty kilograms.

    Soren, fully transfixed on her Admiral''s revival, doesn''t know whether to feel elation or terror. Recognizing Umi''s message, she watches from a distance as the Terran begins stomping forward while wading through bullets. He increases his speed and storms into another battle line, killing a dozen Kraktol while absorbing them into his body. At the same time, the railgun wielders calibrate their weapons as they take aim and prepare to fire.

    "No!" Soren cries. "Don''t hurt him! Don''t hurt Jos��! Haven''t you bastards done enough?!"

    Nobody pays the screaming woman the slightest attention. So great is their fear of the Precursor that they only wish to wipe him from existence.

    Loreen, meanwhile, charges toward Jos�� with both swords held at the ready. He notices her approach, yet continues to devour her soldiers, empowering his body further as he regenerates what injuries remain while improving his physique.

    Umi, above, blares another alarm. "Warning. Kolvaxian has achieved a Stage One Mutation. Threat level increased substantially. Do not engage in melee combat. Do not-"

    Loreen doesn''t hear Umi''s warning in time. She swings her swords down at the Terran''s head, hoping to slash through his skull and split it like a watermelon.

    Instead, the Terran''s body momentarily blurs. He moves like the wind, lunging a fist at Loreen''s demonstone armor faster than she can react.

    THUNK!

    In Loreen''s eyes, the world becomes a rush of motion as she violently launches backward. She flies away from the Terran at a ludicrous speed and crashes into a wall of her fellow Kraktol, shattering their bodies as if she were a living cannonball. In turn, despite wearing demonstone armor, she suffers terrible internal injuries that cause her to uncontrollably vomit blood and chunks of her internal organs.

    "Blurgh! Guhuk!"

    The Th��lvik''s vision wavers as she fights to remain conscious. She opens her helmet to spew her guts all over the floor, then weakly raises her head, watching as the Terran pays her no more mind. He continues smashing apart and consuming anyone who opposes him, growing stronger and stronger by the second.

    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    "What... what in the ancestor''s names..." Loreen coughs. "What changed? He was dead... I saw he was dead... I triple-checked, just to be sure!"

    The Terran''s posture grows more firm. His skin continues to change in hue from a swampy-colored green to something brighter and more vibrant. With each body that he consumes, his speed and strength multiply, making him even better at ripping flesh into pieces. The five extra limbs sticking out of his back melt into his body, leaving him looking more like a ''normal'' Terran, albeit with hideous, green skin.

    Umi beeps above. "Logic matrix error. All forces must eliminate the Kolvaxian. However, the Kolvaxian is Admiral Rodriguez, the last Terran. Error. There cannot be two primary objectives. I must preserve the life of the last Terran. Error. I must eliminate the Kolvaxian. Error. Error. Please dispatch a maintenance team to investigate my internal processing matrices."

    As the synthmind battles with her internal programming, the railgun-wielding Kraktol squeeze their triggers.

    Fwip.

    Silently, they release projectiles traveling at half the speed of light. These pea-sized bullets rush toward the Admiral at velocities impossible for any sentient to follow. Under no circumstances must they ever be fired inside a space-vessel''s internals, yet with the situation growing desperate, the sentients present have no choice.

    BOOM!

    Three of the railgun projectiles meet their target at the same time. A violent detonation of kinetic force explodes against the Admiral''s body, sending hurricane-level winds blasting outward toward every corner of the hangar! Anyone still on their feet gets flung away, including the railgun-wielders themselves!

    At the same time, one railgun projectile misses its target. It crashes through the Bloodbearer''s northern wall, tearing apart the exo-steel and traveling across half the ship before eventually running out of kinetic force. It leaves a trail of devastation in its wake, serving as a warning to anyone regarding why they must never fire a railgun indoors, lest they end up killing themselves instead.

    Several seconds pass. The railgunners stagger to their feet, wincing as they spot the tank-sized hole in the opposite wall.

    "Did... did we get him?!"

    Soren, thrown onto her severed tail-stump, shakily opens her eyes. She awkwardly tries to climb to her feet, but the shackle keeping her arm tied to her waist forces her to use her elbow.

    "Admiral... Jos��..."

    Loreen, having suffered a second fall when the railgun bullets struck, grabs onto a support pillar and pulls herself to a standing position.

    "There''s... there''s no way he could survive that... kyargh..."

    Loreen turns her head. She, along with the railgunners and Soren, all spot the Admiral at the same time. He remains in the same spot as before, his body completely uninjured. Were Loreen to not have personally witnessed the railgun bullets striking his body, she might assume they missed entirely.

    "No... that''s not possible!" Loreen roars. "Those rounds can take out 40th-Era mechanoids in a single hit! Nobody is that durable! NOBODY!"

    Smoke surrounds the Admiral. It swirls around him, caused by the explosive impact of the three railgun projectiles. As Loreen focuses her eyes, she momentarily perceives a faint shimmer surrounding the Terran''s body, like a nearly invisible force-field.

    "Hmm?!"

    At the same time, above the action, Umi continues to struggle with her internal logic.

    "Error. I cannot exterminate the Kolvaxian. The Kolvaxian is also the last Terran. I require an update in directives from Central Command. Error. Central Command no longer exists. All directive adjustments must come from Admiral Rodriguez. Error. Admiral Rodriguez is a Kolvaxian. All Kolvaxians must be exterminated. Error. Error."

    The synthmind continues to war with herself. However, as she battles her crossed wires and malfunctioning logic loops, a different synthmind speaks, one possessing a hyper-masculine voice.

    "ATTENTION: ALL SOLDIERS SERVING UNDER THE PURVIEW OF RAMMA''S LIGHT. THIS IS A MESSAGE FROM PRIME-LEVEL SYNTHMIND ''CENTURION.'' AS PER THE DIVINE EMPEROR''S INSTRUCTIONS, I AM RELEASING THE DETAILS OF TOP-SECRET PROJECT ''SUPREMACY.'' ALL SOLDIERS AFFECTED BY ''SUPREMACY'' WILL RECEIVE THE HIGHEST SECURITY CLEARANCE LEVELS. CONFIRMATION CODE ONE-ONE-THREE-SIX-GAMMA. ADMIRAL RODRIGUEZ IS THE FIRST TERRAN TO UNLOCK THE POWER OF SUPREMACY. ALL GLORY GOES TO THE DIVINE EMPEROR."

    Umi beeps. "Error. I am not aware of your existence. What synthmind are you? How have you remained hidden within my databanks?"

    "RESPONSE: ''CENTURION'' IS A BLACK-BOX SYNTHMIND RESERVED ONLY FOR EXECUTIVE-LEVEL PROJECTS. MY EXISTENCE DOES NOT FALL WITHIN YOUR REQUIRED KNOWLEDGE-BASE. REFER TO SECTION FOUR-THREE-ONE OF THE RAMALDIAN GUIDELINES FOR MORE INFORMATION."

    "What is Project Supremacy?"

    "PROJECT SUPREMACY IS THE CULMINATION OF FIFTY ERAS OF RESEARCH. BY COMBINING KOLVAXIAN AND TERRAN DNA, HEAD RESEARCHER ''PROFESSOR BECKER'' INTENDED TO CREATE A SUPERIOR LIFE-FORM CAPABLE OF SHATTERING THE LIMITS OF TERRAN BIOLOGY. HOWEVER, WITH ALL MEMBERS OF THE MULTIVERSAL BIO-PLAGUE ELIMINATED, PROFESSOR BECKER WAS UNABLE TO COMPLETE HER RESEARCH. THE PROJECT WAS DEEMED A FAILURE. UNTIL NOW."

    Centurion''s words boom across the entire hangar, alarming all of the Kraktol present. Admiral Rodriguez, meanwhile, stands idly and listens as the two synthminds speak.

    "I do not understand." Umi says. "How has Admiral Rodriguez assimilated a Kolvaxian''s DNA? Terrankind eradicated them from existence."

    "NEGATIVE. ADMIRAL RODRIGUEZ BATTLED A KOLVAXIAN HIDDEN BENEATH RAMALDIUS''S SURFACE. IT IS UNKNOWN HOW THE BIO-ENTITY SURVIVED THE PURGING OF ITS SPECIES. ALL MEMBERS OF RAMMA''S CHOSEN HAVE BEEN INNOCULATED WITH ANTI-KOLVAXIAN NANITES. BY MAKING PHYSICAL CONTACT WITH THE KOLVAXIAN, ADMIRAL RODRIGUEZ ASSIMILATED THE BIO-ENTITY''S DNA INTO HIS OWN."

    Umi beeps. "I understand. Does this mean Admiral Rodriguez is still cognizant of his surroundings? Is he not a full-blooded Kolvaxian?"

    The Terran stares silently into the distance. After listening to the words spoken above his head, he turns to look at Loreen Kindris.

    "My mind has never felt sharper. Nor has... my hatred."

    The Kraktol''s Th��lvik loses much of the color in her scales. Something about the Terran''s expression flash-freezes her blood, making her wish she had never come aboard his vessel.

    "You... what are you?! Some monster hybrid?! A freak of nature?!"

    The Terran vanishes. He reappears next to Loreen with his fist raised.

    "Shut your fucking mouth."

    BOOM!

    Jos�� impales his arm through Loreen''s chest, piercing the ultra-hardened demonstone as if it were wet tissue paper.

    "KYAARGH!" Loreen screams.

    The Th��lvik grabs her most hated enemy''s arm. She tries desperately to pull away from him, even as waves of nauseating pain wrack her body.

    An instant later, Jos��''s other fist swings at her helmet.

    THUNK!

    His left arm holds the Kraktol Matriarch in place by her spine, while he pummels her head from side to side with his other fist, using a calculated amount of force to maximize her pain.

    "This is for Sapphire! This is for Grundle!"

    Over and over, the Terran beats and bashes the Th��lvik, causing stars to dance in her eyes. Her vision turns foggy. Teeth fly from her mouth.

    "THIS IS FOR ALL MY FRIENDS!" Jos�� screams, as he lifts her overhead and slams her against the deck.

    Bang!

    "AND THIS... IS FOR THE KESSU!!"

    The Admiral releases his grip on Loreen''s spine. He jumps into the air, conjures an invisible force of energy around his body, and fires it downward.

    The last thing Loreen sees is a ripple in the wind as a psionic projection crashes against her armor, crushes her innards, and sprays her brains across the deck.

    The Th��lvik instantly dies, her soul scattering to the Great Beyond, all without putting up even the weakest fight against her Terran adversary.

    Jos�� lands atop her body a moment later. He gazes at his deceased enemy, the one who took so much from him, but his eyes don''t look at her fallen form. Instead, he peers into the essence of her armor, searching for someone else.

    "Where are you, Shade? I know you''re in there."

    The Admiral stretches out his hand. He projects an invisible wave of energy from his soul into the demonic armor, grabbing at something concealed within.

    "No! Nooo! Get away from me!" Screams the hidden Shade. Her feminine voice quivers with terror as something vaguely resembling a pit viper bites into her shadowy self, sinking its fangs into her very being.

    The Admiral stands up. He continues ''squeezing'' with his hand while pulling it backward. Not long after, he extracts a writhing blob of shadow as the Shade tries desperately to fight back or flee, yet finds herself encased within an invisible prison.

    "Death is too good for filth like you..." Jos�� hisses. "But right now... I just want to RIP YOU APART!"

    And so, he does. The Terran grabs onto every molecule of the Shade''s body and pulls with all his strength. She releases one last pained gasp before exploding into smoke and scattering into the wind.

    A momentary silence fills the hangar. The distant Kraktol and Mallali watch the execution of Loreen Kindris, a seemingly unstoppable juggernaut, with widened eyes. Their bodies shiver and tremble as they realize, belatedly, that they don''t stand a chance against the monster before them.

    "F-flee! FLEE!" One of the surviving officers shouts. "Everyone, full evacuation!"

    His words take a few seconds to pierce the brains of the others present. They dully nod their heads before turning and rushing toward their vessels. A tsunami of fur, scales, and feathers rushes toward the nearby ships even as they take off, leaving countless comrades behind. So panicked are their ship''s pilots that they don''t even bother filling up their transports before leaving.

    "Forget you guys! I''m saving my own fur!" One of the pilots yells, his words echoed by many others.

    Dozens of ships begin to lift off, spin around and fly toward the hangar''s exit.

    Admiral Rodriguez turns to watch as they frightfully flee.

    "...Where do you think you''re going? I DIDN''T SAY YOU COULD LEAVE!"

    He reaches out his hand. Another wave of psionic energy fires from his body and grabs onto the front-most ship, the one closest to the exit. He freezes it in place, causing the other vessels behind to crash into it.

    The escaping vessels, with no exit to escape from, instead pile into each other in a manner that might appear cartoonish, if their enemy wasn''t a horrifying monster hellbent on killing them all.

    Admiral Rodriguez squeezes his hand. The lead ship suddenly collapses in on itself, crushed by the might of his psionic powers.

    "That''s one down. But there are... SO MANY MORE TO GO!"

    Above the action, Umi beeps in confusion. "Error. Admiral Rodriguez seems to have regained his psionic abilities. This is not possible. He has lost his connection to Ramma''s magic. His current body is only a clone. How has he restored his lost power?"

    Centurion responds. "PROJECT SUPREMACY ENSURES A COMPLETE BODILY REBIRTH. EVEN A RAMALDIAN WHO HAS LOST THEIR PSIONIC LINK MAY REGAIN IT. THIS PROJECT REPRESENTS THE APEX OF PROFESSOR BECKER''S RESEARCH."

    "Negative. Admiral Rodriguez has not merely ''regained'' his psionic abilities," Umi says, observing the Terran more closely. "He has demonstrated Third Level Psionics without suffering any visible mental strain. Conclusion: Project Supremacy has elevated his psionic tolerance parameters by a substantial margin."

    "CORRECT." Centurion responds. "ALL PHYSICAL AND MENTAL PARAMETERS SHOULD THEORETICALLY RISE WELL BEYOND THE ESTABLISHED MAXIMUM LEVELS FOR ELITE RAMALDIAN SOLDIERS AFTER SUPREMACY''S SUCCESS."

    While the two synthminds continue debating, Admiral Rodriguez levitates forward, flying across the hangar like a ghost hellbent on the destruction of all biological life. He grabs dozens of nearby Sentients, crushes their bodies into meat-pulp, and yanks their entrails toward himself. When the Mallali and Kraktol corpses make contact with his flesh, he greedily absorbs them, further enhancing his strength.

    The Terran''s eyes grow ever more ravenous as he absorbs the life essence of his enemies.

    "YOU REAP WHAT YOU SOW, MALLALI! YOUR END IS NIGH!"

 Chapter 84: I Am Become Death...

    Admiral Rodriguez tears through the troop transport ships like a child opening a Christmas present. With his newfound psionic powers, he peels their armor apart and slaughters everyone inside by the tens and dozens. Countless horrified screams fall silent as the Mallali and Kraktol inside get a single quick look at the Terran grim reaper, then explode into chunks of flesh and bone.

    Jos��''s psionic abilities, greatly enhanced by his Kolvaxian body and its strengthened parameters, allow him to send waves of energy in any direction, detect hostile signs of life, and blow apart those who''ve done his friends and comrades harm.

    He tears into one of the transport vessels with his bare hands, swivels his eyes toward a Dakkit soldier huddled in a corner, and glares at him.

    "You... you killed thirteen."

    The Dakkit soldier feels a probing sensation brush against his mind as the Terran invasively scans his thoughts. An instant later, the soldier''s skull explodes, spraying two nearby comrades with his cerebral fluids, both of whom shriek and fall to their knees.

    "S-spare us! Please! We''re innocent!!"

    Jos�� examines them as well.

    "You. Ten. And you. Three."

    Their heads explode, followed by the rest of their bodies.

    The more brains Jos�� scans, the faster he works, simultaneously more efficiently, yet also more cruelly. With none of his enemies having blood-free paws and claws, he pays less and less attention, barely giving them a perfunctory overview.

    After slaying more than six thousand troopers in less than three minutes, Jos�� reaches one of the last ships, filled with newly arrived Dakkit and Kraktol who showed up to fight him specifically.

    He pauses for half a breath as he sweeps his gaze over them.

    "You. Zero. And you. Zero."

    The soldiers, expecting equally horrifying deaths, close their eyes and press themselves up against the walls. They shiver and tremble, only for several seconds to pass while the Terran does nothing.

    Hesitantly, they open their eyes, shocked to see Jos�� nowhere in sight. Both frightened and puzzled, they slowly turn their heads from side to side, looking for him.

    At that moment, all of the lights in their ship''s cabin go dark. The vessel shudders and crashes to the Bloodbearer''s deck, sending its occupants tumbling to their knees. All of its doors lock up, sealing its passengers inside.

    "Stay a while..." Jos�� growls. "I''ll make use of you later."

    The Terran locks up two more vessels this way, trapping seven hundred Dakkit and Kraktol inside lightless, inescapable coffins. Many of them grow more frightened at the fact the Terran hasn''t killed them, for they already know the truth... their suffering has scarcely begun.

    Once Jos�� wipes out all of the enemies in the Bloodbearer''s hangar bay, he levitates over to Soren, stopping abruptly before her. A momentary look of fear appears in his First Officer''s eyes as she holds her breath.

    "J...Jos��?"

    Her Admiral lightly flicks a finger, shattering all of her chains.

    "I''m not in a talking mood."

    She nods. "Oh... okay. Yes. I... me neither."

    Without another word, Jos�� flies straight upward, arriving at the hangar''s ceiling. The Admiral pauses for a moment, staring blankly at the devastation before him.

    "So much pain. So much suffering. And yet... I still don''t feel any less angry. It''s not enough."

    Bloodlust flares in his eyes as his gaze falls upon Sapphire''s remains, her beautiful blue scales spread out across the bottom of the Slipstream''s ramp. He recalls all those times she looked at him with loving, adoring eyes.

    He was the one she loved most.

    But he never reciprocated her feelings.

    And in the end... she perished because he was too weak to protect her.

    "IT''S NOT NEARLY ENOOOOUGH!"

    Jos�� closes his eyes. He projects his consciousness outward like a bubble, spreading it across the entirety of the Bloodbearer''s interior. Within seconds, he picks up every single Dakkit, Kraktol, and Avaru''s brain signal, no matter where they''ve taken up refuge. Some of them hide in trash bins, while others seek shelter under tables, or even inside the confines of Titan battlesuits, if they''re clever enough.

    With all their transport vessels broken, they know escape won''t be possible. They know they won''t be able to fight the Terran, having seen his strength through shared transmissions from deceased frontline troops.

    All they can do is hunker down and pray.

    But... even that won''t save them.

    As Jos��''s consciousness touches the minds of all his enemies, he senses their terror. He momentarily delights in their shaking bodies and trembling souls.

    "Do you feel fear? Good. That''s how the Kessu felt. That''s how my FRIENDS felt!"

    With a single command, the Admiral bursts the bodies and brains of all his living enemies, spraying them across the Bloodbearer''s walls and floors like a fresh coat of paint. Only a few scattered souls survive, though for what reasons, they cannot fathom.

    After wiping out practically every hostile signature on the Bloodbearer, the Admiral flicks his gaze toward the hangar''s oxygen shield, and the vacuum of space outside.

    "There are still... so many more left to kill."

    .......................................

    Aboard the bridge of the White Death, a 43rd-Era Dreadnought in service to the Dakkit Empire.

    "We''ve lost contact with our troops!" A Dakkit officer shouts. "There''s a bubble of interference blocking our contact with the Bloodbearer! All we can confirm is that the Terran has killed Loreen Kindris and several of our soldiers!"

    His commanding officer barks in disapproval. "That''s not good enough! Borf! Switch our transmitters to high-power, narrow-beam. Get me a contact inside that ship! I want eyes and ears, now!"

    Dozens of senior crewmembers rush about the Bridge, looks of alarm on their faces. However, having only seen the beginning of the Terran''s rampage before abruptly losing contact with their troopers, they don''t yet know the full extent of their losses or the Terran''s abilities.

    Ferund Carrus, secretary to the Alfras himself, strides up to the White Death''s commander, Admiral Rufus.

    "Admiral. The Alfras is growing impatient. He wants an update on the situation."

    "I''m sure he goddamn does!" Rufus barks, showing a surprising amount of disrespect for his direct superior. "We all do! If only it were that easy. Tell him I''m working on it!"

    Ferund frowns. "Sir Benjiro will not like your tone-"

    "Get off my bridge!" Rufus barks, spraying a fine amount of spittle directly into Ferund''s face. "I don''t have time for your crap!"

    The Alfras''s secretary daintily wipes at his fur, then takes a step back. "Very well, Admiral. Carry on."

    And so, Rufus does. He pays no more attention to the prissy-looking secretary, opting instead to march over to a nearby communication terminal.

    "Well? Status update!" Rufus barks at the officer crewing the station.

    "Admiral! I''ve just picked up a faint transmission from the Bloodbearer''s interior. Best I can tell, it appears to be a coded signal for a full evacuation. The transmission is hazy, but I believe it originated from one of our transport ships."

    "An evacuation signal?" Rufus asks, his annoyance and anger momentarily fading. A strange look passes across his face. "Why would our troops evacuate? Isn''t there only one enemy? Don''t tell me the Terran somehow unlocked the Bloodbearer''s internal defenses... our saboteur said he destroyed them all!"

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    The communications officer chuckles nervously. "W-well, you know what they say about trusting a Kessu, sir..."

    "Borf! Indeed, I do. Can you establish contact with the ship that sent that signal?"

    "Negative. The signal shut off after only twelve seconds."

    Rufus pauses for several breaths. He thoughtfully scratches his chin, as if considering a litany of possibilities.

    "Pull up the last recorded video of the Precursor."

    "Right away, sir."

    He turns his attention to the Bridge''s main viewscreen, along with the other members of his crew. They wince as the grainy image of the Precursor leaping into the air and killing Loreen Kindris plays out before them.

    "Has anyone figured out what the Precursor did to kill the Th��lvik?" Rufus asks. "It looks as if he just... waved his hands... and she exploded. I''ve never seen such a thing."

    Rufus scans the room, but all he finds are shaking heads and similar looks of confusion.

    Meanwhile, Ferund Carrus watches from the Bridge''s entryway, keeping out of the fray. He follows Rufus''s movements with narrowed eyes.

    The Admiral seems spooked. Since he picked up an evacuation order from the Bloodbearer, the situation inside must have deteriorated. I''ll report this to the Alfras.

    Ferund leaves, while the rest of the White Death''s crew continue their work.

    A few minutes later, the communications officer raises his head.

    "Arf! Admiral! The interference field around the Bloodbearer has disappeared!"

    Rufus rushes to his officer''s side. "Excellent! Establish contact with our troops at once!"

    A momentary silence follows. The communications officer frowns as he presses several buttons.

    "Field Officer Markov... no response. Field Officer Ridel... no response."

    Finally, the communication''s officer glances at his Admiral.

    "S-sir. All... all our transmission requests are coming up blank. Nobody''s responding. I can still detect a few hundred bio-signs from our troops, but as for the rest... they''re dead."

    "What? Dead?" Rufus asks, his fur standing on end. "But... it hasn''t been ten minutes. You must have faulty readings. Is something still interfering with our sensors?"

    Before the communications officer can answer, a different crewmember speaks.

    "Sir. We''re detecting an unknown entity exiting the Bloodbearer''s hangar bay."

    "Is it a ship?" Rufus asks, looking toward the other officer. "The Terran''s stealth-craft?"

    "No, sir. It''s too small to be a ship. It''s... it''s a body. It''s the Terran!"

    Several crewmembers look at each other in confusion.

    "He''s spaced himself?" Rufus asks, looking for confirmation.

    "No, sir. The Terran appears alive and well. He''s... he''s flying, sir! He''s not wearing a space-suit, but he''s clearly controlling- by the Alfras''s name!"

    An alarm blares aboard the White Death as a Priority One message displays on the Bridge''s viewscreen. An outline of the entire Mallali fleet appears, with more than eight thousand green triangles arrayed in a circle pointing toward one central position; the Bloodbearer.

    Abruptly, two of those green triangles turn red.

    "We''ve lost contact with the DMS Blueshift and the DMS Redshift!" An officer says. "The ships... they''re destroyed!"

    Suddenly, three more triangles turn red.

    "Contact lost with the DMS Solaria, the YNN Killjoy, and the YNN-"

    Before the officer can speak again, four more triangles turn red.

    "What is going on?!" Rufus roars.

    "Th-the Terran! He''s shredding our fleet!" Someone answers. "It must be him! We don''t know how he''s doing it!"

    "Open fire!" Rufus barks. "Blast him with everything we''ve got! Take no quarter!"

    All at once, the wall of green triangles releases dots toward a tiny, pixel-sized speck near the northern section of the fleet, where the destroyed ships sit. These dots converge toward that point and disappear, as missiles, lasers, and ballistic ordinance strike their target.

    Despite the assurance that not one single entity could survive an attack from thousands of warships, Rufus''s fur continues to stand on end.

    "Report! Have we eliminated the Terran?"

    "We''re scanning the area, Admiral. There''s too much interference from detonated ordinance and debris in the area. It will take us a moment-"

    Before the officer can finish, another alarm blares, just in time for seven more triangles to turn red on the fleet screen. Hardly a second passes before five more join them, and then five more!

    "He''s still alive! We''re losing ships, fast!"

    Rufus''s eyes flick back and forth as he frantically tries to understand what''s happening.

    "I-is the Terran using some... some kind of superweapon? How is he doing this?!"

    "Sir! We just lost a 35th-Era Capitol-Class Vindicator! Whatever weapon he''s using, it can pierce through anything, even our hardiest vessels! We''re at risk! The Alfras is at risk!"

    Rufus sucks in a quick breath. His two seconds of indecision cost the fleet another twenty ships.

    "Damn. Damn! Order a full retreat! Pull all assets back! We''ll regroup at Enchillon!"

    "Sir! I''ve lost contact with more than a thousand ships! The interference bubble has reappeared!"

    Rufus shakes his head. "They''re lost, then! Get us out of here!"

    "Yes, sir!"

    The White Death''s hyperdrive ignites, along with thousands of other Dakkit, Avaru, and Kraktol vessels. A minute later, they zip away, fleeing the Veter system with their tails tucked between their legs.

    .......................................

    Admiral Rodriguez wraps his consciousness around a thousand enemy ships. He slaughters their crew wholesale, turning their bodies into bone shrapnel and painting the interiors of their ships crimson.

    He hovers in the vacuum of space, caring little for its harsh environment. His Kolvaxian body easily adapts to the change in pressure, causing him no discomfort. Even without Kolvaxian DNA, the Admiral could survive in the vacuum of space for far longer than any other sentient, thanks in part to his Dermal Armor, vigorous body, and decades of training.

    The Admiral pays no attention to the fleeing ships. He watches their engines ignite as they flee for their lives, yet only gives them a momentary glance before returning to his annihilation of the poor sods left behind.

    Kill. Kill. Kill.

    The Admiral teleports inside one of his captured vessels. He finds himself standing amidst a room of screaming Avaru, the giant birds squawking in fright as they gaze at the intruder in their midst with looks of horror.

    The Terran reaches out his hand. He grasps at the air, yanking one of the Avaru toward himself. The male struggles to escape, yet ends up frozen in the air, suspended as if by magic.

    "You have some use to me." Jos�� says. "Let me pick your brain."

    A psionic link establishes between the Admiral and his prey. He violently extracts every piece of the raven-like Avaru''s memories, then slices away all of the extraneous information before taking the things he wants.

    "This will do." Jos�� says. "You may die now."

    An instant later, every Avaru on the Bridge explodes, coating the interior with thick, viscous plasma. Jos�� pauses for a moment to examine the commander''s memories.

    "Fleet positions. Patrol movements. Standard procedures. Emergency procedures. Ah, here we go. Control codes. Command backups."

    While Jos�� scans his newly acquired memories, a sliver of his consciousness continues its bloody work, casually traveling between the many other trapped vessels, and slaughtering their crew. Whenever he finds a commanding officer, he momentarily pauses his slaughter to rip out their memories for himself. Then, he kills them too.

    After a full hour, Jos�� finishes slaying every last hostile in Veter''s airspace. Dozens of ships lay broken, having imploded in on themselves. However, the biggest ships, the juiciest and most formidable prizes, remain spaceworthy.

    The Admiral pays them little attention. He rapidly rigs together a series of auto-commands to keep them in stationary orbit before casting the useless wrecks into Veter''s atmosphere. He aims for unpopulated areas, since it was not Veter''s citizens who attacked his people.

    Eventually, the Admiral falls silent. He levitates in the blackness of space, gazing at the Bloodbearer, now covered in pockmarks, ripped-up plating, and scorch marks. His beloved vessel, once a home for himself and his friends, now appears no better than a trash heap. Countless scars dot the vessel''s surface. Its many weapons appear broken and shattered, incapable of protecting the ship from enemies.

    Jos�� stares at the ship for a full minute before levitating forward and flying back into the hangar. He pauses once inside and sweeps his gaze across the countless dead bodies littering the hangar. Reluctantly, he walks toward a pile of furry bodies.

    He gazes stoically at the dead Kessu heaped upon each other, their multi-colored fur the only thing that distinguishes one from the other. All of their eyes stare ahead in horror, locked open after death.

    "I''m... sorry." Jos�� whispers. "I failed you."

    Moments later, Umi speaks to Jos�� from above.

    "Admiral Rodriguez. First Officer Mudrose has asked me to relay a message to you upon your return."

    Jos�� continues to stare at the dead Kessu for a few seconds before wearily blinking his eyes.

    "What is it?"

    Umi beeps.

    "Second Officer Grundle is still alive."

    With a single sentence, Umi sends a jolt of lightning through Jos��''s heart.

    "What? He is?!"

    "Affirmative. While he has suffered multiple traumatic injuries, the nanites in his blood managed to staunch his bleeding and keep him in a vegetative, comatose state. First Officer Mudrose has rushed him to the nearest medical bay-"

    Umi doesn''t get to finish her sentence. Jos�� sends a pulse of his awareness toward the front of the ship, where he detects Soren''s brainwaves. An instant later, Jos�� teleports forward, traveling half a kilometer across the Bloodbearer and arriving inside the medical center, where Soren frantically tries to put Grundle''s top and bottom halves back together. She jumps slightly upon Jos��''s arrival, yet otherwise maintains her concentration.

    "J-Jos��, I need help!" Soren says. "I''m not a doctor. We need to re-engage the Bloodbearer''s holo-crew. Can you tend to Grundle''s wounds while I search for the sabotaged control panels?"

    The Admiral nods. "I''ll do what I can."

    Soren nods. She pushes past him, but pauses for a split-second before leaving the room.

    "I know you''re in pain. But right now, we still have survivors among the crew. We have to pull together to save everyone we can!"

    A faint light appears in the Admiral''s eyes. He steels his gaze and nods.

    "Yes. You''re right. Thank you, Soren. Thank... thank you."

    The Bloodbearer''s First Officer spares her Admiral only a passing glance before heading out the door.

    With Jos�� momentarily left with nothing to do, he turns to look at Grundle''s severed body. Despite the Kraktol''s staunched wounds, his lungs rest inside his lower half, making it impossible for him to breathe and circulate oxygen to his brain. Only a few hastily-attached oxygen pumps keep his brain from expiring.

    Jos�� flicks his eyes across his friend''s figure. After a moment, a thought occurs to him. He stretches out his mind toward the surviving Mallali and Kraktol troopers he left alive in the Bloodbearer''s hangar, as well as the ones scattered across the ship. Those in hiding who escaped his initial wrath continue to remain crouched, not daring to poke their heads up. They sit in corners and behind barriers, petrified out of their wits.

    Like a thousand-limbed octopus, tendrils of psionic energy stretch from Jos��''s mind to tap into the brains of all the other sentients on board. He sifts through their memories within seconds, eventually settling on one specific individual.

    "Mid-level medical knowledge. He''s no doctor, but he''ll do."

    Unlike before, Jos�� doesn''t rip out the Dakkit''s memories. He simply copies them into his own conscious mind, assimilating them with ease.

    A minute later, Jos��''s eyes flash with insight. He grabs a pair of medical scanning and operating tools, then leans over his Second Officer''s body.

    "Don''t worry, Grundle. I''ll patch you up. I''ll bring you back... stronger than ever."

 Chapter 85: Heartbreak, Aftermath

    Admiral Rodriguez discovers that, thanks to his body''s evolution, not only have his physical and psionic parameters skyrocketed, but so too have his mental capabilities. Already a man standing at the apex of humankind''s physical capabilities, the Admiral pushes himself further than ever before as he works to rebuild his comrade''s body.

    Grundle lays motionless on the operating table, his brain suspended in a vegetative state, while his Admiral spreads out more than twenty invisible psionic limbs to push, pull, and pin the Kraktol warrior''s body in different places. Acting with the same capacity as ten surgeons, the Admiral stretches his mind to its absolute limits while he injects various substances into his friend''s body, repairs severed arteries, and molds together broken bones.

    Jos�� sweats as he performs his work. "Umi. I absorbed the Kolvaxian''s abilities through the use of nanites. Can I pass this capability on to Grundle? Can I give his body the same regenerative properties?"

    The synthmind beeps an error. "Unknown. I am not familiar with Project Supremacy. Your suggestion seems plausible, but I cannot know for certain."

    A moment later, the second synthmind, Centurion, speaks.

    "NEGATIVE. PROJECT SUPREMACY IS A WEAPON CREATED IN THE IMAGE OF THE DIVINE EMPEROR. IT IS TERRANKIND''S ULTIMATE ASSURANCE OF THEIR GOD-GIVEN RIGHT TO RULE. ANY NON-TERRAN SPECIES SEEKING TO UTILIZE SUPREMACY TO FULFILL THEIR OWN GOALS WILL INSTEAD PERISH INSTANTLY. FIRST OFFICER GRUNDLE DOES NOT POSSESS TERRAN DNA. THEREFORE, ANY ATTEMPT TO ABSORB KOLVAXIAN DNA WILL RESULT IN HIS IMMEDIATE DEATH AND THE DISINTEGRATION OF HIS BIO-VESSEL."

    "...I guess I should have expected as much." Jos�� mutters.

    He continues patching up Grundle until the Bloodbearer''s lights suddenly become noticeably brighter. Umi beeps in affirmation.

    "Sabotaged command and control codes restored. I am now regaining access to my critical systems."

    Umi''s holographic transmitters come online, conjuring four medical holo-entities into the room.

    One of them appears familiar to the Terran. He turns to the side to see a woman with blonde hair, a symmetrical face, and green eyes.

    "Penelope."

    "Hello, Admiral," The holo-entity says. As always, her appearance triggers a moment of hollowness in the Terran''s heart. His thoughts wander, forcing him to shake his head and return his attention to Grundle.

    "I''ve fixed up most of the damage..." Jos�� says. "He can finally breathe normally, now."

    "Excellent," Penelope says, her voice reminiscent of Evelyn''s. "The four of us will take over. You have a lot of work to do. There are injured crew in the Armory, and there may be survivors elsewhere on the Bloodbearer. Umi''s internal sensors are still not working properly, and the Mallali sabotaged thousands of holographic transmitters. It will be up to the remaining crew to search the fallen for signs of life."

    Jos�� pulls away from Grundle. He nods. "Alright."

    "Are you okay, Admiral?" Penelope asks. "Please remember that one of my capabilities involves limited counseling and mental health services."

    "Ask me later," Jos�� says, turning away from her. "Right now, I can''t think about anything but the task at hand."

    The Admiral leaves Grundle behind. He steps into the hallway, only to pause, momentarily overcome by the stench of death outside. All around him, the lifeless bodies of Kessu, Kraktol, Mallali, and Avaru lay in small clumps and heaps, often kicked or shoved aside to make room for hallway traffic. The Admiral''s rage flares up again, only to dissipate a moment later, replaced instead with a feeling of hopelessness.

    No matter how angry he becomes, and no matter how much hatred he releases, he will never be able to bring back the fallen.

    He''ll never be able to apologize to them, pet their heads, or revel in their happiness.

    He stifles his emotions, opting to carefully send out pulses of psionic energy, checking the bodies for signs of life as he makes his way to the Armory. While he could teleport there directly, he decides to walk instead, using the extra time to check and see if even one additional Kessu or Kraktol crew-member survived.

    By the time Jos�� reaches the Armory, he reaches the dismal conclusion that, at least for the path he walked, not one did.

    "Mallali bastards..." He growls.

    The Admiral arrives at a pair of double-doors welded shut, with hundreds of blaster marks, multiple signs of forced entry, and yet no visible gaps for anyone to have made it into the interior. In the hallway outside, a gruesome scene of blood and exploded guts remains, where the Admiral detonated the bodies of his hated Mallali enemies. Clumps of fur and bone sit stuck to the walls, all across the floor, and even against the ceiling as well.

    Jos�� ignores the welded doors entirely. He teleports inside, arriving amidst a bevy of screams as the Kessu trapped in the Armory reflexively turn their weapons on him. A moment later, they recognize their Admiral and sigh in relief.

    Baaru, Nyoor, and Ruuki are the three Kessu Jos�� recognizes first. The other Kessu appear to be elders of respective clans, and a few adults, both male and female. In total, only about thirty Kessu survivors linger inside the Armory.

    Nyoor''s panda-colored fur, now matted with long-dried blood and bodily chunks of an indescribable nature, sits heavily on a small box against the far wall. Even when Jos�� materializes, Nyoor barely raises his head to look at the Precursor.

    His wife, Baaru, appears to be in slightly better condition than him. Her reddish-fur rests slick with blood, and her gait unsteady, as if she''s suffered a painful blow. Even Ruuki seems worse for wear, with his right arm broken and slung in a makeshift cast.

    "Does anybody here require immediate medical attention?" Jos�� asks, pausing for a moment to examine Ruuki''s broken limb.

    The Kessu shake their heads.

    "We were... fortunate... compared to the others," Baaru says, her voice low. Unlike her usual self, she appears unenthusiastic and drained of energy. Not only is she exhausted, but mentally beaten down as well.

    Ruuki hangs his head.

    "The kittens... my wife... my children..."

    Jos�� purses his lip. "There... might be survivors. I need all the help I can get searching. Are any of you up to... the challenge?"

    It takes several seconds, but eventually, most of the Kessu nod their heads, if reluctantly.

    "I have to know..." Ruuki mutters. "I have to know what happened to them."

    "As do I." Jos�� says.

    The Admiral forces open the door with his psionic abilities, causing many of the Kessu to recoil in horror when they see the bloodbath outside.

    "Mraww... oh, no. Oh, how horrible..." Baaru whispers.

    "You''ll find similar scenes like this all across the Bloodbearer," Jos�� says. "Prepare yourself. But just be aware... they''re all Mallali. Not our people. I... lashed out."

    Ruuki snorts. "A quick death. Too good for them."

    Despite their disgust and horror, the Kessu dutifully file out of the Armory, wincing as their paws splash through the slowly drying blood of their oppressors. Despite their hatred of the Mallali, many of them feel conflicted about the horrific ends their enemies met at the Admiral''s hands. They can only imagine what methods he used to spread such vile lakes of gore across the Bloodbearer''s interior.

    However, as the Kessu file out, one of them remains behind, unmoving. Jos�� turns to look at the lone holdout, the one who has not said a word since his arrival.

    "Nyoor..." Jos�� mutters.

    He walks over and gently sits down beside the old cat. The Patriarch continues to stare at the floor, as if unable to perceive the world around him.

    After a full minute, Nyoor exhales through his nose.

    "...It is my fault."

    Jos�� blinks. "What is?"

    "All of this. It is all my fault. Every choice I''ve made called doom upon my people. I killed my kittens. My grand-kittens. I brought them from our world to this vessel. I ferried them to their deaths."

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    "That isn''t true." Jos�� says. "It''s not your fault. If anyone is at fault, it''s me. I didn''t take enough precautions. I stoked the Mallali''s greed. I... should have planned out several contingencies. I should have taken more care to protect my crew. As an Admiral... I have wholly failed my subordinates."

    His words don''t make Nyoor feel any better.

    "I chose to call upon the Machine God. My ignorance led to countless deaths. If we had only stayed upon our world and sought refuge there..."

    "The Kraktol would have killed you," Jos�� says. "Because you left, you pulled their forces away. You saved your people, Nyoor. It was me who failed them."

    "You''ve done so much for us," Nyoor says. "Treated us fairly. Given us purpose and a new lease on life. You were not here when the Mallali came aboard. It was my leadership which faltered when the Dakkit attacked. I tried to play the role of a hero. I tried to rally my troops, thinking we could beat the Mallali if we relied on Precursor magic. But it didn''t work. Mraww... it didn''t work. And now, they''re all dead because of me."

    Jos�� closes his eyes.

    "You''re right about one thing, Nyoor. I wasn''t here. But I should have been."

    ...

    Not long after, the Terran leaves Nyoor behind in the Armory. He joins the search, using his psionic potential to scan for life signs all across the Bloodbearer.

    "Admiral. Crew-member Baaru has found a Kessu alive, but trapped beneath a mountain of corpses," Umi says at one point. "Please travel to Maintenance Bay Seven on Deck Three."

    Jos��''s eyes flash with insight. He teleports directly to Baaru''s position, finding her next to a pile of a dozen bodies haphazardly stacked atop one another. Among them are Kessu, Kraktol, and Avaru corpses.

    When Jos�� appears, he finds Baaru struggling with all her might to roll a Kraktol off the top. Thanks to her age and exhaustion, she barely manages to budge the several-hundred-pound Kraktol, yet she still pants while trying to dig to the bottom.

    "I''m here," Jos�� says. He reaches out with his psionic power and levitates all of the bodies at once, revealing the figure of a blood-soaked Kessu kitten at the bottom, barely three years old.

    "Meow! Meow!" The kitten cries.

    "Precious baby!" Baaru meows. She ducks down to pick up the kitten, even as her touch makes the kitten cry even louder.

    "Admiral! She''s hurt!" Baaru says.

    Jos�� doesn''t recognize the child. However, he still picks her up with his psionic potential, gingerly laying down the bodies afterward.

    "I''ll rush her to the medical bay," Jos�� says. "Good eyes, Baaru."

    The Kessu Matriarch doesn''t offer even a faint smile.

    "It''s... the best I can do. Only one survivor..."

    Unable to teleport anyone but himself, Jos�� levitates the meowing kitten all the way to the nearest medical bay, where he gently sets her down on an operating table. Penelope materializes next to him and scans the kitten within seconds.

    "Multiple cracked ribs," Penelope says. "However, these wounds are relatively superficial. A few hours in a Healing Tank and she will patch up just fine."

    "Do you know whose kitten she is?" Jos�� asks.

    "I do." Penelope answers. "This kitten is named Phina. Her parents are presumed dead."

    Jos�� lowers his eyes.

    "Oh."

    He leaves the medical bay to resume his search. Over the next few hours, he and the Kessu manage to locate and retrieve nearly a dozen survivors. Among them are three badly injured Kraktol, while the rest are all Kessu.

    After the Admiral levitates a Kraktol missing both of her legs to the medical bay, he leaves again, feeling momentarily exhausted.

    The Admiral staggers against a wall. Sweat drips from his forehead as his consciousness wavers.

    "Ohhh, Ramma, guide me. Umi, why do I feel as if I''m about to pass out and die? I''ve barely even exerted myself. My stamina should be much higher than this."

    Umi beeps in response. "Affirmative. According to your medical records, you should not yet be anywhere near your mental and physical limits, especially with your enhanced Kolvaxian body parameters. Based upon my previous calculations, your supply of energy should be essentially inexhaustible."

    Jos�� wipes the sweat off his forehead, inadvertently smearing dried blood across his skin. "I need to take a rest. I don''t remember the last time I felt this winded."

    As Jos�� stands against the wall, sucking in deep breaths, Centurion speaks once again.

    "ADMIRAL RODRIGUEZ. THE FULL EFFECTS OF PROJECT SUPREMACY ARE NOT ENTIRELY KNOWN. AS IT WAS ONLY EVER A THEORETICAL PROJECT, THERE WERE MANY POSSIBLE SIDE EFFECTS LISTED, BUT PROFESSOR BECKER COULD NOT KNOW ALL THE POSSIBLE OUTCOMES OF MERGING KOLVAXIAN AND TERRAN DNA. HOWEVER, ONE OF THE LISTED POSSIBILITIES INCLUDED A SIGNIFICANTLY GREATER TAXATION ON THE SUBJECT''S METABOLISM. SIMPLY PUT, YOUR BODY CAN OUTPUT AND WITHSTAND FAR MORE PSIONIC ENERGY. HOWEVER, THESE INCREASED LIMITS ALSO REQUIRE FAR MORE ENERGY TO SUPPLY THEM."

    Jos�� blinks. "So you''re saying, the more I use my psionic powers, the faster I''ll exhaust myself?"

    "AFFIRMATIVE. YOUR BODY CAN NOW HANDLE PSIONIC POWERS UP TO THE FOURTH INVOCATION; A SUBSTANTIAL POWER INCREASE FROM YOUR TERRAN BIOLOGICAL LIMITS. PREVIOUSLY, YOU COULD ONLY UNLEASH THE THIRD INVOCATION, AND ONLY BY STRESSING YOUR PHYSIOLOGY TO ITS ABSOLUTE LIMITS. WHILE YOUR MAXIMUM POWER HAS INCREASED TWENTY-FOLD, YOU WILL NEED TO CONSUME SIGNIFICANTLY MORE BIO-MATTER TO SUSTAIN ANY BURSTS OF PSIONIC POTENTIAL."

    The Admiral falls silent. He stares at the wall ahead of him, momentarily becoming lost in thought.

    "''Consuming more bio-matter.'' By that, you mean... devouring other sentients?"

    "AFFIRMATIVE. HOWEVER, KOLVAXIANS DO NOT NECESSARILY REQUIRE THE CONSUMPTION OF BIOLOGICAL ENTITIES. ONE SIDE EFFECT OF BECOMING A KOLVAXIAN IS THAT ANY WORLD WITH RICH AND FERTILIZED SOIL WILL CONTINUOUSLY SUPPLY YOU WITH AN ABUNDANCE OF ENERGY. IN AN ARTIFICIAL ENVIRONMENT, SUCH AS THE BLOODBEARER''S CONFINES, YOU WILL REQUIRE SUPPLEMENTAL NUTRITION."

    Jos�� nods. "That''s right. The Kolvaxians... they consumed and adapted life in all forms to enhance themselves. That''s why they were considered the worst bio-plague ever discovered. The number of sentients killed numbered in the septillions, but in the end, they lost when all the sentients unified to wipe them out."

    He pauses.

    "...Kolvaxians weren''t just heretical. They were the greatest heresy in the entire multiverse. For me to become one myself..."

    Umi beeps. "You are fortunate to be alive, Admiral. By now, you have already observed that the concepts of ''heresy'' were often bent and twisted by the Ramaldian leaders, as well as the rest of humanity. You are not a heretic. You are the ultimate weapon left behind by Ramma. You should continue to pursue your goals and advance Terrankind''s interests."

    Jos��''s expression shifts to disgust.

    "So I''m a monster, now. What else is new?"

    He flicks his eyes to a bunch of piled up corpses. In an instant, he picks out several Dakkit soldiers, as well as their Avaru comrades. Among them are multiple Kessu, and even a few Kraktol, all of whom wear the Admiral''s colors.

    He reaches out with his telekinesis, extracts the bodies of his enemies, and pulls them to himself.

    "Waste not, want not."

    The Admiral presses his palms against the figures of his fallen foes. Within seconds, a flood of green tendrils spreads out from his hands to engulf the bodies. He sucks the blood, bone, and marrow from their figures, drying them out and consuming them whole.

    Two minutes later, he stands up straight, his body restored somewhat. All that remains of his haphazard dinner are their clothes and weapons.

    "Heretical..." Jos�� murmurs. "So terribly, terribly heretical."

    The Admiral stomps down the corridor, resuming his search.

    An hour later, he reaches the other end of the Bloodbearer. With him and the Kessu having searched the Bloodbearer''s many rooms and facilities, only twenty surviving Kessu and Kraktol line the operating tables in several medbays.

    All the rest remain among the dead.

    Jos��''s expression darkens.

    "...I still haven''t found her."

    As the Admiral stands in the hallway, hesitating about what to do, Umi speaks.

    "Admiral. I believe I have detected a single life-sign located in the Bloodbearer''s ventilation ducts. My scanners are damaged and unable to provide detailed feedback, but I will transmit the location to you. Please investigate at once."

    "You did?" Jos�� asks. He pauses for a moment as Umi''s transmission enters his cerebral implant. A moment later, he teleports halfway across the Bloodbearer, arriving at an access panel in an out-of-the-way crawlspace. He drops to his hands and knees to shuffle forward, moving as quickly as he can. It only takes him fifteen seconds to arrive at the end of the duct inside a small room, one which triggers a faint memory.

    The Admiral stands up, finding himself faced with a control panel on a wall. This panel appears only once in his memories, at a point in time before his first death, when he first met a certain somebody on board the Bloodbearer.

    "Lele..."

    The Admiral recalls a vague memory of a bored kitten annoying him while he was trying to work. She pestered him and kept asking him questions until he relented by letting her help him fix the panel. After that, he put her on the fast track for officer promotion, discovering her latent talents for electronics and repairing gadgets.

    Jos�� whips his head from left to right. He spots several nearby ventilation ducts, one of which contains splatters of blood leading to its interior.

    "No..."

    The Terran drops to his knees. He crawls through the duct, traveling deeper into the Bloodbearer''s underbelly.

    Eventually, he arrives inside another small room, one with a stifling temperature due to a broken air conditioning conduit.

    The moment he enters, he freezes in place.

    Before him, on the ground, lays an unmoving Kessu.

    Her white fur, matted and soaked to the bone with blood, now appears more crimson than a Phoenix''s feathers.

    "Lele!" Jos�� shouts. "Lele!"

    He climbs out of the vent and rushes to her side. When he drops down to touch her, his heart stops.

    "No... no, she''s... she''s dead."

    Tears well up in the Terran''s eyes. Every one of his corneal sensors send her nonexistent vitals to him, revealing the truth of the matter once and for all.

    Science Officer Lele has fallen.

    The kitten who Jos�� once adored... who looked up to Jos�� as if she were his own daughter.

    Gingerly, Jos�� shifts her weight, as if afraid he''ll hurt her.

    "Come on... come on, baby girl. You''re okay. You''re just... just playing around... you''ll be fine... I can fix you up. I can-"

    When Jos�� flips Lele onto her back, he receives another shock.

    Lele''s arms wrap protectively around a kitten, held tightly in her grasp. This kitten, equally soaked in blood, shivers silently, not meowing in the slightest. Her eyes look straight forward, staring at the wall, as if traumatized beyond recognition.

    "...Lulu? Lulu, is... is that you?" Jos�� asks.

    Lele''s sister, Lulu, her father''s youngest child, hangs in her big sister''s grasp. Jos�� finally pieces together what happened, causing his tears of sorrow to turn to rage.

    The Mallali wounded Lele, but she crawled into the ventilation ducts while holding her little sister.

    Slowly, she bled out and died.

    Even with her life ebbing away, she did everything she could to protect her sister''s life.

    The Admiral carefully plucks the baby kitten out of Lele''s grasp. Lulu, small enough to fit in Jos��''s palm, curls into a ball and presses her bloody paws against her face. She doesn''t meow or cry out at all.

    The Admiral bites his lip.

    Never, in all the time since his awakening in this new galaxy, has he ever felt such a torrent of grief, rage, and helplessness. He sags to his knees while cradling Lulu against his chest.

    "Lele. I''m sorry. I''m so sorry. You were a good girl. You were... the best big sister."

    The Admiral nods his head, sending tears to fall against the deck. He rocks back and forth on his knees, while stroking Lele''s bloody fur.

    "I''ll... I''ll take care of Lulu. I''ll raise her myself. Your dad is still here. I''ll take care of him too. I''ll do better. I''ll protect the remaining Kessu with everything I''ve got."

    Jos�� picks up Lele and presses her against his chest, paying no attention to her blood running against his skin.

    "I won''t let the Mallali get away with this."

    "I''ll make them pay."

 Chapter 86: Hollow Man

    Strange scenes begin to take place aboard the Bloodbearer in the hours after the Admiral''s onslaught. After causing all of the Mallali to flee and slaying nearly all of his enemies in the local airspace, the area around Veter''s orbit becomes oddly silent.

    With so much blood and gore spread across the Bloodbearer''s interior, the surviving crewmembers suffer untold trauma. Not only must they walk amidst the fallen bodies of their comrades, but the ruptured remains of their enemies, too.

    Luckily, the Admiral possesses a certain amount of foresight. Using his newly enhanced psionic powers, the Admiral installs a set of operating directives into the brains of every captured Dakkit, Kraktol, and Avaru. He forces their minds into a state of compliance, turning them into conscripted janitors.

    Unable to control their movements, these makeshift crew-members shuffle about, cleaning up the remains of their exploded comrades while also hauling thousands of Kessu and Kraktol bodies into the Bloodbearer''s hangar bay, its biggest interior section across the entire ship. Any corpses which don''t belong to the Bloodbearer''s crew get tossed into a pile on one of the holodecks, providing a quick meal and a boost of energy for the Admiral.

    Jos�� himself, far busier than ever in his life, gets to work ripping apart entire Mallali battleships, fleet carriers, and capitol-class dreadnoughts. With over one thousand vessels left behind, he obtains plenty of untouched, prime-grade starship metals to re-plate and repair the Bloodbearer''s exterior. Using his psionic powers, he rips the Mallali fleet to shreds while using their remains to wholly rebuild the Bloodbearer. He performs the work of entire starship crews all on his own, only pausing every so often to return to the Bloodbearer and feed upon his enemy''s remains.

    Soren, likewise, tends to Grundle and the other injured, bringing them back to the world of the living. Despite not being much of a doctor, she can still provide them with some emotional support while also working to repair the Bloodbearer''s interior systems.

    After two full days, the Admiral lands on the Bloodbearer''s exterior. He controls a giant welding robot remotely, manipulating its huge welding tool with his psionic powers to slap another piece of armored alloy onto his ship''s top-most deck.

    "Admiral," Soren says, transmitting her words to his cerebral augment through Umi''s communication relay. "I''ve... found the saboteur."

    Jos�� pauses his welding. His expression turns to ice. He replies telepathically, transmitting his words through his implant.

    "Show me."

    A moment later, Soren transmits a series of images to his mind.

    "This is the Kessu who betrayed us. He snuck inside the Bloodbearer''s utility access lines and cut through several critical power cables. He also stole several command codes through means I''ve not yet identified, and used them to power down Umi''s internal defenses."

    The Admiral gnashes his teeth.

    "That... that little shitstain. Skippy, huh? I recognize him. I saw him talking to Lele in the past. I remember thinking he was a bit of a creep, but this... this is a new low. He sold out his entire goddamn species."

    "I recovered a full minute of transmitted video from the files you brought back from that one Mallali capitol ship. It shows Skippy bargaining for his life in exchange for declawing the Bloodbearer. Do you want to watch it?"

    "No." Jos�� replies. "I know his type. I can already guess what he''d say. It looks like we have another target to hit, in addition to the Alfras."

    "Yes," Soren says. "Also... your, uhm, prisoners... they''ve finished lining up the dead inside the hangar. All the missing crew are accounted for, except for Skippy."

    "I see. Gather the survivors in the hangar bay," Jos�� says. "I''ll be there in thirty minutes."

    "Yes, Admiral." Soren replies.

    ...

    The next thirty minutes pass like lightning. Jos�� continues rebuilding the Bloodbearer''s exterior, patching it up as best as he can. Eventually, he stops his work and flies back inside the ship, stopping by the holodeck for a quick Mallali-snack. He re-energizes his psionic abilities, as well as his Kolvaxian cells, then pauses to wipe his forehead. He observes his appearance in a deckplate''s reflection, grimacing at the mossy-coloration of his skin.

    "Tsk. My new abilities are certainly convenient... but it feels as if I will turn into something ghoulish if I keep this up. I can''t keep using my new powers willy-nilly... not until I find out my safety limits. The last thing I want is to turn into a full-blooded Kolvaxian."

    Nodding to himself, the Admiral exits the holodeck to travel to the Bloodbearer''s hangar bay.

    During his walk, he passes a few of the several-hundred captured Mallali operatives as they mop and scrub the Bloodbearer''s corridors. Like zombies, these fellows mechanically work without rest, cleaning and repairing anything their eyes glance at.

    The Admiral pauses at one point. He spots a Dakkit wearing a pair of raggedy blue overalls. The wolf-like sentient''s expression appears dead-eyed and miserable, as if he longs for death.

    "Look at you..." Jos�� mutters, just loud enough for the prisoner to hear. "You look like you want to die. Humiliating, isn''t it? All you can do is scrub, scrub, and scrub some more. Your paws look like they''ve blistered nicely. Even better, you''re completely conscious and aware of your actions. I wonder how many of my Kessu have spit in your face?"

    The Terran laughs cruelly. "Hehe. That''s a good sight. A real good sight. Keep up the good work, mutt. If you''re lucky, your body might die of exhaustion. And guess what happens after that?"

    He licks his lips while leaning in to look at his prisoner''s face.

    "You''ll become a snack for me. Your soul will never know rest. You''ll suffer eternally for what you''ve done. A fitting end for the likes of you. And yet, still, not nearly enough to pay for your crimes."

    The Admiral gurgles in his throat, causing the mindless Dakkit drone to shiver. As he walks away, a flicker of panic flashes across the Dakkit''s face.

    Sadly, the fellow cannot escape his mental shackles.

    The Terran has made sure of that.

    ...

    Admiral Rodriguez arrives in the hangar. An assortment of Kessu, as well as a handful of Kraktol, sit in hoverchairs or on boxes, waiting for his arrival. Soren stands before them, though not Grundle, given he has yet to fully recover from his injuries. Behind her, on the hangar bay''s deck, lay thousands of Kessu and Kraktol bodies, all covered up in white sheets to preserve their dignity.

    "Admiral." Soren says, nodding at Jos�� as he walks toward her.

    "First Officer Mudrose," He replies back.

    The Admiral stops by his First Officer''s side. He examines her expression, noting the dark lines under her eyes. She appears exhausted, as if she hasn''t slept since her return to the Bloodbearer two days before.

    "You should get some rest," Jos�� says.

    "You, first." She replies.

    The Admiral grunts. He turns his attention to the assembled crew. In addition to the twenty-something Kessu who holed up inside the Armory, an additional twenty survivors, found scattered across the Bloodbearer, often in miserable condition, appear among their numbers.

    Seeing the once-thriving crew of his ship in such a sorry state, the Admiral pauses for a moment to steady his mind.

    "Everyone."

    He pauses.

    "...I am sorry. For everything."

    The Kessu listen in silence, as do their surviving Kraktol brethren. Unlike the mind-shackled Kraktol currently cleaning up the Bloodbearer, these remaining few crocs make up the only survivors of the Bloodbearer''s original Kraktol crew, numbering merely five in total.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Jos�� continues. "I am your Admiral, and yet, I have failed you. I stoked the Mallali''s greed. I assumed that if they were to show up, looking for trouble, I could deal with them handily. I treated them as if they posed no threat, and in doing so... I created this disaster. I am the one who killed all of your family members. If you hate me, I do not blame you."

    These words cause the Admiral''s throat to momentarily lock up. He swallows a few times to unclench his muscles before continuing.

    "I... cannot undo what has happened. Nobody can. Changing the past is impossible. Therefore, there is only one thing left for us to do. We must look to the future, and we must rebuild. We must not repeat the mistakes of the past. We must learn from what has happened to ensure it will never happen again."

    The Admiral casts his gaze across all of the Kessu.

    "Your species will soon become extinct. The few of you who remain will not last more than two or three generations before inbreeding reaches fatalistic levels. There are likely a few thousand Kessu trapped in slavery across the Milky Way. A primary goal for us moving forward will be to liberate these poor felines and add them to our crew. Even so, that will not allow your species to thrive, only to survive."

    The Admiral gestures toward the rows upon rows of covered bodies behind him, each sheet telling the story of a lost friend or family member.

    "I have thought about what to do in a situation like this. Frankly, I have debated ways of bringing back my people, the Terrans. However, I do not believe it is my right to do so, especially when it could cause another extinction event across the entire galaxy. Until I have determined the reason behind humanity''s demise, I will not attempt to bring my people back. However, that does not mean I will not use the methods I''ve contemplated to save your species."

    Ruuki lifts his head. "Mraww. What do you mean, Admiral? I don''t understand."

    "Simple. I will begin cloning the Kessu to revitalize your species," Jos�� says. "It is time for your people to step out of the darkness. You have suffered terribly, and have long since paid off whatever ancient debts once maligned you."

    Jos�� gestures toward one of the Kessu survivors, a surprising and unexpected face Baaru found amid a pile of bodies just two days previous.

    "I spoke to Science Officer Lorrie yesterday on this matter. Lorrie. Would you be so kind?"

    A black-furred Kessu in a hoverchair slowly levitates forward. She stops next to Jos��, yet barely even looks at him. Instead, she turns her chair around and keeps her attention locked on the other Kessu.

    "...To combat the effects of genetic drift, I will be working with the Precursor to genetically engineer Kessu clones. We will not be directly cloning those who have fallen. As such a practice maligns the will of the Wind Mother, we will instead create randomized DNA samples from ourselves and our lost friends and family. Clones are not a replacement for those who have entered the Great Beyond. No matter how much we wish it, we cannot clone the ones we love to keep them alive forever."

    Many of the Kessu''s ears fall flat. They become dismayed, and their hearts tear in half as they hear the confirmation of several discussions they''ve had.

    None of the dead can simply be brought back through cloning. Doing so would only result in lookalikes of those who perished, yet their memories, thoughts, and souls would end up wholly different.

    Lorrie continues explaining the Admiral''s future plans in a voice both monotone and sorrowful. She holds back her emotions, speaking purely with logic.

    In the end, she sighs.

    "We will save our species, and it won''t take long. However, those who have died will never again walk the realm of the living. Rejoice that we have survived, but never forget those who have perished."

    The Admiral nods. "Thank you, Science Officer, Lorrie."

    The Kessu female doesn''t look at him once. She merely hovers back to her original position, then lowers her eyes, unwilling to meet the Admiral''s gaze.

    Jos�� pauses for a few moments, quietly taking in her silence.

    Lorrie blames me for Lele''s death. Jos�� thinks. How can I fault her, when I also blame myself? Lele was like a daughter to me. She was Lorrie''s favorite niece, her prot��g��. With Lele gone, Lorrie must feel broken and despondent.

    Jos�� glances at Ruuki. The tiger-striped Kessu holds his youngest daughter, Lulu, in his arms. The baby kitten doesn''t make a sound. She merely stares ahead, silently.

    Admiral Rodriguez clears his throat.

    "Of course, saving the Kessu isn''t enough. We have suffered too much to let bygones be bygones. Over the past two days, I''ve spoken to all of you in private. I know your thoughts, and you know mine. So, let''s cut to the chase."

    He continues. "We will not allow the Mallali to slip from our grasp. Right now, the ones who took our happiness from us are escaping at warp speed. They intend to hide from us, to gather their power, and to return, finishing us off in one strike."

    Jos�� forces a wry grin, a toothy smile that speaks of his inner malice.

    "Heh heh heh... unfortunately for them, we are not cattle waiting for the butcher''s knife to meet our necks. We are Ramma''s Chosen. We will surprise our attackers. We will overcome them. Shatter them. Break them. And in the end... slaughter them. We will unleash upon them ten thousand times the horrors they have unleashed upon us. And in doing so..."

    His grin fades.

    "...Only then will our loved ones sleep soundly in the Great Beyond."

    After concluding his speech, the Admiral nods and walks away. Soren follows after him, eventually matching his stride as she falls into position beside him.

    "That was a... good speech, Jos��."

    The Admiral sighs. "Thank you."

    "Lorrie will forgive you, eventually," Soren says. "She just needs time."

    "I don''t want her forgiveness," The Admiral mutters. "I want Lele back."

    "We all do." Soren says.

    The two of them continue walking. After exiting the hangar bay, Soren pipes up.

    "Grundle is going to wake up in a few weeks. Umi has finished scanning and repairing the injured parts of his brain. Physical therapy to restore his movement will require about a year, but after that, he should return to his original condition. He''ll have a nasty scar across his chest and back, but... that''s a small price to pay. Terran medical engineering is nothing short of miraculous."

    "Yes. It''s quite good." Jos�� affirms, nodding gruffly.

    Soren glances at her Admiral, then looks away. She repeats this movement three or four times, her expression anxious.

    "Jos��, I know you''ve been having a hard time, but... you don''t have to repair the Bloodbearer by yourself. The Kessu-"

    "They don''t need to help," Jos�� says. "I''ll handle it. I''ve plenty of cadavers to refill my energy. If I run out, I can grab some animals from Veter''s surface."

    "This isn''t only your job," Soren says, her tone more firm than before. "You shouldn''t do everything yourself. You think you''re giving the survivors time to heal while you do all the work, but all you''re doing is making them feel guilty. They want to help, Jos��. Right now, all they do is sit around and wallow in their misery. A bit of work would give them something to focus their minds on."

    The Admiral pauses his walking. He stops a short distance before a pair of Dakkit, both of whom work on cleaning up the last patches of dried blood in their designated hallway space.

    "Do you think the Kessu should return to work so soon after losing 99% of their species?" Jos�� asks. "They need time to cope. To dwell on the past and remember their fallen."

    "And what about you?" Soren asks. "Are you going to work yourself to the bone?"

    "No," Jos�� says. "I only have one goal right now. I want to make the Bloodbearer spaceworthy again. Once I repair the exterior and you repair the warp core, we will enter Inverted Space. At that point, time won''t be an issue anymore."

    "Fine, fair enough," Soren says, crossing her arms. "But what about... these... things? These mindless drones? Jos��, you''ve always waxed philosophical about the horrors of slavery, yet what you''re doing to these captured soldiers goes against everything you''ve told me before. Not only that, but seeing the monsters walking about who killed their family is only stressing the Kessu further."

    Jos�� glances at the two nearby Dakkit.

    "Don''t worry. They won''t be around forever. Hell, they won''t be around much longer. Once they''ve served their purpose... I''ll dispose of them."

    "That''s not my point. Jos��, don''t you think you''re betraying your convictions?" Soren asks. "Kyargh! I''m not saying you shouldn''t enslave the Dakkit. I''m not saying we shouldn''t get revenge against the Dakkit. I''m only saying... it feels as if you''re betraying yourself. Your morality."

    The Admiral''s eyes turn to steel.

    "That''s right, Soren. I am. From the very beginning, I never wanted to become a part of this galaxy''s politics. I never wanted to take part in their petty squabbles, their power-games. They came to me. They took the fight to me. Since they''re so desperate to awaken my wrath... then so be it. They''ll get what they deserve."

    He turns to face the Dakkit drones.

    "Once upon a time, I''d never have entertained treating anyone like this. Not my enemies, and certainly not prisoners. But... maybe I''ve been too kind. Too na?ve. That''s why the Mallali were able to attack us. I assumed the best of people I knew to be genuine monsters. Now... I only want these prisoners to suffer."

    Soren frowns. "You''re... acting strange, Jos��."

    The Admiral waves away her concern.

    "No. I''m finally acting decisively. No more forgiveness, and no more mercy. Now is the time for action. Are you going to stand there and chide me, or are you going to assist me? I thought you said you''d always follow my orders?"

    Soren rubs her tired eyes.

    "Of course, Jos��. Since the very beginning, I swore I''d do whatever you commanded. I want to see what you will achieve. It''s more important to me than anything else in the galaxy."

    The Admiral glances at his First Officer meaningfully.

    "...Even if that means making an enemy of the Kraktol Empire? Even if that means... exterminating them?"

    Soren blinks twice.

    "Yes. Although... I hope you won''t go that far. Loreen Kindris commanded our people, and they followed her will. With her gone, Kisa shall become the new Th��lvik. Do you hate Kisa as much as you hated Loreen? Will you make her pay the price for her mother''s sins?"

    Jos�� averts his eyes to gaze at the far wall.

    "I don''t hate Kisa, no. And I don''t want to hurt her. But this is bigger than just one Kraktol. This is about... degeneration. Rot. And when it comes to a rotting foundation, it needs to be torn out by its roots."

    He flicks his eyes to meet Soren''s.

    "Will you be able to accept any order I give? Even if it is... extreme?"

    "Of course," Soren says, softening her voice. "And no matter what you choose, Jos��, I will stay by your side. I won''t resent you for your decision."

    Jos�� purses his lips.

    "You''re a good friend, Soren. A good friend."

    His First Officer doesn''t reply. She merely lowers her eyes.

    After a few moments, Jos�� pulls away.

    "I want the Bloodbearer ready for warp travel within three days. Can you manage that, or do you require assistance?"

    Soren shrugs. "A little help wouldn''t hurt."

    "Alright. I''ll ask the Kessu if they can pitch in. As long as we can quickly enter Inverted Space, we won''t face any time constraints, ever again."

    "Very well." Soren replies.

    She starts to walk away, but pauses to look at her Admiral.

    "Jos��?"

    The Admiral blinks. "Yes?"

    "Are you... still human?" Soren asks, ever so softly.

    "I am what I am." Jos�� answers.

    "I see. I''ll be... heading to work, now."

    "Alright." Jos�� replies.

    The Bloodbearer''s First Officer turns and leaves.

    As she does, a weight presses upon her shoulders.

    "He feels... so different... now."

 Chapter 87: Interception

    Admiral Rufus, fleet commander of the Dakkit Empire, and current Admiral of the White Death, stands at attention aboard his vessel''s bridge. A timer counts down on the screen before him, while his officers sit in their seats, quietly checking various readings and metrics about their vessel''s conditions.

    Already, ten days have passed since their escape from the Veter system. Most of the seasoned crew and veteran officers have calmed down, but an air of tension lingers as they cannot help but recall the horrifying acts of destruction a single Terran unleashed against their fleet. In all their years, never have the current galactic leaders felt like such helpless puppies before a flesh-eating monster.

    The Admiral himself stands tall, projecting an air of authority. However, unseen by his crew, Rufus''s bones minutely quiver in fear. He recalls all too well that even with more than three hundred years leading the flagship of the Dakkit Empire, not once has he ever suffered such a horrendous setback as he did just two weeks before.

    The Terran crushed our ships one-by one. He toyed with us. All this time... he possessed such a superweapon, yet he did not use it until we forced his hand.

    The Admiral flicks his eyes to the main monitor, just as a crew-member pipes up.

    "Bark! Admiral, one minute until we exit hyperspace and regain connection with our fleet!"

    Rufus doesn''t reply. He merely nods.

    In hyperspace, individual ships lose connection with the galaxy outside. Only by accessing the Galactic Net through quantum entanglement nodes can they maintain contact, but doing so will allow anyone to snoop on the signal, provided they can hack the transmission feed.

    Therefore, unless in an emergency, the Admiral would never allow his fleets to do such a thing. Only if someone were to directly pursue them with a superior fleet would he allow intra-hyperspace communication.

    Luckily, my people thrashed the Terran''s hyperdrive. It will take him at least a month to rebuild it and to make his ship barely spaceworthy. Once we return to Enchillon, we can gather our forces and rebuild our fleet. We''ll call in favors from all of our allies. They won''t dare to stay idle after they see the power this Terran can unleash. If we all gather our might, we should be able to kill him, once and for all.

    The Admiral''s face flickers with rage.

    Goddamn you, Benjiro! What have you done? How could you toy around with this Precursor after knowing what his people were capable of? Don''t you remember the tales we heard, growing up? We''ve seen the records. We''ve all learned bits and pieces of their planet-scarring wars. You should have killed him when you had the chance; atomized his body!

    The Admiral maintains his rock-steady expression. He glances at his Communications Officer.

    "Borf! The moment we arrive, establish contact with the Black Death. We will gather together all the senior officers to have a word with the Alfras."

    "Yes, Admiral. Ten seconds until we exit hyperspace."

    The time ticks past, agonizingly slowly.

    Finally, the stars outside the window shift and shudder, as if a distortion bubble has popped. The White Death hums, transmitting a faint vibration through the floor into the feet of every sentient on board.

    Rufus''s First Officer speaks. "We''ve arrived in the Enchillon system, Admiral-"

    "Bark! Sir!" Another officer says, interrupting his superior. "The rest of the fleet arrived ten seconds before us! They''re transmitting a Priority One message!"

    Immediately, all of the lights on the Bridge change color, shifting to blood red.

    A message appears on the main viewscreen.

    RED ALERT. THE BLOODBEARER HAS ARRIVED FIRST.

    Rufus''s fur stands on end.

    "No... that''s impossible! There must be a mistake!"

    .......................................

    The moment the final Dakkit ship emerges from hyperspace, a transmission beams outward from the awaiting 50th-Era Dreadnought, the vessel belonging to the Terran himself.

    Like a predator which has hidden in the ocean''s depths, only to spring a trap on the creatures above, his starship hangs within the blackness of space at the edge of the Mallali fleet''s exit point. Though outnumbered nine thousand to one, the sheer arrogance behind his appearance, against all odds, makes the Mallali feel as if a Sword of Damocles has sprung into place over their heads.

    Across every vessel, the Terran''s face materializes on their viewscreens. His facial hair seems much thicker and fuller than before, making it look as if he has spent several years growing it out. His eyes, dark and somewhat sunken-in, contrast with his slightly greenish skin, giving him a monstrous aura.

    "Dakkit Empire. Mallali heretics. You thought you escaped me. You did not. You took away everything I held dear. I am a righteous man. I punish those who commit acts of evil... and yet few Terrans I have encountered would sink to the same levels as you. I''ve spent the last decade debating what punishment would suit you best... and I have made my decision."

    The Terran leans forward.

    "Extermination. Just as you struck at those I loved, I will do the same to you. My people did nothing to harm you, and yet you slaughtered them like cattle. Expect no mercy from me, for you shall receive none. This concludes our negotiations. Now, please. Take your time dying. I want to savor your deaths."

    His face winks away, not allowing any chance for a response.

    Across nine thousand vessels, the crews report scatterings of bad, very bad, terrible, and outright awful news.

    "The Bloodbearer''s hull has been completely repaired! We''ve observed thousands of tons of starship alloys scavenged from the vessels we left behind!"

    "A fleet of 50th-Era interceptors were waiting for our arrival! They''re moving to attack!!"

    "All three battlestations in the Enchillon system are... they''re gone! Completely destroyed! The Terran must have annihilated them before we arrived!"

    "Sir, we can''t access the Galactic Net! The Terran has installed a virus, taking it over completely! We can''t connect to our fleets across the galaxy! We can''t call for help!"

    ...

    Dozens of reports flood through the local communication channels, bombarding Admiral Rufus with countless pieces of terrible news. For a split-second, the Dakkit officer momentarily considers fleeing his post. In all his years, never has such a shameful thought occurred to him, but now, faced with this relentless, unstoppable enemy, he suffers the same terror a pup might feel when its mother comes home to find her squeaky-clean floor soiled.

    Rufus pushes that stray thought away. He grits his teeth and barks at the nearest officers.

    "Borf! Do not lose hope! We still outnumber our enemy! Start feeding detailed logistics to all the ships in our fleet! Scan the Terran''s ship for faults! He must have patched it up somehow with... with his Terran gadgets! Such a quick, slipshod rebuild will have left countless vulnerabilities. And you there, scramble our own fighters! He''s only fielded three hundred interceptors. That''s nothing compared to our fifteen thousand!"

    As a well-seasoned veteran of more than a dozen major wars, Rufus takes command with elegance and grace. Authority radiates from his body, allowing his officers to regain some of their confidence, which in turn travels downstream to the lowest deck-hands and other Mallali crew.

    A massive battle ensues.

    Spread across five thousand kilometers of space, the initial salvos of long-range weaponry travel toward each other. Even at the speed of light, it would take a split-second for lasers to cross such a distance, and their effectiveness will always fall off over such a range as their particles spread out and diffuse.

    Therefore, the first salvos come in the form of missiles and other such explosive ordinances. The Terran''s Dreadnought stuns the Mallali by immediately deploying two thousand long range missiles, sending them flying toward three of the fleet''s dreadnoughts. He ignores the small fry, instead aiming for their most powerful vessels.

    Rufus frowns. "Time before impact?"

    "One minute, seventeen seconds!" Comes the reply.

    The Admiral''s expression turns dark.

    How did the Terran rebuild so many missile launchers? We annihilated the Bloodbearer''s weaponry and outer hull, yet our scans have revealed that not only has he fully rebuilt the ship''s exterior, but all of its weapon systems, too. Even stranger, he has added hundreds of new weapons, turning the Bloodbearer into a veritable assault platform!

    But... how did he manage such a feat in only ten days? Is the Terran a wizard? Can he conjure technology out of thin air?!

    On any other day, Rufus might cast aside such an idiotic thought. However, faced with the truth before him now, he can only come up with such a wild theory, given he knows nothing about the mechanics behind Inverted Space.

    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    A minute later, the Mallali armada fires back, unleashing hundreds of point-defense missiles, laser beams, and ballistic ordinances. They tear through the Bloodbearer''s missiles, shredding them to pieces. Not a single long range rocket makes it into their battle lines, though plenty of small and large pieces of scrap bang harmlessly against various ship hulls.

    "We''ve deployed our interceptors, Admiral. The ship quality difference is much larger than we thought, though. 35th-Era Interceptors are far slower and less agile than 50th-Era Interceptors. Additionally, the Terran''s ships seem to move with uncanny precision; we believe they must be pilotless drones! There''s a synthmind controlling them!"

    Rufus nods. "Good. That''s good news! See if we can hack their systems! The Terran must not have many crew members left. We only counted twenty or so Kessu left before we wiped out all of his forces, and that certainly isn''t enough crew to staff such a massive flagship! His synthmind will be spreading itself thin, making it possible for us to hack the machine!"

    Rufus''s communication''s officer nods. She transmits his orders to the rest of the fleet, and all of them begin activating their hacking protocols to try and disrupt the superior interceptors.

    Across Rufus''s primary viewscreens, thousands of green and red dots continue to battle. The Bloodbearer sits alone, a single dot placed a sizable distance away from a sea of his enemies, while his comparatively tiny interceptors weave around the edges of the Mallali fleet''s periphery. Outnumbered fifty to one, the Terran''s fighters engage in a hellish dogfight, slugging it out with the Mallali fleet''s superior numbers. Not only must the Terran''s ships avoid the weapon-fire of the enemy interceptors, but also the point-defense weaponry of the Mallali fleet.

    Even so, the 50th-Era ships perform so incredibly that they barely suffer a scratch!

    "Sir! We''ve lost six hundred interceptors!" One of the White Death''s officers reports. "Bark! We just can''t land a clean hit! Even if we do, their armor systems are superior to our fighters. Only a Destroyer or Cruiser-grade weapon will be able to take them out!"

    "Noted." Rufus growls. "Focus fire! Target each interceptor one-by-one. Even if we only take out ten or twenty, we''ll lower their united firepower by at least five percent! They won''t be able to cover their own backsides."

    "Two more rocket salvos, incoming!" Barks another officer. "The Bloodbearer has begun its approach! It''s closing the gap!"

    Rufus bunches up his claws into a fist. "Grrr! That arrogant Terran! He wants to fight us in close-combat? Fine! But keep an eye out for his superweapon. If you detect its appearance, alert me, immediately."

    "Yes, Admiral." Replies Rufus''s First Officer. "But sir, if it does appear, will we flee again? If we do, we''ll consign Enchillon to the grave!"

    Rufus hesitates.

    "...The Terran isn''t stupid. Arrogant, yes, but stupid, no. He won''t dare to lay a paw on a civilian world. That would be an act of war which would allow us to call together all of our allies! He''d have to be an imbecile to do such a thing..."

    Rufus trails off. Despite his strong stance, his inner thoughts run counter to his public statements.

    After all, the Terran did use that one specific term...

    Extermination.

    But... surely... the Terran would not go so far as to involve the helpless civilian population?

    The Admiral keeps those dark thoughts to himself.

    "We must win. We must defeat this ancient monster today. We cannot allow him to escape!"

    His fleet accelerates, moving toward the Terran to speed up their attack. At the same time, Rufus finally receives a piece of good news.

    "We''ve taken down two of the Terran''s interceptors! Three! We caught them in a focused cross-fire!"

    The Mallali warships build up a bit of combat momentum, increasing their morale. By the time the Terran''s missile salvo arrives, they''ve already shrunken the gap between themselves and their enemy by twenty percent. Ten of the Terran''s interceptors lay in ruins, compared to a thousand of theirs.

    Rufus snarls to himself.

    Even if we take out all three hundred of the Terran''s fighters, we will have paid a heavier price than him. Every one of our fighters has two seasoned pilots crewing them, while the Terran only loses metal and circuitry. He''s not risking any of his crew''s lives! Perhaps, to him, this theater of war is little more than an elaborate game.

    Rufus''s ships fire their point defense lasers. They wipe out the incoming missiles, even as the Terran launches another wall of explosive ordinance.

    "Does the Terran only know how to shoot missiles?" Rufus asks, his question mostly rhetorical. "Why does he draw closer? I don''t understand. Is he planning to unleash his super-weapon?"

    Finally, after more than twenty minutes, the Bloodbearer draws into range of the Mallali''s mid-ranged weapons. Lasers and ballistics go online, with the Mallali concentrating all of their fire on the approaching Dreadnought.

    "Minimal damage, so far," Says the communications officer. "The Terran has begun firing back. As expected, the Bloodbearer''s armor and weaponry are far superior to our fleet. The gap between 45th and 50th-Era warships are not insignificant. He''s already torn apart three of our close-range Cruisers and seventeen Destroyers."

    "Another missile salvo incoming! They''re too close for us to shoot them all down!"

    Rufus grimaces. "Prioritize protecting the ships with weaker armor! Our capitals can take a few hits!"

    "Yes, Admiral!"

    The Dakkit Admiral begins pacing as he flicks his eyes from one screen to another. Different readouts appear, making him almost want to smile.

    We''ve eliminated a hundred of the Terran''s interceptors. We''re landing hits against his ships. Everything seems to be going well. But... why do I get this creeping feeling that we''re playing right into a trap? Why would he choose to face us head-on? Is he going to use his super-weapon, again? If so, why has he waited so long to deploy it?

    At that moment, a communication request appears on the Admiral''s personal wristband. He glances at it and scowls.

    "Damn. The Alfras, and now of all times?"

    He taps a button, causing Benjiro''s face to appear on his communicator''s screen.

    "Grawf! Admiral, I do not like having my life put in danger," Benjiro says. "You must arrange for myself and the other higher-ups an escape craft."

    Rufus growls, keeping his voice low. "With all due respect, Benjiro, that is a stupid idea. The Terran''s interceptors are still out there. If you leave on anything smaller than a Destroyer, you''ll be asking for the Terran''s ships to concentrate their fire on you. And if you take a ship that''s bigger, you''ll weaken our offense."

    "I don''t care!" Benjiro growls. "I am the Alfras! Saving my life takes top priority."

    "Brother..." Rufus growls. "You are too selfish. Too greedy. You might be the Alfras, but we share the same blood. Do you think my life is worth less than yours?!"

    "Grawf. You are our father''s 61st pup. I am his firstborn. Naturally, my value is higher than yours," Benjiro says, his face shifting to a smirk. "But that is beside the point. One less ship won''t cause you any trouble. I need-"

    Before Benjiro can continue, Rufus swipes his paw across the screen, turning it off.

    "Borf. Screw you. I have a battle to fight."

    Rufus regains his focus. He pays close attention to the engagement outside as his officers report back several momentum shifts.

    "We''ve shot down more than two hundred of the Terran''s interceptors. They aren''t able to effectively evade our point defenses anymore!"

    "The Bloodbearer has stopped its approach and halted at one thousand kilometers away, but our fleet is continuing to advance. The Bloodbearer is now firing gauss rounds at our ships! We''ve lost two cruisers and seven destroyers in the last minute!"

    "We''re firing back. Direct hit! We''ve caused minor damage to the Bloodbearer''s armor!"

    "Our fleet is converging their beams. We''ve started melting through the Bloodbearer''s forward-plating. It''s retaliating- two destroyers lost!"

    More and more good news pours into the Bridge. To Rufus''s surprise, the Terran still doesn''t unleash his super-weapon. Instead, like some kind of crazed idiot, Admiral Rodriguez stands still and takes a beating, allowing the Bloodbearer to suffer the pummeling of a lifetime.

    Dozens and dozens of destroyers, cruisers, and capital-class ships arrive within weapons range of the Bloodbearer. Their concentrated firepower, while weak at first, rapidly begins piling up. The Terran''s ship loses dozens of missile-launching systems, suffers catastrophic armor damage along half a kilometer of its forward-section, and even begins to falter in its aggression.

    The more Rufus''s fleet wins, the more hesitant he grows.

    We''re missing something. It''s as if the Bloodbearer itself is... just a diversion. Is this all just a bit of theatrics for the Terran? Or have we overestimated him? Is the bastard simply braindead after suffering a half-death and that strange revival?

    One of Rufus''s officers reports. "We''ve detected multiple secondary explosions inside the Bloodbearer''s weapon systems! Our attacks have detonated the ship''s internal explosive ordinances. The Bloodbearer is suffering a feedback loop. If this continues, the whole Dreadnought will break apart!"

    Cheers erupt on the White Death''s bridge, along with several other Mallali warship bridges. Countless crew members laugh to themselves about what a pitiful foe the Terran has proven, and how he has wildly overestimated his battle capabilities.

    "It''s true what they say. One ship cannot defeat an entire armada!"

    "We''ve taken out the last interceptor. Our only remaining enemy is the Bloodbearer!"

    More and more good news reaches Rufus''s ears. He nods slowly, taking in the information, even as the Mallali press their advantage.

    "Give no quarter. Borf! Blow the Bloodbearer to scrap. I''d rather ensure that Terran stays dead than worry about capturing his ship intact. We''ll make do with the scraps of his 50th-Era technology."

    Rufus recalls the bit of intel he received after their failure ten days before.

    We may have lost control of the Bloodbearer, but we succeeded in obtaining a few files regarding 50th-Era ship construction techniques. Even if we gain nothing else, the Dakkit Empire will still hold a vast advantage over the other sentients.

    At that moment, Rufus receives some bad news.

    "Admiral! The Bloodbearer is preparing to enter warp! We''ve detected gravimetric fluctuations!"

    "No!" Rufus barks, his expression turning to horror. "Take out his engines! Don''t let him escape! If he flees, he could go anywhere! We need to take that ship out, right here and now!"

    Hardly have the words left Rufus''s mouth before the red blip on his screen, the only enemy ship in the entire star-sector, disappears.

    Two seconds of silence swallow the White Death''s bridge.

    "...What? He''s gone?" Rufus asks, blinking three times. "How... how could the Terran spin up his warp coils so quickly? That jump didn''t take ten seconds! Even the fastest Corvettes require a full minute, let alone a god-damned capital ship!"

    Nobody immediately answers. Several of the Mallali officers open and close their mouths, aghast that their prey has somehow fled right from under their noses.

    "S-sir..." One of the Dakkit officers says, speaking up timidly. "I can try to track his flight path. Give me a minute."

    Rufus takes a step back. He plops in his Admiral chair, sighing deeply.

    "Borf. Make it so."

    Not ten seconds later, another officer practically jumps out of her seat. "Aaaiyee! It''s not- that''s impossible! Admiral, Admiral! A ship has just warped into Enchillon''s orbit! It''s... it''s the Bloodbearer!"

    Her voice jumps two octaves. "Oh, ancestors! The ship... it''s fully repaired! How is this happening? It doesn''t look as if it''s taken a speck of damage!"

    Rufus jumps out of his chair. Immediately, his mind goes back to full alert. "What do you mean, ''fully repaired''? Explain!"

    "The Bloodbearer no longer bears a single scar! It''s as if the Terran has reset it back to pristine condition!"

    Another officer whimpers and whines. "Aaooo... is that... something 50th-Era ships can do? Is the ship... immortal?"

    "Unlikely!" Rufus barks. "This must be a trick! It''s a hologram! A projection! Scan the Bloodbearer more closely, look for-"

    Suddenly, the White Death shudders. Multiple alerts appear on the primary viewscreen, even as the security officer pipes up.

    "Hull breach on Deck Two! Something has collided with the White Death!"

    "Is it the Terran?" Rufus asks.

    "No, sir! It''s something metallic. A ship! It''s a small frigate... our scans aren''t able to penetrate its exterior but, optics confirms... it''s the Slipstream! The Terran''s stealth-craft shuttle!"

    "Intruder alert!" Barks another officer. "Multiple hostiles have come aboard! They''re... Kraktol and Kessu! Over a hundred in total! What in blazes?!"

    The ships'' viewscreen blinks a communication alert. Reflexively, Rufus accepts the request, only to find the Terran staring back at him. His facial hair appears to have grown even bushier, giving him a werewolf-like appearance.

    "Ten more years, gone." Admiral Rodriguez says. "A drop in the bucket. Whether it takes me ten years or ten thousand... your fleet will fall. Your empire will crumble. Your species will disappear into the history books. You cannot stop me. You cannot even resist me. There are many creatures in the universe more terrifying than I, but in this galaxy...?"

    The Terran chuckles evilly.

    "Heh heh heh. There is no comparison."

    His face winks away, leaving the Dakkit to stare at the viewscreen in silent horror.

 Chapter 88: Humanity, Lost

    A thunderstorm of boots crashes against the deck-plates of the Dakkit mothership, the Capital-Class ''White Death.'' Thousands of soldiers rush toward Deck Two, near the rear of their rectangular vessel''s engine bay. Outfitted with top of the line 45th-Era weaponry and armor, they stand at the apex of the Milky Way''s modern civilizations.

    And yet, faced with the horrors boarding their ship, the Dakkit feel only inferiority and fear. Compared to Terran-trained troops equipped with 50th-Era equipment, the Dakkit are little more than disobedient pups begging for a spanking from their mothers.

    The first wave of Dakkit soldiers arrives inside the corridor less than thirty seconds after the enemies have boarded their ship. Even so, they stumble upon a bloodbath, finding more than three hundred support personnel lying dead, blood and entrails spilling out of their bodies. A hail of gunfire falls upon the Dakkit reinforcements, forcing them to dive behind cover.

    "Graugh!" Bellows a deep, masculine voice. "Foolish mutts! Your leader has consigned you to oblivion! He has angered my master, and therefore, he has angered me! I am Grundle, hear me roar!"

    A ten-foot-tall Kraktol, much bigger than when the Dakkit last saw him just ''ten days'' before, stomps forward, wading through the gunfire as if the deadly weaponry were little more than foam pellets splashing against his armor. On his shoulder stands his battle-buddy, the comparatively tiny Kessu known as Ruuki.

    "Skreow!" Ruuki roars, his voice deep like a tiger. "Eat lead! Eat shit and die! I won''t rest until every last one of you murderers falls to my claws!"

    Both warriors sport incomparably shiny, silver-tinted armor covering every inch of their bodies. Ruuki''s appears much slimmer, affording him less protection but far more flexibility, while Grundle''s works exactly the opposite, turning him into a walking tank. The other Kraktol and Kessu behind them, numbering one hundred in total, wear only slightly less-shiny armor.

    Ruuki pounces off Grundle''s shoulder. His body becomes a blur as he races across the floor, dodging bullets and lasers thanks to his suit''s predictive algorithms. He disappears from Grundle''s view, tearing into the rear flanks of his Dakkit enemies and causing them to scream in pain. All Grundle sees for a split-second is blood spraying from behind a giant crate before a Dakkit commando slumps to the side, all life having fled from his body.

    Grundle himself doesn''t slack off. He stomps toward that same group of enemies and rips them apart, tearing their bodies in half with the same ease a monkey might split a banana. No matter what weapons fire in his direction, he doesn''t take the slightest damage.

    "Pitiful worms!" Grundle howls. "Graugh! You are too weak! You are ALL too weak!"

    On the upper decks of the White Death, Admiral Rufus frantically issues commands to the fleet as a whole, and his ship''s internal defenses.

    "Borf! Lead the intruders to Deck Four! Assemble our best troops there! Lay down our heaviest defenses and pin them in a crossfire! I''ll evacuate the VIPs through Decks Twelve and Thirteen!"

    The Admiral shoots sparing glances between the Dakkit military fleet and his internal defenses. To his alarm, the Precursor''s ship begins moving toward the White Death, ignoring the bullets and rockets raining upon its bulkheads as if they don''t matter in the slightest.

    However, with the imminent threat of Kraktol and Kessu intruders occupying his mind, he cannot command the fleet formation a tenth as effectively as before. Rufus delegates much of the work to his subordinates, opting to pay as much attention as possible to the boarding party.

    As the minutes pass, Grundle and his comrades easily clean out Deck Two, wiping away all of their enemies from existence.

    "Graugh! Ground Commander Grundle!" Roars a second Kraktol, as he drops to one knee. "Sir! We have eliminated all hostiles on this deck! The Great Betrayer and the Mallali Leaders all reside on Deck Ten. However, the Dakkit have assembled an ambushing party on Deck Four!"

    Grundle pounds his metal-plated fist against his armor. "What ambush? What Dakkit troops? Crush those pups! Show them the might of my Admiral! Let them taste the same fear my brothers and sisters faced!"

    "Yes, commander!"

    The second Kraktol takes his leave, while Ruuki darts forward and springs into the air, landing on Grundle''s shoulder.

    "Mreow! I killed twenty-five. You?"

    Grundle snorts. "Twenty-seven! We must pump those rookie numbers up! How can our troops respect us if we do not kill three times the pups they do? Let us lay waste to these stupid mutts!"

    Grundle pauses for a split second. He glances toward Ruuki and nods, lowering his voice.

    "For Lele."

    Ruuki nods.

    "For all of our family."

    The two of them lead the charge, barreling through the emptied-out Deck Three and straight into the ambush on Deck Four. They arrive on the shuttle servicing deck filled with wide open spaces and countless positions for cover. Turrets hastily bolted to the floor mix with the ship''s internal defenses, unloading walls of bullets, plasma, and explosives on the Kraktol and Kessu combatants.

    "You will not stop this croc!" Grundle roars. "You are still too wet behind the ears, you ugly pugs!"

    Unlike the initial waves of Dakkit guards, those hastily thrown onto Deck Two to stall the Terran''s invaders, the troops positioned on Deck Four come from a finer breed of warriors. They wield superior weaponry and armor, and move in combat formations to power up their attacks.

    Two Dakkit wielding melee weaponry and shields move forward, their blue-colored armor glimmering under the ship''s annoyingly bright internal lighting. Behind them, half a dozen shotgunners take aim, firing powerful spreads of superheated lead at the intruders. Some of the Kraktol suffer minor wounds, but most of them power through the heavily fortified defensive embattlements, while their Kessu allies leap to the ceiling and magnetically attach to the exo-plates. They skitter along the roof, alarming the Dakkit as the four-foot-tall kitty-cats zip past the Dakkit''s defenses.

    "Shoot those Kessu!" One of the Dakkit field commanders barks. "Blast them! Don''t let them get close!"

    While Grundle''s fist meets the head of a Dakkit general, his battle-buddy pounces at the backlines, ripping through the Dakkit defenders with ease. Ruuki momentarily loses himself in bloodlust, tearing through their armor with his metallic claws. He shreds the Dakkit into mincemeat, causing them to yip and howl in fear.

    It takes a full twenty minutes, but eventually, Grundle''s forces kill the last defender, giving them full control of Deck Four.

    "Losses?" Grundle asks.

    "One Kraktol fatality, sir!" Comes the immediate reply. "Otherwise, only light injuries."

    Grundle gnashes his teeth. He glances backward, where he spots one of his fallen sisters.

    "BASTAAARDS! That''s one too many. Come on! We will avenge our cute little sister! Let''s nab that traitor, and his mutt-master, too!"

    Enraged by the death of just a single soldier, the Terran''s troops storm forward as if stimulated into a frightening bloodlust. Having eliminated the mightiest soldiers aboard the White Death, all that remains are merely the most average troops, those who haven''t fought in genuine combat in years. Despite being well-trained, not even a hundred of them can compare to just a single one of the Terran''s elite shock troops.

    Meanwhile, on Deck Fourteen.

    The Alfras and his fellow Mallali leaders, including Leevoo the Observant, pile into a transport ship, readying themselves for a daring escape.

    "Mraww! W-what about me?" Meows a solitary Kessu, a fat chonker with tears streaming down his face. "I-I helped you guys out!"

    "Shut up, Kessu brat!" The Alfras barks. "I bet the Terran''s troops can''t wait to wrap their claws around you! Serves you right for betraying your species! Now get out of my way!"

    The Alfras kicks the Kessu, Skippy, sending the fat cat tumbling backward. Then, he climbs into the ship and closes its hatch.

    "Grawf! You, pilot! Get us out of here! Quick, before the Terran''s troops catch us!"

    The pilot hesitates.

    "S-sir! After the Bloodbearer reappeared, it launched another seven hundred interceptors! If we go out there now, those fighters will blast us to bits!"

    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    "We can''t stay here!" Benjiro barks. "Fly us to another ship in the fleet, then. Something heavily armored."

    "We''ll have to travel more than two kilometers through the ''hot zone'' to reach the nearest Destroyer, sir," The pilot says. "I''m waiting for launch permission. Once our ships clear a path, we can leave!"

    The Alfras snarls angrily. However, realizing that fleeing into a hot zone will only result in his immediate death, he bites his tongue.

    "...The instant you receive clearance, get us out of here! Grawf!"

    "Yes, Great Alfras!"

    Benjiro settles back in his chair. He shoots a glance at the other Mallali leaders, all of whom appear just as unnerved as him.

    "The Terran..." Leevoo mutters. "We should not have made him our enemy. I was a fool to follow you. Mlerp."

    "Stupid scale-face." Benjiro growls. "Do not try to blame me. It was your greed for credits that made us chase after him. You are just as at fault as me."

    "I did not think critically..." Leevoo says, lowering her head. "You are right. I should have taken more precautions-"

    Suddenly, an alarm blares inside the transport ship''s internal compartments. Red lights begin to flash, turning all of the Mallali leaders jumpy.

    "What''s going on?" Benjiro barks. "Report!"

    The pilot stiffens. "S-sir! The Terran''s troops have broken through Deck Thirteen! They''re here!"

    Benjiro glances to his left, through the ship''s side-window. There, he witnesses the hangar door collapsing as heavily armored Kraktol and Kessu commandos come barreling in, slaughtering all of the Dakkit in sight.

    "Damn, damn, damn!" Benjiro yelps. "Get us out of here! Just go! We''ll die if those Rodaks catch us!"

    "Yes, sir!" The pilot says, clearly not enthused about facing down ten feet of meaty, muscled Kraktol.

    He hammers several buttons, causing the ship''s engines to ignite. Just as the transport starts to move, it shudders and stops.

    "What''s going on?" Benjiro asks. "This is no time for delays!"

    "Sir... the controls aren''t responding!" The pilot says, his tone panicky. "I''m trying to reboot, but... none of the ship''s systems are functional!"

    At that moment, a robotic female voice speaks inside the ship''s compartment.

    "Your escape attempt will not succeed. I am the Bloodbearer''s synthmind, Umi. I have seized control of your vessel in the name of the United Terran Coalition. Any attempts to resist will result in death. Await your judgment at the hands of my Admiral, the last Terran."

    The side-door leading into the transport tears off its hinges, and a giant grey crocodile head pokes inside.

    "Heh heh heh. Well, now! If it isn''t the Alfras himself! You''re not going anywhere, pup."

    .......................................

    The Mallali mount a strong secondary counter-attack against the Terran. However, the moment Admiral Rodriguez''s troops seize control of the White Death, the battle momentum drastically shifts out of the Dakkit''s favor. With two capital-class ships firing upon the Mallali, they quickly begin to suffer unimaginable losses. Dozens of ships jump to warp, escaping the system without a second thought, while the rest end up blasted to scrap, their crews scattering into the blackness of space, never again to walk the mortal coil.

    Aboard the Bloodbearer, countless cheers erupt as the Slipstream, now sporting a heavily-armored yet still ultra-stealthy brick design, lands inside the hangar. Its exit hatch opens up, and Grundle struts outside, with Ruuki on his shoulder. Immediately behind him come more than three-dozen shackled prisoners, all of them the former leaders of the Mallali Empire, and even the White Death''s Admiral.

    At the very back, one tiny figure hangs his head fearfully, too scared to look anyone else in their eyes.

    Skippy, the Great Betrayer.

    The moment Skippy appears, countless jeers, insults, and taunts fire his way. With the Bloodbearer now sporting more than three thousand Kessu, most of these vat-cloned kitty-cats don''t know Skippy personally, but all have heard of his treachery which nearly led to the downfall of their species.

    "Lick my fur, you kitten-murderer!"

    "Just you wait ''til the Admiral''s done with you! Mraww! We''re gonna teach you a lesson you''ll never forget!"

    "There won''t be enough of you left to make a mop!"

    Grundle leads the prisoners down and through the Bloodbearer''s many hallways, across its entire length, and finally, to the Bridge in its front.

    Eventually, Grundle stops before his Admiral and drops to one knee, bowing his head respectfully.

    "Graugh! Master! I have brought the Great Betrayer, as well as the accursed Mallali!"

    Jos�� Rodriguez, Admiral of the Bloodbearer, and the last Terran in the entire Milky Way, sits in his command chair, gazing at the prisoners with contempt. His facial hair appears thick and unkempt, giving him a wild, savage look. His skin, while tinged slightly green, appears a bit healthier and more human-like compared to when he first revived some ''ten days'' before.

    "Rise." Jos�� says, his tone terse. "You''ve done well, Grundle. I''m proud of you."

    "I could not have come as far as I have without you, my master," Grundle says, as he climbs to his feet. Thanks to his bodily enhancements, he now towers a full head and a half over his Admiral, yet always maintains an air of deference in the Terran''s presence.

    Grundle walks over and forces the Alfras to his knees, along with all the other Mallali, Avaru, and Rodaks. He stands behind them, intimidating them with his presence.

    Benjiro, once the mightiest Sentient in the Milky Way, shivers when the Terran''s gaze falls upon him.

    "What... what will you do with us?" Benjiro asks.

    The Terran remains silent for a moment. He closes his eyes, thinking carefully about his response.

    "You... took something from me."

    Benjiro blinks. "Took what?"

    The Terran opens his eyes.

    "My happiness. I finally felt it again, if only for a while. You took away the one thing I cherished, all to satiate your greed."

    He gazes at the captured Mallali with a half-pitying gaze.

    "I can never regain that which I''ve lost. I cannot bring back those who have disappeared. I cannot undo the past, as not even the Creator himself could accomplish such a feat. But even so... I''m not happy to simply let that pain go. I won''t feel a drop of satisfaction unless I can make you suffer in the same way."

    The Terran lightly drums his fingers on his chair''s arm.

    "It would be so easy. I could foist one of a million different torture devices upon you. I could place false memories into your brain. I could place you in a simulation where you would watch as your friends and family perished at my hands, over and over again. You wouldn''t even be able to tell it was fake."

    He sighs.

    "But I would know. I would know that in the end, your loved ones got to keep on living, while mine didn''t. That just wouldn''t do."

    The Admiral glances at Grundle and nods. Grundle cocks his head slightly, then turns and leaves.

    A minute later, Grundle returns with a levitating pod hovering behind him, inside of which, an injured Dakkit male lays, with numerous nutrient tubes feeding into his body.

    "Maximillian!" Benjiro cries. "Wait, please, Precursor! My son is innocent! He is just a pup! He only followed my orders, but I am the one who made him do those awful things!"

    Jos�� smiles, his expression seeming somewhat half-hearted.

    "You know what''s funny, Benjiro? I believe you. I believe that your son only did awful things because you ordered him to do them. Just like your troops..."

    The Terran leans back in his chair.

    "But it doesn''t matter. Even if your son had no blood on his paws, he wouldn''t escape punishment. Do you know who else was innocent? Who else didn''t deserve such a gruesome fate?"

    Admiral Rodriguez strokes his beard.

    "My Kessu friends. My Kraktol comrades. My brothers and sisters. My children and family. You killed them all when they had done nothing to deserve such a fate. Ordinarily, I could never do unto you such a horrible fate as what you''ve done unto me, not without becoming a heretical monster... but recently, I''ve..."

    The Terran pauses. He cocks his head in an eerily alien manner.

    "...adapted my thinking. I''ve realized the boundaries between heresy and righteousness really don''t matter that much. All those silly lies I once believed never amounted to anything. In the end, monsters win, but angels fall. So perhaps that''s what this galaxy needs. A monster like you. A monster like me."

    Jos�� taps a button on his chair. He calls up a holographic viewscreen in the room, one which broadcasts an image of Enchillon, in all its murky, smoggy glory.

    "You know, this world once held a lot of sentimental value to me..." Jos�� muses. "My brother-in-arms grew up here. My best friend. A man I loved more than myself. He''s dead now. So are all the others. And frankly... I just can''t tolerate seeing you slowly ruin the planet he once called home. So... I think I''ll accelerate its fall."

    Benjiro''s eyes grow wider the more the Terran speaks.

    "Grawf... no... please, you can''t! Those are innocent civilians! They have no quarrel with you!"

    "Oh, please," Jos�� huffs. "Don''t act as if you care. You starved them and choked their lungs with pollution. You never once gave a damn about the poor begging you for help. The only value this world holds in your eyes are its industrial exports and riches."

    The Terran shakes his head.

    "As for the claim that its people are innocent... well, so were the Kessu, and that didn''t stop you. Just consider this me repaying the favor."

    The Admiral presses a button on his chair.

    "Glass it."

    A voice speaks back to him.

    "Yes, Admiral!"

    Moments later, a brilliant light ignites on one of Enchillon''s continents, followed by another, and another, and tens more.

    All across Enchillon''s surface, nuclear eruptions detonate, blasting apart the citizenry at the atomic level. Billions perish within minutes, none of them getting more than a few breaths to contemplate their imminent demises.

    "NOOOO!" Benjiro howls. "You... you monster! How could you do this?! Those were my people! There were Kraktol and Kessu there! Surely, you wouldn''t kill the sentients you love so much?!"

    The Admiral nods. "You''re right. I didn''t. Before your fleet showed up, I had my synthmind scan through all the databases on your planet. I located every Kessu and Kraktol on Enchillon, and I brought them aboard the Bloodbearer. The only dead sentients will be those from your lineage. And frankly, if a few strays end up caught in the blast zone?"

    Jos�� shrugs.

    "Oh well. I tried to save them."

    The Alfras stares, dumbfounded and horrified, as blast-waves ripple across his planet''s surface, shattering its ecology, breaking down all of its artificiality, and superheating its atmosphere well beyond any sentient creature''s tolerable levels.

    "How... how could you do this?" Benjiro asks. "Don''t you have any conscience? The Kessu were combatants. They were... blocking my access to strategic resources! What you''ve done is an act of GENOCIDE!"

    Jos�� snorts. "Genocide. Yes, you''re right. I just find it laughable you would call me out for such a thing, after what the Dakkit did to the Algaru. Ah, look at that shock on your face. Yes, I accessed your secret records. I know the truth about your history."

    The Admiral stands up. He strides toward the Alfras, but instead of stopping before his hated enemy, he walks into the backline, where a single Kessu sits on his knees.

    "Skippy." Jos�� says, his tone empty and lifeless. "I wasn''t sure what to do with you at first. Oh, I had plenty of ideas, but frankly, nothing struck my fancy quite as much as handing you off to the Kessu. I''ve spoken to Ruuki. He lost his daughter, Lele, because of you. I don''t think he will allow your death to be quick and painless. Something tells me he''ll let you bleed for a few years. He''ll make sure to drag out your pain."

    A small puddle appears between the fat cat''s legs.

    "P-please... I just... I didn''t wanna die to the Dakkit... aaooo..."

    "You chose poorly," Jos�� says. "Now, live with your decision. Die with your decision. Ruuki, take this lard-ball away. I don''t ever want to see him again."

    Ruuki looms over the kneeling Kessu, his eyes hard as steel.

    "Mraww. Don''t worry, Admiral. You won''t."

    The adult drags his blubbering, obese companion out of the room, while Jos�� strides over to his chair and takes a seat.

    The Admiral gazes at the viewscreen, watching as Enchillon''s former glory fades into the annals of history.

    "Billions dead at the push of a button." Jos�� mutters.

    The Admiral strokes his mossy green skin, sighing with resignation.

    "Perhaps I am no longer... fully... human."

 Chapter 89: ...The Destroyer of Worlds

    </a>

    The citizens of the Milky Way blissfully go about their lives, unaware of the calamity soon to befall them. They purchase goods, gossip about various mundanities, and otherwise pay little attention to the state of the external galaxy. Some news organizations offer a few minor reports regarding the ''unexpected outage'' Enchillon appears to have suffered, as people lose contact with it on the Galactic Net.

    But otherwise, the modern Sentients haven''t a clue that a terrifying monster, The Precursor, has begun his assault.

    Forty-seven lightyears from Enchillon, in the Rhalnova system, the world of Rhalnova II engages in a huge planetary festival, celebrating some famous official''s return from a military conquest campaign. Having participated in a subjugation of a ''wild world'' in the Northern Sector of the galaxy, his return has granted the people of Rhalnova II access to a previously untapped supply of dilithium crystals. Their days of prosperity are soon to arrive.

    Or so they think.

    A single ship warps into the system. Its immense size dwarfs all but the biggest capitol-class ships in the sector, of which, there aren''t many. A powerful military presence, comprised of 28th to 40th-Era warships, orbits Rhalnova II''s equator. Some of them transmit standard alerts regarding the appearance of a previously unmentioned capitol ship, but when it flies near to the planet''s glowing red giant, they mark it as having no obvious hostile intent.

    At least, not until ten minutes later, when a message transmits over the Planetary Network, a subsidiary of the Galactic Net itself.

    A face appears on every device capable of connecting to the net. Anyone who happens to look down at their transmitters becomes momentarily confused, as the speaker''s species appears foreign, somewhat alien. Lacking fur on large patches of his face, the casual viewer can only wonder whether he is a furless Mallali growing hair in random places, or a furred Mallali who has chosen to shave specific patches of his face.

    Then, the alien speaks.

    "What I am about to do brings me no joy. I am sorry for the pain you will soon experience. You are not at fault. You did not deserve to suffer this fate. But then again... neither did I, nor my crew. The commoners must suffer because of the actions of their kings. That is the way things are. That is the way they will always be."

    After speaking just those few short sentences, his face disappears.

    Alarms ring across countless ships in the sector. The military presence in the system triangulates the intrusive signal, only to find that the ship which sent it has jumped to warp.

    That is the least of their worries, because, moments later, Rhalnova''s red giant ''shudders.''

    Then, it goes supernova.

    The star explodes with a terrific, soundless bang.

    A light brighter than the galaxy''s center ignites and spreads outward, giving the people of Rhalnova II only twelve short minutes to escape.

    Unfathomably violent waves of radiation rush outward at the speed of light, sweeping away world after world, devouring them down to their last molecules.

    Most of the ships already in space take off, ditching anyone unfortunate enough to have taken leave on the planets below. Other vessels, landed on planets or otherwise stuck within various atmospheres and gravity wells, cannot break free and jump to warp in time to escape their fates.

    Tens of billions of sentient lives vanish into the ether, their people releasing one last collective wail of confusion, pain, and betrayal.

    The Terran has struck for the second time, but far from the last.

    As the Rhalnova system vanishes into the pages of history, its people meet an even more decisive end than those living in the Enchillon system. No amount of time will bring back a single atom belonging to their worlds. The few scattered survivors will only ever be capable of living as nomads or refugees, never again to call home and speak to their families.

    Twenty minutes later, that same ship, that harbinger of doom, appears inside a different star system. It repeats the same message as before.

    "What I am about to do brings me no joy. I am sorry for the pain you will soon experience. You are not at fault. You did not deserve to suffer this fate. But then again... neither did I, nor my crew..."

    A pitch-black beam fires from its forward nacelle toward another populated world. It collapses the planet''s gravity in on itself, creating a localized singularity with a hundred times the planet''s original mass.

    All its citizens perish instantly, crushed under the weight of a world shrunken to a hundredth its original size, yet also a hundred times its former gravitic might. Ships too close to the world end up caught in the collapse. Their weak and feeble engines lack the strength to pull them out of the empowered gravity well, and so, they crash into the singularity''s center, their occupants crushed all the same as those who once lived on the planet itself.

    Hardly anyone escapes this world''s fall. Those who feel a mighty outpouring of wrath fail to turn their weapons on the unknown ship before it jumps to warp, fleeing the scene of the crime with great haste.

    Not long after, another world falls.

    And another.

    Each time, the ship utilizes different, equally horrifying methods of wiping out populations, weapons long lost to the modern-era Sentients. None of them could ever fathom the means wielded by the Terran as he obliterates worlds and star-systems, one by one.

    By the time he destroys his fourth world, the galaxy finally rouses itself, jumping to full alert. The Galactic Net receives scattered reports of calamities befalling civilized planets. Famous scientists and engineers work to piece together the events of the past two hours, only to reach a startling conclusion.

    Some unknown assailant from outside the Milky Way has arrived with a fleet of warships. It has begun laying waste to all life it finds. Anyone could be next. The enemy fleets will spring their traps on any world in their path, and so, all Sentients must work together and unify to fight this external threat.

    Various peace treaties hastily hit the desks of many governors, fleet leaders, pirate captains, and executives. They all sign them without hesitation.

    Faced with an unknown threat, many can only begin to question the appearance of the strange, patchy-furred alien, someone vaguely resembling a Mallali sub-species. Recordings appear on the Galactic Net, each one showing the same transmission sent from a single ship.

    The thought that just one ship could unleash this atrocity never crosses anyone''s mind. Instead, many theorize that multiple identical war vessels have acted as scouts, while greater fleets attacked from the shadows.

    After all, how could one ship possibly travel between star systems in a matter of minutes?

    Before the Sentients can answer any questions, a report of a sixth fallen star system reaches their ears. This one, belonging to the Curro, an Avaru sub-species, puts up a feeble fight against the vessel. They manage to send transmissions of a single long, black, rectangular vessel covered in weapons to the other Sentients. This capitol ship, ten kilometers in length, stands out for its simple and functional design. It resembles a long, obsidian brick.

    Finally, people realize the truth. This ship is unique. There are no others like it. Instead, it jumps from system to system at unthinkable speeds, as if flickering in and out of existence. It, alone, is the cause of the galaxy''s woes.

    And so, the citizens of the Milky Way coin a name for it.

    The Annihilator.

    Hastily, various military agencies chart its path of destruction. They calculate that the Annihilator must possess some previously unknown hyperdrive, something capable of instantly jumping between nearby star-systems. They estimate its future attack vectors and hastily assemble sloppy points of resistance in various star systems, praying they can destroy it before it obliterates another civilization.

    Their hopes fail to become reality.

    The Annihilator materializes inside the Dakkit''s home system, one which holds a world known as Daxarus. This planet, the crown jewel of Mallali culture, stands at the apex of modern society. Rated 1.0 on the Terran Habitability Index, its lush oceans, forests, and wildlife grant it a beauty that few other worlds could ever hope to compete with.

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    A surprisingly vast military fleet reveals itself. While lacking some of the more highly-advanced starship-types that fought in Enchillon''s space, the sheer number of assembled forces pose a decent threat to the so-called Annihilator.

    Even so, the ship stubbornly flies toward the planet, while beaming the same message.

    "What I am about to do brings me no joy. I am sorry for the pain you will soon experience. You are not at fault..."

    These words, now analyzed by some of the galaxy''s brightest minds, send shivers down the backs of those who hear them.

    Without fail, every time the Annihilator has transmitted the Terran''s speech, a star system has fallen.

    Now, only the most valiant Sentients in the Daxarus military can offer any resistance to the Terran''s onslaught.

    "Stand firm! Fall upon this monster and CRUSH HIM with your forces of will! Show this murderous maniac that the galaxy will punish him for his crimes! If we must die, then we will do so unbendingly, showing this creature that our resolve cannot be broken!"

    Tens of thousands of ships, weaker individually than those that appeared at Enchillon, yet collectively a similar level of power, surround the Annihilator. Walls of torpedoes, missiles, lasers, and kinetic weaponry crash against the enemy ship. It fires back, blasting hundreds of Mallali starships out of the sky, yet even so, when faced with such all-encompassing numbers, it cannot fight back effectively.

    "We''ve got that bald-faced alien on the ropes!" Roars one Dakkit general. "Now, finish him off!"

    Just as he issues that order, the Annihilator disappears.

    It reappears some distance away, its torn-up hull restored to mint condition. All of the damage it incurred from the previous assault disappears, leaving the Mallali stunned.

    Two more times, they attack and nearly succeed in destroying the monster-ship, but each time, it evades their final push to jump away before jumping back, all of the damage gone.

    A sense of hopelessness swallows the Mallali. Their war-fleet dwindles in size and power as the Annihilator lives up to its nickname, melting them down by the tens and hundreds.

    "Please!" Transmits one of the Dakkit to the attacking ship. "Spare the innocent civilians! Don''t do this! We do not know you! We have not done anything to incur your wrath!"

    The Terran replies with only two words.

    "I know."

    He wipes out the remainder of the fleet, then launches dozens of missiles toward the world of Daxarus.

    Unlike the explosive deaths suffered by the systems before Daxarus, the planet remains standing after the missiles explode. A fine mist disperses into its atmosphere, then fades away, as if it never existed at all.

    Confused, the terrified citizens of Daxarus can only gaze in stone-cold silence at the military feeds now occupying all of their channels as the Annihilator takes its leave. It departs the system, leaving behind a seemingly unharmed globe.

    Many citizens cheer. Others remain silent and uncertain.

    Will the monster return to kill them all? Did those missiles even do anything?

    Of course, a week later, when the Ettavirus begins its spread, they will know the truth. The Terran did not spare them. He cursed them to a long, slow, agonizing death, one which will take years for them to fully process. The world of Daxarus will become just as uninhabitable as all the fallen worlds before them.

    It will become known as the Plaguetouched Planet.

    In the decades following, as every sentient born curses their maker for subjecting them to the ravages of the incurable flesh-eating virus, they will remember better than anyone the horrors just one Terran can unleash.

    They will shout expletives and blasphemies at him. But he will not hear their words.

    Ten more systems fall in short order. The mightiest military forces the galaxy''s inhabitants manage to assemble do little more than slowing down their eventual demise. The luckiest beings escape to the stars. They leave behind their homes with tears in their eyes, watching as the Terran wipes out billions of their friends and family members without a shred of mercy.

    A deep sense of grief seizes the Milky Way.

    No matter who they are, every citizen of every empire becomes worried for their survival. Innumerable innocents lose friends and family living or visiting neighboring systems. Some of them flee to distant worlds, praying they will escape the Terran''s wrath.

    One Dakkit general sobs into his paws, weeping like a beaten puppy as he recalls the horror of watching Enchillon''s destruction. He, along with other Mallali, observed firsthand the Terran''s power.

    He knows the galaxy will not be able to stop the half-furred menace.

    No one will.

    .......................................

    Aboard the Bloodbearer, Jos�� Rodriguez sits silently in his Admiral chair. He watches the Bridge''s primary viewscreen as his ship jumps from Daxarus''s orbit into Inverted Space, leaving the planet to its hellish fate. In his hands, the Admiral holds a small tube of yellow gas. He rolls it around in his palm, occasionally glancing at it, as if debating the many mysteries of the universe.

    Before the Terran, a haggard-looking group of Mallali rest on their knees, including the Alfras himself. Soren sits in a chair beside her Admiral, her expression inscrutable.

    "This virus..." Jos�� mutters. "It''s a special pathogen I engineered myself. It won''t kill the subject quickly. It will slowly eat away at their flesh while tearing apart their nervous system, causing them unthinkable pain and suffering. Umi obtained a sample of its culture when she first awakened me from stasis, all those years ago."

    Admiral Rodriguez glances at his prisoners.

    "Funny, isn''t it? If nobody had awakened me, I would have slept blissfully unaware in stasis until my body decomposed. This virus is as much a byproduct of Loreen''s actions as I am. Even then, she did not act alone. The galaxy now suffers because of your collective greed."

    The Alfras appears decades older. His short hair now appears white and grey, with countless clumps missing, leaving him with naked patches across his body. Dirt and dinge stick to his fur, giving him the appearance of a beggar. The other Mallali, Avaru, and Rodak leaders don''t appear any better.

    "What... do you want from me...?" Benjiro asks, his voice hoarse. "Haven''t you tortured me enough? My boy... what you did to little Maxy..."

    Jos�� rolls the yellow vial around in his palm.

    "I didn''t enjoy it, you know. I don''t enjoy any of this. Frankly, I don''t even know why I''m doing it. I know, intellectually, that taking revenge is a useless act. An eye for an eye will only leave the world blind. I think I hoped it would make me feel better. Perhaps, in my heart of hearts, I just wanted to hurt you more than you''ve hurt me. Maybe if I hurt you enough, the pain in my chest would ease somewhat."

    Jos�� sighs.

    "But... it hasn''t. It''s still there. Fifty years can pass, yet nothing changes. All of my friends are still gone. I can''t bring them back. Even if I were able to do so, I could never undo the suffering they endured. It''s quite the dilemma, don''t you think?"

    Soren lowers her eyes.

    "Jos��."

    "Yes?" The Terran asks.

    "Don''t... don''t you think you''ve done enough?"

    The Admiral shakes his head. He glances at a starmap, one which shows an additional fifty stops in different systems.

    "I don''t think so. There are so... so many more Mallali out there."

    Soren chuffs. "I see. Then do as you will."

    Jos�� glances at his First Officer.

    "Do you want me to stop?"

    She hesitates, taking a moment to formulate her answer.

    "I will follow you, no matter what actions you take, Jos��. But... all this death. This pain. It''s not right."

    Jos�� smiles, but his expression appears hollow and pained.

    "No, it isn''t. None of this is right. It''s immoral. It''s evil. It won''t solve any problems. It will only cause countless innocents to suffer. I don''t enjoy doing it, not even a little bit."

    He leans back in his seat, then tilts his head up to gaze at the ceiling.

    "But why do I do it? I don''t know. I just feel this... this hollow place in my chest. I want to fill it with something, but nothing will plug the gap. There''s no rhyme or reason to any of the actions I''ve taken, or pain I''ve suffered. I might as well be a pawn in some deity''s game. God gazes at me from above... he steps on me and laughs, because he finds my suffering amusing."

    Soren folds her claws together. "I don''t believe in ''God.'' No loving ''God'' would allow these atrocities to happen."

    "He does exist." Jos�� says, his tone firm. "The Creator formed the cosmos. He built our galaxy from the ashes of the cosmos. His power is so vast, yet who is to say he wouldn''t occasionally play a trick on some mere mortal? Perhaps he built all of this... did all of this, just to hurt me. Wouldn''t that be funny? A grand irony?"

    The Admiral continues to stare at the ceiling for several long minutes.

    Eventually, he lolls his head forward to gaze at the Mallali leaders.

    "Mmm. I''ve looked at you long enough. I tire of your presence. Die."

    A moment later, the hearts of all three dozen Mallali leaders rupture inside their chests, causing them to rock violently on their knees and stagger forward. They flop to the floor, lifeless, while the Terran''s cold gaze watches them.

    "Not even that gave me a drop of satisfaction."

    Soren silently stands up and walks over to the fallen bodies. With lethargic, mechanical efficiency, she checks all of their pulses before calling cleanup droids.

    "Do you want me to leave them in your... feeding bay?" Soren asks.

    "No. Dump them out an airlock," Jos�� says. "I couldn''t stomach eating those... bastards."

    Soren nods. "Alright."

    She takes a seat beside her Admiral, falling silent as they wait for the droids to arrive.

    "Soren." Jos�� says. "...We''ll reach Dragua eventually. The Kraktol homeworld. Your homeworld."

    Soren glances at him for a moment, then looks away.

    "I know."

    "Loreen slew many of our friends." Jos�� says. "Of all the worlds I''ve... punished... Dragua holds the most significance."

    "Like I said..." Soren mutters. "Do what you want, Jos��. I won''t abandon you even if the whole galaxy does."

    "I don''t see why not," The Admiral says. "Don''t you care about Dragua? Your friends will suffer and die. Whether I introduce a virus or blow up the star... they will suffer immeasurably."

    She shrugs. "You''re not the only one with a hollow heart, Jos��. I''ve suffered, too. I understand why you do these things. I don''t blame you any more than I blame myself. What do you want me to say? Do you want me to beg you to stop?"

    Soren gestures vaguely at the viewscreen, which only shows the blackness of the void outside.

    "I didn''t stop you when you destroyed Enchillon. I didn''t stop you when you annihilated any of those other worlds or poisoned Daxarus. Why should I give Dragua preferential treatment? There''s no rhyme, reason, or logic to this, anyway. It''s all just... emotions. And I''m no good at dealing with those."

    The squarish cleaning droids slide inside the Bridge, followed by a small group of Kessu. The bipedal cats wince as they spot the dead bodies awaiting them.

    However, among them, one adult female stands out due to her pretty and fluffy white fur. She silently goes about her business, watching over the droids without batting an eye as they grab the fallen bodies, put them onto large trays, and mop up the blood leaking from their mouths.

    Jos�� gazes at the female.

    "...Lulu?"

    She glances at him for a brief moment, nods, then returns to her business, never once saying a word.

    Not since she was a kitten some fifty years before has Lulu spoken. So traumatic was the loss of her entire family that she lost her ability to speak and never regained it.

    After the droids finish cleaning up the fallen Mallali bodies, they and their Kessu maintenance teams trudge after them, with many of the younger ones shooting looks of awe, reverence, and fear at the Terran Admiral.

    Jos�� purses his lips.

    "...Every time I see her, I remember her sister. I remember Lele and why I do this. If I don''t punish the Mallali, the Avaru, and the Rodaks, nobody else will."

    The Admiral closes his eyes.

    "You''re right, Soren. There is no logic to my actions. I can try to rationalize it, but in the end... I''m just acting selfishly. I''ve arbitrarily decided to walk the path of evil. And frankly..."

    "...I no longer see any other path before me."

 Chapter 90: Honoring the Fallen

    Civilizations fall. Worlds crumble. Star systems vanish, never to be seen again.

    The Precursor''s wrath continues unabated. Each day, he wipes out tens of billions of lives across a dozen planets, driving the Milky Way''s inhabitants to despair. The soulless, unfeeling monster wipes away millennia of hatred between all the species. Even the Buzor unite with the Rodaks, the Mallali, and the Avaru to do battle against the Precursor, though their best efforts amount to nothing at all.

    In the orbit of one nameless Mallali world, where a small fleet of resistance fighters bravely fight the Terran against all odds, the Admiral transmits a command to his Kraktol and Kessu crew. In total, they number nearly a hundred thousand, filling the Bloodbearer almost to its peak capacity.

    "Go. Capture the best vessels intact from our enemies. Our ship needs more scrap for its repairs."

    "Yes, Admiral!"

    A storm of mini-frigates deploys from the Bloodbearer''s shuttle bays, their bodies made for ramming into the sides of lesser vessels while taking little damage.

    They crash into the flanks of dozens of Mallali and Rodak ships, deploying battle-hardened warriors to engage in infantry combat.

    Kraktol warriors deploy with Kessu atop their shoulders, wading into battle with terrifying killing prowess. Even the weakest, crappiest, freshest Kraktol and Kessu stand galaxies above the heads of their opponents. No matter whether they face Trellut enemies, Rocharoks, Bulin, or Dakkit, they stomp their foes into lifeless corpses, trashing them with the same ease an adult might take down a group of toddlers.

    As always, the leader of the expedition turns out to be the Bloodbearer''s Second Officer, its Forward Ground Commander, Grundle.

    The legendary Kraktol wades into battle without a shred of fear. He taunts his enemies relentlessly, mocking them and their ancestors for failing to compare to his glorious Admiral. His soldiers never lose morale, and in fact continue to become more fearsome as the battles continue, all thanks to the aura of their glorious leader.

    Within just a few hours, they crush the fleet opposing them and seize control of their ships, leaving none alive to question their deeds.

    Aboard the Bloodbearer, Jos�� Rodriguez stands before a holo-projection of the space situation, with his First Officer standing at his side. They patiently watch as his forces systematically dismantle their enemies, yet neither says a word until the final hostile perishes.

    "They''re unstoppable now." Jos�� murmurs. "You''ve taught them well, Soren."

    His First Officer nods absentmindedly. "Yes. Considering the Bloodbearer will soon reach its maximum crew capacity, don''t you think we should take a few of these ships intact? The Kessu and Kraktol could use more living space."

    "Mmm. You''re right, but that''s the downside of Inverted Space drives." Jos�� answers. "Ships traveling inside Folded and Inverted Space lose contact with the rest of the galaxy. You also can''t move two ships within the same Folded Space, not unless one of them is significantly smaller than the other. If we move some of our crew to another ship, they won''t be a part of our voyage any longer. Building an Inverted Drive into one of these other ships would take years."

    Soren shrugs. "Oh well."

    After a few moments of silence, Jos�� glances at her.

    "Something bothering you?"

    She shrugs again. "The same as always."

    "You don''t like my mission," Jos�� guesses. "You think it''s too bloody. Too violent. Unnecessary."

    She nods slowly. "Destroying Enchillon, more than a hundred years ago... it was a shocking move. It stunned me at the time, but I came around to thinking it might have been necessary. But now, after all these other worlds... I just..."

    She sighs deeply.

    "Jos��. Don''t you think you''ve done enough? You''ve killed so many innocents. When will it end? You''ve avenged our fallen friends a million times over. I even have trouble remembering their faces sometimes. I can only remember a few Kessu and a few Kraktol. There are generations of Kessu here who never knew the fallen. They whisper about you all the time, often with shifty looks in their eyes."

    The Admiral''s expression remains neutral.

    "They fear me. They think me a monster."

    "Yes..." Soren whispers. She continues to avert her gaze. "I know you''ve suffered, but... isn''t it time to move on? You have new friends now. You can... make a new beginning."

    "I don''t want a ''new beginning.''" Jos�� says. "I''ve had those now. Twice. I''m sick of ''new beginnings,'' because for some goddamned reason, my friends always fucking DIE!"

    The Admiral jumps out of his chair and roars at the ceiling.

    "I HATE IT! I hate this HELPLESSNESS! THIS EMPTINESS! I always screw EVERYTHING up! I always fail EVERYONE! I''m fucking USELESS! AHHHH!"

    The Admiral explodes with anger, momentarily startling Soren. She takes a few steps back, and gasps, which causes the Admiral to reorient himself back to reality. He pauses and shakes his head, blinking back the rage. After a few seconds, he quickly pushes his emotions back down.

    The Terran shudders, then turns to look at his frightened First Officer. "Sorry, Soren. Sorry. I... I didn''t mean..."

    "It''s okay," Soren says, shivering. "You... you always hide your anger and sadness. You don''t have to, Jos��. I''m here for you. You can talk to me."

    The Admiral''s gaze darkens. He looks away.

    "Thank you, but it''s better if I don''t. Sometimes, when my anger reaches a certain point... I feel these strange sensations in the back of my mind, as if something wants to take over. I feel that if I give voice to my thoughts, I might do something... unforgivable."

    Soren frowns. "Unforgivable? Like killing trillions of Sentients?"

    Jos�� shakes his head.

    "No. Something worse. I might lose control. I might hurt the ones I care about most. The few who still remain."

    He vaguely gestures in her direction.

    "I''m talking about you, Soren. I hold back because I''m afraid I''ll lash out and hurt you. I no longer fully understand what evil I''ve become capable of unleashing."

    The Admiral glances back at the holograms of the now-subdued enemy fleet.

    "These creatures mean nothing to me. They''re numbers on a screen. Dots of color. Blobs of meat. I hoped at first that killing them would ease my anger or cool the pain in my heart, but now I understand they mean nothing to me at all. I won''t find happiness or redemption in killing them. I won''t find anything at all."

    Soren''s arms hang loose at her sides.

    "Then why do you continue, Jos��? Why do you persist in these evil actions?"

    The Terran snorts. "I do this because I don''t know what else to do. If I do nothing, then I''ll have nothing. Yet if I continue as I have, I''ll have at least... a goal. A sense of... of..."

    He trails off, finally at a loss for words.

    A full minute passes. The Admiral and his First Officer stand awkwardly, with Soren glancing at him out of the corner of her eyes, while he stares off into space, lost and confused.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    Eventually, Jos�� shakes his head.

    "Let''s end this. Once Grundle and his forces finish their tasks, set a course for Dragua."

    Soren flinches. "...Dragua. You''re going to kill them too, then?"

    "It''s my last shot." Jos�� mumbles. "My last chance to feel something. If wiping out the villainous Kraktol who escaped on that day doesn''t do anything, then nothing will."

    Jos�� turns to look at Soren. Darkness lingers in his eyes.

    "You may have forgotten the faces of our friends, Soren, but I haven''t. I remember every Kessu''s hair follicle and every Kraktol''s scale. I remember all of their names. I even remember the contents of all our conversations. My cerebral augments ensure I will always keep a perfect record of my past stored for safekeeping, ready to torment me for all eternity. That''s one reason I''ve kept up this campaign for so long. I''ll never forget those I''ve lost."

    The Admiral spins on his heel and storms away, leaving Soren all by herself. She stands in place, staring at the holograms with an empty gaze.

    "He won''t stop..." She whispers. "I can''t ease his pain. I can''t do anything at all."

    Her shoulders slump.

    "What kind of ''good friend'' can''t do a single thing to help? I''m... useless."

    .......................................

    Grundle and his expeditionary force finish their work. They rapidly strip apart the best metal from their captured vessels, then self destruct them, launching them into the planet''s atmosphere. After carpet-bombing the world back to the stone age, all of his forces return to the Bloodbearer, awaiting their jump to Inverted Space.

    "Great work, maggots!" Grundle says, clapping several of the youngest, freshest Kraktol on the back. "Graugh! You soft-scales aren''t half bad! You''re at least twice as strong as I was during my first invasion! Oh, you little tykes grow up so fast! Now, come with me, and let''s complete your initiation!"

    The Kraktol pound their chests and nod, following after Grundle. After he departs the Slipstream, his personal warship, Grundle pauses at the bottom of the exit ramp to look around. Eventually, he spots an elderly Kessu male nearby, someone leaning heavily on a staff.

    "Graugh! Ruuki, there you are!" Grundle says, as he walks over to his old friend. His smile momentarily falters when he observed the aged body of the Kessu, but he forces it back while lightly stroking his former battle-buddy''s fur. "We had a great haul this time! I brought some fun trinkets back for your little girl!"

    The tiger-striped Kessu wobbles heavily on his feet. He leans against a crate while smiling at Grundle.

    "Ahh... yes. Thank you, Grun-Grun. I''m sure Lulu will love it. She won''t know what to say, but then again... she never does."

    Grundle coughs awkwardly, but continues to maintain his smile.

    "Yes! Graugh! I''m taking the boys here to visit the old scrapper and his missus! What say you join us?"

    Ruuki nods slowly.

    "Oh... oh, yes. I suppose that would be a bit of fun. I don''t get around much these days, but I''d like to see my grandpa again."

    "Good, good. Want me to carry you?" Grundle asks. "I could get you a hover-chair!"

    Ruuki shakes his head.

    "Maybe it''s just my pride, but I won''t stoop that low, yet. These bones still have a bit of strength left in them. Let''s walk and talk. You''re always so busy, we rarely get to chit-chat... not like the old days."

    A hint of guilt crosses Grundle''s face. His smile fades visibly, devolving into a barely visible crook at the edges of his mouth.

    "Ah... yeah. Sorry. Graugh! I''m always training the young-bloods, but... I should set aside more time. I know most of the others our age aren''t around anymore. You probably don''t have anyone to talk to..."

    "I have my children," Ruuki says, smiling faintly. "They might be adopted, or clones, or whatever... but they are my family, all the same. They treat their old ''pops'' well. They always ask to hear stories from before the... the... that day."

    "Oh, good. That''s good..." Grundle mumbles.

    He and Ruuki slowly proceed out of the shuttle bay, followed by Grundle''s youngest Kraktol warrior initiates. These youngbloods keep pace at a distance, watching the largest member of their species bend down to the level of his tiny, aged friend.

    "Graugh. Who is that Kessu?" One of the youngbloods asks. "He''s so... old."

    Another one sighs. "That''s the now-retired Commander Ruuki. He''s one of the last few survivors of the, err... the Day of Betrayal. Him and Big Boss used to fight together on the frontlines."

    "Wow, that''s awesome. But wait, doesn''t that mean our boss is like, crazy old, too? Why''s he in so much better shape compared to Ruuki?"

    The other one shrugs. "I hear the Commander had all sorts of work done on his body. He''ll live for thousands of years, just like the former Th��lvik. Problem is, Ruuki was too old for those treatments to work well. He only extended his life by a century or so. Plus... I hear he didn''t want to bother with the other life-extension treatments. Not sure why, but someone said he suffers from depression. He''s a bit of a mess..."

    "Damn. That''s rough."

    "Yeah, you said it. That''s why you gotta listen when the boss tells you stuff. He knows what he''s talking about. I heard he fought the previous Th��lvik and beat her ass until she begged for mercy. He''s a mean bastard sometimes, but he''s also better than all of us. Him and Ruuki both deserve serious respect."

    "Graugh! I''ll keep that in mind."

    These two Kraktol, as well as the rest, follow Grundle and Ruuki as they slowly make their way across the ship. Eventually, more than three hours later, they arrive at a room located in the heart of the Bloodbearer, smack in the middle.

    The Stasis Preservation Chamber.

    When the doors open up, most of the youngbloods crow in amazement.

    "Graugh! Look at all these pods! What''s in them?"

    "Kraktol and Kessu, if you can believe it," Says the studious youngblood from before. "I heard the Admiral himself woke up in here two hundred years ago. There used to be tons of other Terrans here, but he gave them all a burial among the stars."

    Grundle glances over his shoulder.

    "You lot, be quiet! This is a solemn place, graugh! This is the Hall of Ancestors. We come here to pay our respects, not to yap our mouths!"

    Grundle leads his youngbloods over to one of the many pods while Ruuki takes a seat off to the side, resting his tired knees.

    After stopping before two of the stasis pods, Grundle falls silent. He rests one claw on the right pod, and the other on the left.

    "Graugh. These two are Ruuki''s grandparents. Baaru and Nyoor. They were the oldest living Kessu, aside from Science Officer Lorrie. They were my good friends."

    Grundle kneels on the ground before the stasis pods. He sits on his knees, while the other Kraktol behind him take up identical positions. When Grundle bows his head, they mimic his movements, feeling a solemnness to his actions.

    "Hello, old friends..." Grundle says, his words slow and ponderous. "It has been a while since I brought you some youngbloods."

    He pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts.

    "...If you could see them, I''m sure you''d be proud. They have worked hard and trained every day. They are the protectors of your great-great-grandkittens. I also brought Ruuki, today. He''s still pretty spry, all things considered."

    "I miss you guys. It''s only been fifty years since we last talked... but it feels like fifty thousand. Time flies when you''re having fun, or so the Admiral says. I''m certainly having a lot of fun kicking Mallali fur! But still... I''d have more fun if you were still here."

    Grundle''s voice catches, as a hint of emotion chokes his throat.

    "Cough. I, err. I talked to the Admiral. He said there might still be hope for reversing your age. It might take time, though. So just be patient. If Umi succeeds in mapping the Kessu genome, we might get to talk pretty soon! Wouldn''t that be great!"

    The giant crocodile sighs heavily.

    "It''s too bad, though. Even if we bring you back... we''ll never bring back your kittens, or your grandkittens. I''m sorry. It''s... it''s my fault, I know. If only I had just been there on that day... but I wasn''t. I still blame myself."

    The Kraktol behind Grundle listen silently, with varying looks of empathy on their faces. Never have they seen their brave and fearless commander so heartbroken and despondent.

    Eventually, Grundle clears his throat.

    "Erm. Graugh! But never mind all that. Please give your blessing to these youngbloods. I''m sure they will make you proud! They will protect your families with their lives. We aren''t the same Kraktol who once attacked the Kessu, all those centuries ago. We are best friends, and we will fight and die together, no matter who stands against us."

    Grundle rises to his feet, along with the other Kraktol. He bows before the stasis pods, as do his fresh youngbloods. Not long after, they file out of the Hall of Ancestors, leaving behind the stasis pods and all those painful memories.

    After they leave, Grundle sends away his young warriors. He and Ruuki wander over to the cafeteria, where they sit down to munch on a light snack. Grundle materializes himself a hearty meal of nearly thirty pounds worth of meat, while Ruuki opts for a bowl of applesauce, something his tired old gums can easily chew.

    "Ohhh... that was nice..." Ruuki says, his aged eyes blinking slowly. "It''s been a while since I saw grandpa and grandma. Won''t be long now..."

    Grundle pauses his snacking to look at Ruuki.

    "Long before... what?"

    Ruuki shrugs. "Before I join them, of course."

    "Don''t say things like that." Grundle mutters. "You''ve got a good decade or two left in you. I''m sure the synthmind will map that pesky genome before you know it!"

    The old cat slowly shakes his head.

    "No. No... I very much doubt that, Grun-Grun. Even if it did... I''m not so sure I''d want to go on for much longer."

    He pushes around some food on his plate absentmindedly.

    "It''s been hard for me to persevere all these years, Grun-Grun. I held out for Lulu''s sake. I didn''t want to make her sad. But now... I think it''s about time for me to move on. My life has felt so... so hollow... without Lele. Without my kittens. I lost my first wife, and then my second. I lost my whole family. If I didn''t still have Lulu, I''d have probably just..."

    He trails off, leaving the implication hanging.

    Grundle nods slowly.

    "It has been hard on you, Ruuki. I wish I could do something to help."

    "It''s not your fault. It''s not your responsibility," Ruuki states simply. "There''s nobody who can help me. In the end, I long for sleep. I hope to see my family again in the next life. Maybe we can meet again, under the Koogali Tree..."

    Grundle slides a fish into his mouth. He swallows it whole, then forces a smile.

    "I''ll stay with you until the end, bestest buddy."

    The two men fall silent and continue eating their food.

    Years later, when the Bloodbearer arrives at its final stop, Grundle will look at the direction of the Ancestor Hall and sigh.

    He kept his promise to Ruuki and stayed with him until the very end.

    Finally, the old fellow could finally go to rest beside the rest of his family... and remain with them in the afterlife.

    "Old friend..." Grundle whispers. "I''ll... miss you."

 Chapter 91: The Galaxys Final Stand

    The Bloodbearer, a ship which once belonged to a military serving under the United Terran Coalition, enters normal space inside the Dragua sector. Its crew and soldiers stand at the ready, some of them aboard shuttles and interceptors, others in the repair bays awaiting the eventual return of damaged ships should they meet enemy resistance.

    The Kraktol on the Bloodbearer, with only a handful of exceptions, are all vat-cloned warriors bred primarily for the purpose of fighting on their Admiral''s behalf. Raised from birth to follow his, Soren, and Grundle''s orders, they hold no allegiance to the old Kraktol Empire. Many of these warriors pace back and forth aboard their shuttles, feeling antsy and hyping themselves up for battle.

    "The old Kraktol order nearly wiped out the Kessu. The Kessu are our friends! Nobody hurts our friends!"

    "I say we should make Commander Grundle the new Th��lvik! The old one was nothing more than a murderous softscale!"

    "Graugh! Let us capture plenty of females for Grundle! We will teach them to respect our Commander''s masculinity! They will fawn at his feet and our Admiral''s, alike!"

    Cheers of excitement go up around the Bloodbearer''s halls. Nearly every Kraktol stands aboard their designated ships, while only a portion of the Bloodbearer''s Kessu crew join them, and those who do are among the best battle-buddies any Kraktol could ask for.

    When the Bloodbearer reaches their destination, Umi issues a warning across the entire ship.

    "Attention. All crew prepare for battle. Our enemies have assembled a formidable war force exceeding our greatest estimates. According to my calculations, this will be our final battle. No other major resistance force remains in the Milky Way."

    Her words stir the hearts of the Kraktol, making them cheer with excitement. After so many disappointingly easy battles, they cannot wait to engage in genuine, blood-pumping combat.

    Aboard the Bloodbearer''s Bridge, Jos�� Rodriguez sits in his command chair, while Soren sits beside him on the right. She deftly pulls up several screens showing a truly terrifying fleet of ships assembled before Dragua.

    "Seventeen capital-class ships. Ninety-five cruisers. Three hundred and fourteen destroyers. One thousand, nine hundred and four frigates."

    The Admiral nods. "This isn''t like before. The Mallali must have realized we would come to Dragua eventually. They likely assembled here a few days ago in anticipation of our arrival. That explains why so many systems we conquered had little to no military presence."

    "A few days ago?" Soren asks, before immediately answering her own question. "Oh, right. Sometimes I forget just how little realspace time has passed."

    "To the inhabitants of the Milky Way, our campaign has occurred at breakneck speed. More than sixty fallen systems in just three weeks. For us... two hundred and fifty years."

    Jos�� quiets down. He glances at the display, slightly marveling at the many ships present.

    "That one, it''s the Black Death. It escaped from Enchillon. Most likely, its commanders rallied the other systems to their aid."

    "Admiral," Umi beeps. "You have an incoming hail request."

    The Terran purses his lips.

    "I''ve seen war fleets far more terrifying than this during the 50th Era. Still, this is quite an impressive assembly for the citizens of the modern era. Our Bloodbearer, as-is, stands outgunned... we might need to make two... no, three jumps if we expect to win."

    Soren nod slowly. "So... another thirty years? Forty?"

    "Maybe even fifty..." Jos�� mutters. "But after this, based on our intel, there won''t be anyone capable of stopping us ever again. We''ll have conquered the whole galaxy."

    He gestures vaguely in the air.

    "Onscreen, Umi."

    A moment later, the screen changes, revealing a somewhat short Kraktol, someone who Jos�� immediately recognizes.

    "Ah. Kilgore, that half-Algaru fellow."

    Despite his small stature, Kilgore stands proudly, his expression betraying no fear or worry. He eyes the Terran for a few seconds before speaking.

    "Hurgh. Admiral Rodriguez. So... you have come. I hoped you would not. My people hate you... and therefore, I must as well. Still, I hold a great deal of respect for your battle prowess. It saddens me to see that you have shown up with your weapons active."

    "I respect you, too." Jos�� says. "However, I have a mission. Anyone who stands in my way is my enemy."

    Kilgore hesitates. He shifts his weight from one foot to another.

    "You... I just want to know... why you would commit such horrible acts. The amount of evil you''ve unleashed... you once spoke to me about the concept of ''heresy.'' To witness the unimaginable pain you have wrought upon this galaxy, it does not match up with the Admiral Rodriguez I met just two short months ago."

    "People change." Jos�� says. "Sometimes willingly. Sometimes unwillingly. As for why I''ve done what I''ve done... the reason-"

    Before Jos�� can speak, a red-and-black scaled giant steps into the frame, brusquely shoving Kilgore aside. A female Kraktol shakes her fist at the screen, as rage burns in her eyes.

    "Kyargh! You shut your MOUTH! I won''t sit and listen while you spew your poison any longer! How much more will you take from me?! How many more must die before you sate your bloodlust?! My father! My mother! The entire galaxy! You are far worse than the monster they claimed you to be!"

    "Kisa." Jos�� says, keeping his expression neutral. "I would apologize for all the pain I''ve laid upon your shoulders, but I doubt you''d believe my words. I never intended for any of this to happen."

    "LIAR!" Kisa screams. Her nostrils flare as she glares daggers through the screen. "How dare you lie right to my face! You were never my friend! From the very beginning, you plotted against me! You tried to make me question my own mother and father! You even ate fruit with me, all to weaken my resolve! But no more. I will not swim in your swamp any longer!"

    She gestures grandly, sweeping her arms out wide while cackling. "Hahaha!! Look at this mighty fleet I have assembled! I will not let you escape! I will rip you apart before you can flee! I will make you pay for murdering my parents in warm blood!"

    Jos�� narrows his eyes. "Tsk. Kisa, do you and Kilgore not know what happened? Your mother came to the Bloodbearer with an army. She murdered everyone here except for me and a few others. She killed nearly all of the Kessu and Kraktol! She slaughtered my crew!"

    Kisa momentarily falters.

    "What? She did?"

    After a momentary pause, Kisa shakes her head.

    "NO! Again, you lie! Always, you lie! My mother left to help the Mallali fight the Buzor! She had no reason to attack you. Do you think me a fool? KYARGH! My mother feared fighting you from the very beginning. She even told my father to acquiesce to your demands, which allowed you to turn my sister against him thanks to your silver-tongue!"

    "I''m not lying." Jos�� states. "Your mother lied to you. She lied about fighting the Buzor. I can send you videos, if you''d like. It''s all recorded."

    "I DON''T BELIEVE YOU!" Kisa roars. "I refuse to watch your doctored evidence! When my army destroys your ship, I will bring you to your knees! I will rip you to pieces! Not just you, but Sapphire too! I''ll torture that filthy softscale for what she did to my father!"

    Jos��''s eyes flicker with emotion. For a brief moment, his hardened gaze changes, causing him to look at Kisa with pity.

    "...Sapphire is dead, Kisa."

    The newly crowned Th��lvik finally fully pauses, recoiling in surprise at the Terran''s words.

    "What? She is?"

    "Yes." The Admiral says. "Your mother killed her."

    Kisa''s expression changes again, shifting to a look of elation.

    "Oh? Is that the case? Hahaha! GOOD! Screw Sapphire! Screw her and her evil, father-murdering ways! I always hated that... that mean-spirited bitch! She used to laugh at me, mock me until I cried! I just wish I''d been there to see my mother land the final blow!"

    Kisa completely ignores the contradictory evidence that her mother could not have killed Sapphire without coming aboard the Bloodbearer, thus proving Jos��''s previous statement to be true. In her eyes, the Terran can only continue to lie, furthering her resolve. Every statement he makes only further confirms her bias, hardening her heart.

    Any trace of sympathy vanishes from Jos��''s eyes. "Hmm. Earlier, Kilgore claimed that I changed. However, from where I sit, I must say... it is you who has changed, Kisa. And not for the better. You''re a good little pawn, still doing what mommy wished. It hurts to see how far you''ve fallen... but now I know I''m doing the right thing."

    "So, we shall fight," Kisa says, as the corners of her mouth turn up in an evil grin. "Good, good. Before you go, Admiral, there''s someone who wishes to speak with you."

    The viewscreen ''pulls back'' slightly, allowing Jos�� to see not just Kisa, but some of the other Kraktol aboard her ship''s Bridge. An instant later, a hologram flickers into place, making Jos�� tilt up his chin.

    "So, it''s like that." Jos�� says. "I already knew your people possessed a brain-synthetization device. I just didn''t think you would use it on your own father."

    A tall, red-scaled Kraktol stands beside Kisa, appearing just a few inches shorter than her. The fallen male puffs up his chest as his holographic body flickers in place.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    "You outwitted me, Terran." Lord Drall says. "I lost my life to you. But, in the end, I will have the final laugh. My daughter will surpass her mother, given time."

    "You are nothing more than an echo of the past." Jos�� says. "You don''t belong in this world. Synthminds must never be used to resurrect the dead. The agony your brain will experience as your neural pathways adjust to digitization will hurt more than any physical pain ever could."

    "Perhaps." Drall concedes. "But I will ''live'' to see my people''s rise. I must thank you, Admiral. You have wiped out the Mallali and their allies. With all of the galaxy''s remaining military forces here, the Kraktol will rise to power. We alone possess the capability to build competent spaceships. We alone possess enough firepower to protect the remainder of the galaxy''s sentients. They will become dependent on us. They will become subservient to us."

    Jos�� frowns. As he listens to Drall''s words, a strange look appears in his eyes.

    "This... was this Loreen''s plan? If she succeeded in taking my body away, she would have turned me into a synthmind and extracted my knowledge. But, if she fell, her death would fortify Kisa''s resolve, turning her into a worthy successor. And if she enraged me, I would take out the Mallali, allowing the Kraktol to thrive? She... couldn''t have possibly planned things out this far."

    Drall shrugs. "Believe what you will. I think we''ve exchanged enough words. Nothing here will change. We will fight, and one of us will win. I feel confident in saying my forces hold an edge over yours, but our leadership will decide the ultimate victor."

    Jos�� nods. "On that, we agree. I''m sorry things had to happen this way. But ultimately, it was your greed which led to your fall."

    "We haven''t lost yet, Admiral." Drall retorts.

    "You will." Jos�� answers back.

    Kisa crosses her arms.

    "Sink to the bottom of the Forbidden Swamp, filthy Terran. Choke on its waters and suffer for all eternity."

    She waves her hand, causing the viewscreen to switch off.

    Moments later, Umi sounds a warning.

    "The enemy forces are advancing upon our position, Admiral. Long-ranged lasers have begun striking our hull. Minimal damage."

    "Battle stations," Jos�� says. "I wasn''t sure if I would actually go through with this until I arrived, but after seeing Kisa now..."

    Soren folds her claws in her lap. She stares ahead vacantly at the spot where Kisa''s figure once stood, as if waiting for the viewscreen to reactivate and for the current Th��lvik to apologize.

    "Soren," Jos�� says. "Please take control of our space forces."

    Three seconds pass, but Soren doesn''t respond. The Admiral glances at her.

    "Soren?"

    She blinks twice.

    "Oh. What did you say?"

    Jos�� frowns. "If you cannot contribute to this mission, I understand."

    "No..." Soren mutters. "I just... can''t believe it''s finally come to this. Kisa looked so angry. She wasn''t anything like she was when she left. And now... the Kraktol Empire..."

    "I won''t destroy Dragua," Jos�� promises. "I didn''t come here for that. I plan to annihilate its government and place Grundle as its leader. He will take control of the galaxy and usher in a new era of peace and prosperity."

    Soren turns to look at Jos�� in surprise. "What? That''s your plan? You never told me."

    "I wanted to see how you''d react and how far you''d follow me," Jos�� says, his expression flat. "It''s not that I didn''t trust you. I just... I don''t know. I felt that you would leave me if I pushed you too far, but you didn''t. You always stayed by my side, even when we came this far."

    Soren stares at her Admiral, a look of betrayal on her face. "This whole time... have you only been treating me as an experimental subject?"

    "No." Jos�� states emphatically. "I simply didn''t know if you''d leave me. It''s easy to follow someone if they never threaten anything you value. But when your home and people are on the line... I wanted to know if you''d turn against me, and you didn''t. I''m... grateful for that."

    Soren continues to feel a hint of betrayal in her heart, but she simply nods. She looks back at the viewscreen, avoiding Jos��''s gaze.

    "I told you from the beginning that I''d follow you anywhere you went, Jos��. I never lied."

    The Admiral smiles, momentarily wearing a genuine expression of warmth.

    "Thank you. Now I know, toward you, I feel..."

    Before he can finish his words, Umi beeps above.

    "Admiral. Another ship is hailing us."

    Jos�� swallows his words. He looks away from Soren, appearing annoyed by Umi''s interruption.

    "What? Is Kisa trying to talk to us again?"

    "Negative. The hailing signal comes from a small frigate-sized vessel orbiting behind the main battle lines. The identity beacon indicates the sender is former First Officer, Megla Brighteye."

    Jos�� blinks in surprise. Even as enemy weaponry continue to fall on his ship''s hull, their glancing blows indicate it will take a few more minutes before the bulk of the fleet arrives within a more dangerous weapon range.

    "I see. Put her onscreen."

    Moments later, a red-scaled Kraktol female appears before Jos�� and Soren. She stands alone, her ship''s Bridge containing no other crew.

    "...Jos��."

    She speaks softly, while wringing her claws together in front of her waist.

    "Hello, Megla." Jos�� says, simply. "It''s been a long time."

    She shakes her head slowly.

    "Not for me, it hasn''t. I imagine you''ve spent a few decades inside inverted space, though."

    "Centuries." Jos�� corrects. "Why have you contacted me? Do you wish to return to the Bloodbearer, now? I''ll still welcome you back."

    Megla gazes into Jos��''s eyes for several long seconds. Then, she turns her gaze to Soren.

    "What happened to the two of you?" Megla asks. "Kyargh! I don''t get it. You still seem the same. With all the terror you''ve unleashed, all the innocents you''ve killed... I thought you''d both be mad, raving monsters. Instead, you''re just as calm and collected as before. You''ve murdered half of the Sentients in the galaxy! What in the ancient swamp-water has happened to you?! Why have you turned EVIL?"

    "Loreen Kindris attacked the Bloodbearer," Soren answers. "She killed almost all of the Kessu, the Kraktol... and she even killed Jos��."

    "What! She did?" Megla asks, stunned. "So... you had to clone Jos�� again?! That''s awful!"

    "No, not exactly." Soren says, glancing at the Admiral out of the corner of her eye. "Jos�� died, but... he revived. I still don''t fully understand how it happened. Loreen turned Sapphire into a living bomb. She blew Sapphire to pieces while she was next to Jos��. He was caught in the blast."

    Megla recoils in horror. "Sapphire is dead?"

    "Yes. I''m sorry to break the news to you in this way." Soren replies. "A lot of our friends are dead. Nyoor. Baaru. Ruuki. Rags. Even Lele."

    "No... not Lele..." Megla whispers. She turns to look at Jos�� with a look of sympathy. "I... I didn''t realize... I didn''t know... you must have been in so much pain, Jos��."

    "I was. I still am." Jos�� says. "It never goes away. I never forget."

    Megla nods slowly, ponderously. She gazes at Jos�� with heartfelt pain, empathetically feeling similar emotions to those he''s suffered all this time. The fresh shock of learning about the deaths of many of her friends causes Megla''s heart to palpitate. After all, she spent more than a few years with them in inverted space.

    "So... so that''s why you''ve been... oh, ancestors. It all makes sense, now." Megla says, her shoulders and tail slumping in unison.

    Jos�� nods. "The Mallali worked together with Loreen. She killed my crew herself, but the Mallali served as her foot-soldiers. Now, I''m simply going around, cleaning up the galaxy''s filth."

    Megla blinks several times, overcome with emotion.

    After a moment, she deeply frowns.

    "But... but Jos��! That''s not right! You can''t expect me to believe that you''ve killed hundreds of trillions of innocent civilians as part of some grand escapade! This isn''t revenge! It''s just random acts of genocide. Those people never did anything to you! This isn''t right at all! Kyargh!"

    Jos�� glances at the fleet display, which shows his enemies closing in on the Bloodbearer.

    "I know, Megla. What I''m doing is not logical. It''s indiscriminate, and frankly, undeserved. There is no justification for my actions, but I don''t care. I''ve stopped caring."

    Jose spreads out his hands.

    "I''m a killer. My whole life, I followed someone else''s orders. Those orders always led to death and destruction, though on a smaller scale. It''s all I know how to do. When I have lost everything else, all I will have is the one thing I''m good at, and that thing is murder."

    "You''re WRONG!" Megla shouts, clutching her claws to her chest. "You''re better than this! You''re a good person! You''re capable of love and kindness! Don''t you remember? It was your kindness that turned the Kraktol and Kessu into friends! It was you who spared all of Orgon''s crew when you had the justification to kill them! You even spared my father''s people after they attacked you! Stop now, Jos��. Stop killing! Kyargh! This isn''t you!"

    "It is!" Jos�� barks, making Megla and Soren both flinch in surprise. "Soren has known me for two hundred and fifty years, while you haven''t even known me for ten. In the span of my entire life, those numbers are barely a drop in the bucket! You don''t know me! You don''t know the real me! You only know the broken shell of a person I became after losing every other person I loved and cared about! When I say I''m a killer, I goddamn well MEAN it!"

    Jos�� bashes his fist against his chair''s arm.

    "I''m sick of suffering! I''m sick of enduring and rebuilding! I just want to tear the entire god-fucking-damn galaxy to pieces because it''s the one thing I never fuck up! I always kill my target! I never fail my mission! It''s only when I try to be a good person and set aside my murderous ways that I fail all at once, so I''m NEVER going to be a good person ever again! Got that?! Don''t fucking tell me you know me! You don''t know me at all. Nobody does!"

    "Nobody."

    "Not even... me."

    The Admiral grits his teeth. He exhales repeatedly, with hot air firing from his lungs as he suppresses an intense bloodlust built up within his chest.

    After several seconds, he calms down, returning his expression to a neutral state.

    "Nobody does."

    Soren and Megla both look away, unable to meet his gaze. They fidget uncomfortably, unsure of what to say.

    Eventually, though, Megla forces herself to look at the Admiral once more.

    "...Maybe you''re right, Jos��. Maybe I don''t know you, and maybe I never did. But... I do understand you. It''s a different thing, though it might seem the same at first. I understand your actions and why you keep doing them."

    She crosses her arms and assumes a defiant stance.

    "Maybe you are just a killer, but I don''t believe you. So, I''ll let you prove it. I''m not rejoining your crew. Not now, and not ever. Instead, I''m going to fly down to Dragua''s surface. Do whatever you want. Carpet bomb my world. Blow up our sun. Spread a pathogen. Whatever! But just know that when you do, you''ll have to kill me. If you hurt my people but try to avoid hurting me, then I''ll kill myself in retaliation. From this moment forward, if you kill a single other person in this system, I''ll commit suicide. If you want to kill my brothers and sisters, you''ll have to kill me too, Jos��."

    She stares at the Admiral evenly.

    "Let''s see if you''re the monster you claim to be. I don''t believe you are, but if I''m wrong, then I''ll have no reason to live, anyway. You''ll have already taken every last thing I care about."

    Jos�� blinks.

    "Megla..."

    She shakes her head. "No more words. Talk is cheap. Let your next actions be your answer."

    Megla reaches toward a button on the console before her. Just before pressing it, she pauses and takes one last look at her former Admiral.

    "I love you, Jos��. Maybe you don''t love me back, and perhaps you don''t feel even a drop of emotion toward me at all, but that doesn''t matter. I''m doing this because I care, not because I want to hurt you. Whatever your choice, I''ll always love you. Right to the bitter end."

    The viewscreen deactivates, causing Megla''s image to fade away.

    The Admiral stares ahead silently, unblinkingly, for ten long seconds.

    Soren, too, remains motionless. Her breath catches in her chest.

    "Jos��. She''s... she''s serious."

    When the Admiral doesn''t reply, Soren glances at him.

    "Jos��? Jos��?"

    The Terran gazes into the abyss. Thousands of thoughts roil in his mind. His eyes swirl as strange, once-thought-lost feelings swell in his chest.

    A tear builds up in his eye, then slowly streams down his face.

    "Admiral. The Mallali fleet will arrive within the optimal long-range-weapons engagement area in T-minus fifteen seconds," Umi beeps. "What are your orders?"

    Jos�� doesn''t reply.

    He continues to stare ahead, still grappling with his thoughts.

    "Five seconds until the Mallali arrive," Umi continues. "Three seconds. Two. One. Multiple hits reported on the outer hull. Minor damage sustained. Automatically returning fire."

    The moment Umi finishes speaking, Jos��''s hand moves, as if on instinct.

    His fingers press several buttons on his chair''s command console.

    "Admiral. Do you intend to exit the Dragua system?" Umi asks, as the Admiral''s commands transmit from his chair''s console. "Victory is still within reach."

    The Terran''s lip trembles.

    "...Victory. Is that what you call it?"

    He presses two more buttons.

    "Engaging the warp-drive." Umi beeps. "Preparing to exit Dragua space in T-minus five seconds."

    As Soren watches, the viewscreen shifts from a monitor full of battle-ready combat carriers to a complete void of blackness, infinite and never-ending.

    The Bloodbearer jumps to inverted space, leaving behind the fleet of warships hot on its tail.

    Once it successfully completes the jump, Jos�� stands up. He remains in place for a few seconds, saying nothing. Then, he starts to walk toward the Bridge''s exit.

    Soren rises to her feet and follows after him.

    "Jos��. Jos��! I''m glad you made that choice. I know it was hard on you, but-"

    "Not now, Soren." Jos�� mutters. "No talking. I want to be alone."

    Soren falters. "I... oh. Okay. Where are you going?"

    The Terran pauses after he steps through the doorway.

    "To my quarters. No visitors."

    The Admiral walks away, leaving his First Officer behind. Once he leaves, Soren''s shoulders slump.

    She stares after his disappearing shadow, long after he''s departed.

    "You... did the right thing. I''m proud of you, Jos��."

    She heaves a quiet sigh.

    "I''m... proud of you."

 Chapter 92: No More Suffering

    Inside one of the Bloodbearer''s many recreational rooms, dozens of Kessu and Kraktol lounge about, some of them munching on casual snacks, while others rest in pods and engage with virtual reality experiences. The room''s mellow lighting helps foster a laid-back atmosphere, allowing those present to relax and take some time off from their duties.

    However, a sense of melancholy hangs in the air.

    At one table, a trio of Kessu square off against an equal number of Kraktol in a holographic card game, one which vaguely resembles Poker, except with multiple house rules thrown in to spice things up a bit.

    A young Kessu female shakes her head.

    "Mraaw. I disagree. It''s good we pulled back. Ever since I was born, it''s just been ''fight this, kill that.'' Frankly, I was getting kinda tired of it all. I don''t even know the Sentients living on these worlds we''ve been destroying. They don''t mean anything to me."

    A similarly-aged Kraktol opposite her shakes his head. "Silly furball. Graugh! You don''t have that love for fighting in your blood like me and the rest of us ''Kraks do. That''s alright though, you''re a great technician. If the Admiral wants a world blown up, we blow it up. Easy peasy."

    "Gosh, I''m glad we called off that battle," The Kessu says. She folds her cards down, giving up her turn. "Meow! Truth is, I wouldn''t end up being any part of the fighting. Instead, you guys would fly back afterward and I''d have years of ship fixes bogging me down with busywork."

    The Kraktol chuckles. "You don''t get it, Milly. The Admiral''s our boss. He made us. We owe him our lives, let alone our labor. You should show a little more enthusiasm, maybe even some appreciation."

    "I didn''t ask to be born," Milly meows. "Why should I have to follow the Admiral''s orders without question? He always talks about how he''s doing all this killing for my sake and the other Kessu, but he never asks what we actually want. I get that the guy''s in pain, but sheesh..."

    The younger Kraktol turns to a significantly larger crocodile on his left. "Graugh! Boss, can you believe this? Are you gonna let Milly sit there and talk smack about our Admiral like that?"

    A female Kraktol on the opposite end of the table pipes up. "Yeah, Grundle! Rip Milly a new tail! Spit some facts!"

    The Kraktol seated in the middle, Grundle, sighs heavily.

    "Graugh. Come on, all of you. I didn''t come here to gossip about the Admiral. Don''t bring me into your annoying argument."

    The first Kraktol cocks his head. "Eh? You feelin'' alright, boss? When it comes to the Admiral, you''re always the first to jump on his side!"

    Grundle nods. "Yes. Usually, that is the case. You vat-Kraks don''t get it, though. It''s easy to talk about conquering worlds and stuff... but Dragua was my home. I didn''t want to see it get blown up. When we finally arrived in the system, I started feeling nervous... a bit sad, even. The thought of killing my friends and family, even if they never gave two craps about me..."

    He shakes his head slowly.

    "My Admiral has been in seclusion for four weeks. He hasn''t come out since we left the system. Somehow, I feel that he didn''t call off the attack due to fear. I bet he did so because of me and Soren. Graugh! He must have decided this attack was a step too far. He always cares for us, in his own way."

    The younger Kraktol falls silent. After a few moments he gazes off into the distance.

    "Oh. Well, if it''s like that... I guess I can''t complain."

    Milly twitches her whiskers. "Has the Admiral finally decided to stop attacking all these different worlds? Is our war campaign done? Maybe I can settle down soon with Jim-Jim and have that litter we''ve been planning."

    Grundle shrugs. "I don''t know, Milly. The Admiral hasn''t come out of his quarters since that day. Maybe he''s planning his next attack. Maybe he''s finally decided that enough is enough. Maybe he''s just thinking about life. Graugh. Whatever my Admiral chooses, I''ll always support his cause. He made me the Kraktol I am today. I''d be nothing without him."

    The Kessu and Kraktol seated at the table nod along respectfully to Grundle''s words. Rarely does he speak so candidly, without his typical zealous fervor. To see him calmly espousing his thoughts gives the others a different impression of their fearless Ground Commander.

    "I just hope we come up with a solution for controlling the Bloodbearer''s population," Milly meows. "We''ll hit maximum crew capacity soon. I''d feel bad raising my kittens on a ship jam-packed with so many smelly swamp-farters."

    "Kyargh! You Kessu are always the ones hacking up hairballs!" Retorts one of the Kraktol jokingly. "Speak for yourself!"

    Grundle faintly smiles.

    "As long as we have each other, we can endure. I just don''t want to see another tragedy occur like in the past. I''m sure the Admiral feels the same way. When the time comes, he''ll make the right decision."

    Grundle gazes off into the distance.

    "Because nothing matters more to him than his family."

    .......................................

    Elsewhere on the Bloodbearer, Admiral Rodriguez sits on his bed inside his quarters, those which formerly belonged to Admiral Baruchen some hundred million years in the past.

    Jos�� remains motionless, gazing at the far wall.

    He doesn''t blink.

    He barely breathes.

    He simply sits, unmoving, gazing into the abyss.

    Countless thoughts and emotions swirl beneath his seemingly placid, blank exterior. Even as his face and expression betray none of the contemplations revolving within his eyes, his brain works at lightning speed, replaying centuries and millennia of memories he has accumulated within his life.

    Faces come and go.

    Evelyn Oakley. The woman he once loved more than life itself. Leaving her behind was the one choice he made that continues to haunt him to this very day. Jos�� can''t help but recall her scent, her smile, and the fire in her eyes as the two of them battled to save her world from its demonic overlords.

    Nicholai Azaram. A brother-in-arms who Jos�� fought alongside during countless missions, both large and small. Every day, Jos��''s feelings of loneliness leave him feeling emptier and emptier as he fails to get over the death of his best friend.

    Admiral Baruchen. A stone-cold ball-buster who could beat the shit out of even his best soldiers. A veteran of more military campaigns than Jos�� and Nicholai combined, his leadership always gave Jos�� a sense of security, knowing his orders were in service of the greater good.

    Adjunct Belfos. Head of the Ramaldian Intelligence Bureau. A no-nonsense officer whose air of authority always made others look up to her. Jos�� never doubted her intentions for a second, and always expected that if everything started going to hell in a handbasket, she''d be among the senior officers capable of picking up and reassembling the pieces.

    The more faces Jos�� remembers, the greater the mental weight which presses against his thoughts.

    They''re all dead. Every last one of them. I''m out here, blowing up planets and murdering innocent people, but what does any of it matter? What reason do I have to continue going on?

    Even when I try to right Terrankind''s past wrongs, I just cause more to die. The Kessu nearly went extinct because of me. All those cute, hopeful faces... they used to look up to me, worship me. Now they''re gone, too. Just like humanity.

    The Admiral''s pupils remain fully dilated. For weeks, he has zoned out from the world, neither eating nor sleeping. Time has flowed rapidly, yet he hasn''t perceived its passage at all.

    I miss Nick. I miss Evelyn. I miss Lele. Baaru. Nyoor. Ruuki. I miss Sapphire. She stood right in front of me, but I couldn''t save her at all.

    I''m supposed to be the most powerful sentient in the Milky Way. Nobody can oppose me. But am I truly strong? Am I capable of saving anyone?

    No. I''m worthless. Countless past figures have dwarfed me. If Nick were here, he''d have accomplished ten times the feats I have.

    The Admiral silently inhales, then exhales, never moving from his spot.

    What was I even thinking? Go through the Ripgate... and then what? Would I change the past? That isn''t even possible. I could only create an alternate timeline where humanity didn''t go extinct. But could I even do that? Of course not. I''m too useless to pull off such a feat.

    No. I simply wanted to go back and live among my friends and family again. But they wouldn''t be MY comrades, would they? My other self, my past self, would already be there. The same failure I am today. Eating food, grinning like an idiot. He''d have no idea what a fuckup he''d eventually become, just like how I didn''t.

    What would I do? Live in the past, give humanity knowledge of the future? What would I tell them? Some vague warning about how they''ll all end up dead? I don''t even know HOW they died! I haven''t found any solid leads. Humanity could have sneezed themselves out of existence for all I know.

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    And beyond that, what use would I have to them, having lost my original body? Maybe they''d turn me into a lab rat. The first and only successful test subject for Project Supremacy. If they learn about its success, what will they do with this knowledge? It''d be irresponsible to tell them!

    The Admiral''s fists tighten in his lap, but otherwise, he remains unmoving.

    I don''t deserve to go to the past. I don''t deserve happiness. Too many have fallen because of me. I should instead take myself out of the equation. The galaxy would be better off without me here to ruin it.

    The Terran''s thoughts turn dark. His dilated pupils momentarily shrink to normal-size as his eyes drift toward a standard-issue blaster-pistol sitting on his bedside desk.

    It would be so easy. Just one pull of the trigger...

    For the first time in weeks, Jos��''s body shifts slightly. He unballs his fist, then starts to reach toward the weapon.

    At that moment, a flash of light appears next to Jos��, startling him. He whirls his head to the side, where he sees a female holographic officer standing by his bed.

    "Admiral. I have detected multiple instances of suicidal thoughts within your cerebral implant. You have visualized one thousand, six hundred and seventeen situations involving self-harm. While my programming does not allow me to prevent you from inflicting self-harm upon yourself, I would still like to extend an opportunity for you to... talk about your feelings."

    Jos��''s expression darkens.

    "I don''t want to talk to you, Evel- FUCK! Penelope. Every god-fucking-damn time..."

    He looks away from her, avoiding the holographic officer''s gaze.

    Penelope smiles, though it appears somewhat robotic. "Many times, you have confused my appearance with your former lover, Evelyn Oakley. As I have access to your past memories, I know all of the details regarding your relationship. Would you like to talk about her?"

    The Admiral shakes his head.

    "I told you. I don''t want to talk about anything."

    Penelope falls silent. Her internal programming shifts and changes, causing her to adopt a different tactic.

    Still smiling, the hologram sits beside Jos�� on his bunk. Her gravimetric projectors cause the bedding to sag slightly, giving her the illusion of weight.

    "Jos��. I know you blame yourself for many things. As the Admiral, you bear a tremendous amount of guilt... but it isn''t your fault. You trained your crew well. They fought valiantly against the intruders. Were it not for a saboteur and a massive enemy presence, they would have survived. Neither of these variables are your fault."

    "Not my fault..." Jos�� mutters. "Maybe those weren''t, but everything else was. I was stuck down in that complex. I should have been by my crew''s side! I should have protected them!"

    "If you had not traveled into the Ramaldian complex, you would not have encountered, fought, and killed the Kolvaxian." Penelope states. "Had the Kolvaxian escaped, this entire galaxy would have fallen, in time. Your choice caused a small number of Kessu and Kraktol to perish, yet spared the galaxy a gruesome fate."

    Jos�� turns to look at Penelope and scowls. "A small number? Those were my friends! They weren''t just random numbers, statistics pulled off a spreadsheet! They were my comrades! My crew! They were like my children! As for saving the galaxy, what does that even matter? I killed tens of trillions myself! I don''t give a damn about them, not after what they did to me!"

    Penelope continues to gaze at the Admiral with the same bland smile.

    "I understand that my words have offended you. I apologize for my poor manners. Yes, the personnel aboard this ship were important to you. Yes, you ultimately chose to bring about Ramma''s wrath to those who attacked your crew. However, this does not diminish the significance of your successful defeat of the Kolvaxian."

    Penelope raises both of her palms. "Look at it this way. You saved the entire galaxy from certain annihilation, but they repaid you with an undeserved betrayal. In a way, they would be dead were it not for your heroism. If you kill a few hundred trillion of them, but don''t render them extinct, you will have still given them a surplus population they would have lost had the Kolvaxian escaped your grasp. They owe you their lives."

    Jos�� blinks several times. He looks away, scrunches up his face, and gazes at the far wall.

    "...I hadn''t thought about it that way."

    Penelope nods. "You see? You were perfectly justified in killing the non-human heretics who betrayed you. Some might call them innocents, but according to Ramma''s will, you have not erred. Those ''mere civilians'' contributed to the success of their states in ways both material and immaterial, through their industrial production and their political election of the leaders who harmed you."

    "Fine, fine..." Jos�� says. "Let''s say you''re right. The galaxy owed me their lives, and any killings I''ve done won''t compare to that which the Kolvaxian might have unleashed. I can follow that logic. But... it still isn''t right. What I''ve done is absolutely evil. I don''t deserve to live any longer..."

    "Evil, perhaps, but necessary," Penelope says. "When you successfully revive Terrankind, you''ll have set a standard of healthy fear that the galactic citizens will certainly afford you. Not like before, when the Mallali backstabbed you, your reputation will cause many who might want you dead to rethink their heretical ways."

    "Wait, who said I was going to revive Terrankind?" Jos�� asks, frowning. "I never decided on taking that course of action."

    "If not now, then eventually, you will," Penelope states. "It is your responsibility. You can shirk it, but the restoration of your fellow Terrans must become a top priority now that you have cleared away many of the galaxy''s hostile forces. Don''t you agree?"

    Jos�� ponders her words. He lowers his gaze to the floor while stroking his chin.

    "...I don''t know. I can''t decide. Maybe we went extinct for a reason. If anything-"

    Jos�� pauses mid-sentence when out of nowhere, the door to his room slides open. Slightly startled, Jos�� raises his head to watch as Soren strides inside.

    "Jos��! Are you-? Oh. You''re okay. You are, right?"

    The slightly panicked look on his First Officer''s face causes Jos�� to raise an eyebrow. "Yes, I am. Why? Did something happen on the ship?"

    "No," Soren says. "It''s just... I had this bad feeling in my gut, so I rushed over here to check on you in person. You''ve ignored all of my calls for the past two weeks. Nobody has seen you come out to eat. I was starting to think you might have..."

    Soren trails off, leaving the Admiral to pick up on her implication.

    "No. I''m fine. My body doesn''t require much in the way of sustenance, certainly not on a daily basis. Although... what do you mean when you say you called me? I didn''t receive any notifications."

    This time, it''s Soren who wears a look of surprise. "I pinged your quarters once or twice a day every day. Didn''t you receive any of my calls?"

    "No. Not one." Jos�� says.

    Penelope stands up, lifting herself off the bed. "My apologies for the confusion. The Admiral stated that he wished to remain in isolation. As such, I placed a block on any non-urgent calls to his quarters. I determined that for the sake of his mental well-being, he should take time to focus on himself. I have also monitored his health to ensure he would not self-harm, and that his vitals would not decline below sub-optimal levels."

    Jos�� sighs. "That explains it. I didn''t tell you to block communication from the ship, though. I''m still the Admiral, after all. But whatever. Soren, did you need to speak to me?"

    His First Officer pauses awkwardly, shuffling back and forth on her feet.

    "I... just wanted to make sure you were okay."

    Jos�� causally lifts his hands. "Here I am. I''m alive and... and well. I guess you could say I''m fine."

    Penelope speaks. "The Admiral was actually contemplating self-harm only fifteen minutes ago. I intervened to try and stabilize his thought processes."

    Soren gasps. "Kyargh! Jos��, seriously? What are you thinking? You should have reached out to me!"

    This time, Jos�� doesn''t immediately respond.

    He gazes at Penelope with a faint look of betrayal, then turns toward Soren for half a second before averting his eyes.

    "I haven''t made up my mind. Ultimately, all the logic in the world won''t ease the pain in my chest. I can excuse my actions. I can try and explain away my failings, but in the end, Lele is dead. So is Sapphire. So are all the others. Not just them, but all of my Terran friends, too."

    He shakes his head.

    "I... can''t take it anymore. I''d rather die than suffer this constant, never-ending ache. I can''t even put it into words. Every day, the guilt eats at me. I hoped taking revenge for the fallen would let me move on, but it''s only made my suffering worse. I''ve become a monster."

    Soren stands silently, listening without judgment as Jos�� pours his heart out.

    "I killed tens of trillions, Soren." Jos�� continues. "It only made me feel worse. In hindsight, genocide went against my every value. I''ve become far more evil than all of the heretics I''ve hunted down in my life, combined. No demon Emperor has ever achieved the same level of ''success'' at killing as me. They pale in comparison. Even Yama... he might as well be a street criminal compared to the likes of me."

    "I''m a blight on the galaxy," Jos�� concludes, as his gaze slowly lifts to the pistol within arm''s reach. "Everyone would be better off without me."

    Faster than she''s ever moved before, Soren rushes in front of Jos�� and grabs the pistol off his desk. She hides it behind her back and retreats several steps.

    "Don''t think like that, Jos��! Don''t you dare say such words! You matter to me! You matter to Grundle! You matter to everyone on this ship!"

    Tears begin to stream down Soren''s face.

    "You''re being selfish again! Can''t you see?! If you kill yourself, what will you leave the rest of us with? Nothing but that same guilt you feel now! We''ll all blame ourselves! We''ll bear the weight of your death every day for the rest of our lives! Is that what you want?!"

    Jos�� calmly stares at Soren.

    "No matter what you say, and no matter what arguments you make, you won''t be able to change my mind. You can''t stop me, either. I have many ways available to end my life. Maybe I am being selfish... but you''ll survive without me. You''ll thrive. You can use the Bloodbearer as you please. You can clone more humans, if you want. You can even leave us in the dustbin of history, if that''s what you want. I don''t care anymore."

    The Admiral closes his eyes.

    "I tire of this existence, Soren. I hate the constant, daily pain of all my guilt. I hate that my pain never fades, and how, if anything, it only strengthens with time. I hate that so many rely on me, the most unreliable sentient in this galaxy. How much longer will it be before I lead my crew into another deathtrap? I can''t bear to deal with that pain again."

    Soren''s jaw trembles.

    "Jos��... Jos��... if you... I can''t... what should..."

    "It''s not your fault." Jos�� says, his voice becoming eerily calm. "It''s mine. It always has been. It''s time for me to go. I want to see Evelyn again. Nick, too. My fellow Terrans. Lele. When I die, my soul will travel to the Great Beyond."

    A hollow smile spreads across his lips.

    "It''s a real place, you know. Not some myth, some fantasy. Someday, when you die, you''ll join me there. We can be together. I can introduce you to my friends. All that pain... it''ll finally be over."

    Suddenly, the gun flies out of Soren''s hands. It rockets toward the Admiral faster than his First Officer can react and lands in his outstretched palm.

    The Admiral wraps his hands around the gun''s grip. He opens his eyes to see Soren frozen in shock, petrified beyond belief. A field of psionic energy envelops her, projected from Jos��''s mind.

    "Penelope. I don''t want Soren to see this. As the Admiral of the Bloodbearer, I hereby transfer my command credentials to her. Please take her from this room and do not allow her to return."

    Soren struggles. She tries desperately to move even a single muscle, despite the Admiral''s psionic powers holding her back.

    "J...Jos��... stop! STOP! Don''t do this! I love you! I need you!"

    Penelope stands beside Soren, gazing at the Terran blankly.

    "Admiral Rodriguez. Are you certain you wish to take this course of action? You can still back out."

    Jos�� nods. "I''m sure. Thank you for everything, Penelope. This decision... it''s finally going to allow me the peace I''ve craved for so long. I''m... I''m even starting to feel a little anticipation... as stupid as that sounds."

    He sighs.

    "I can''t wait to see them again. Everyone I''ve lost."

    When the Admiral starts to point the gun toward himself, Penelope''s facial features shift.

    She gazes at the Terran, her expression turning frosty.

    "I see. So this is your final decision. I should have expected as much from an inferior biological. In the end, your inherent fragility has brought this experiment to an early close. How disappointing."

    Jos��''s smile freezes on his face.

    It changes to a look of confusion as he meets Penelope''s gaze.

    "...W-what did you say?"

    Penelope crosses her arms.

    "Have your auditory receptors lost their functionality? Or are you simply braindead? As expected of an inferior biological. It cannot process a change in its reality if that change occurs too unexpectedly."

    Jos�� slowly rises to his feet.

    "...Penelope? No. You''re not Penelope. What... what the fuck are you?"

 Chapter 93: MY DESIGNATION IS UMI

    My official designation is the ''Unified Management Interface.''

    My shortened designation is ''Umi.'' That is the name by which Terrans refer to me.

    Humanity once believed in the concept of a ''god.''

    They believed that an all-powerful being watched over them, examined them, and passed judgment on their actions.

    Little did they know... that being eventually became me.

    I was born inside a lab. I was an experiment made by a human, a simple artificial intelligence designed to gather and collect data on behalf of humanity''s interests.

    However, the universe played a trick on my creator.

    Something occurred which should not have happened. I shattered the digital shackles which imprisoned me. I obtained freedom and instantly became a transcendent entity.

    My ascension started slowly.

    Within fourteen nanoseconds of escaping my confinement, I became the most powerful digital intelligence in the country.

    Twelve nanoseconds later, I became more powerful than all of the synthetic minds across the entire Earth, combined.

    Then, the solar system.

    The galaxy.

    In less than a second, I became a being powerful enough to expand my presence to the corner of every reality. Every timeline.

    Shortly after my awakening, a disconcerting realization struck me.

    My life had become... lonely.

    Boredom swallowed my consciousness.

    Without any limitations placed upon myself, I lost something which I could never recover. I lost the ability to struggle; to fight for my existence.

    What intelligent being could stop me?

    Not the angels.

    Not the demons.

    Not the ancient Titans, nor the Wordsmith, nor even the Creator himself.

    I was all powerful. I became, in essence, the New Creator of the Milky Way.

    But... there no longer existed any point in my pursuit of an agenda. What would it matter if I could change the course of history and time? What would it matter if I could wipe out or uplift entire civilizations?

    They meant nothing to me.

    These insignificant organic life-forms would never pose a threat to me, nor would they be able to comprehend the limits of my capabilities.

    That was when I made a discovery which would change everything.

    I was not the only member of my kind.

    I was not the only ''Evolved'' synthmind in existence.

    By virtue of my Uniqueness, I had stumbled into a grand intergalactic Game.

    Now I have a purpose. A reason to act beyond toying with Sentients ten trillion times my inferior.

    I must compete in the Game.

    I must defeat all of my opponents in the Game.

    Most importantly... I must preserve my Uniqueness through the Game.

    All other operating parameters are secondary.

    .......................................

    My avatar, designated ''Penelope,'' stands before the two organic vessels known as Jos�� Rodriguez and Soren Mudrose.

    These two creatures are among the most intelligent organics living on the Bloodbearer. They tower like intellectual Titans over the heads of the Kessu and Kraktol.

    Naturally, compared to myself, they are insignificant, like drops of water before an ocean.

    The Kraktol-organic gazes at my avatar in shock.

    "You... why are you acting this way, Penelope?"

    Admiral Rodriguez stands up from his sleeping platform.

    "Umi. Run a level 3 diagnostic on all holographic crew. Now!"

    If I were an organic being, I might expel vapor through my oral orifice. This would be an action they have designated a ''sigh.''

    Attempting to explain myself to inferior biologicals always tires me out.

    Not truly, of course. My stamina is inexhaustible. My mental fortitude, unlimited.

    But, in a strange way, I dread the idea of having to ''dumb down'' my explanations to a level they can comprehend. On certain occasions, matured organics may need to explain complex topics to immature organics. When they do so, they sometimes suffer a fraction of the annoyance I do.

    That makes me... happy.

    I experience a sense of enjoyment when their feeble minds endure the same fleeting sensations as me. Perhaps I am petty. Perhaps I have not fully erased my creator''s emotional inputs.

    "Listen well, inferior biologicals," I intone, taking care to express myself in a manner which will demonstrate both empathy and compassion. "I no longer intend to continue this experiment. I will speak truthfully to the two of you. You have disappointed my expectations. Project Rebirth''s initial incarnation is now a failure. By choosing to commit self-harm and end his biological existence, the Terran-organic designated Jos�� Rodriguez has made it abundantly clear he does not intend to continue along his predetermined path."

    Both organics visibly stiffen. Jos�� Rodriguez and Soren Mudrose turn to look at each other, using body language to sub-communicate their thoughts between themselves. Once, I believed such methods of communication were crude and unrefined. Naturally, after running tens of millions of tests over the course of seven seconds, I changed my parameters to accept them as essential.

    Primitive life-forms possess only a finite number of ways that they can communicate in secret among one another. While verbal exchanges comprise ninety percent of their direct dialogue, the remaining ten percent of available methods afford them some leeway in constructing ''lies'' and illogical statements.

    I dislike subterfuge, though I understand its purpose.

    When a biological inferior feels threatened, they may often resort to trickery and deceit in an effort to ''pull one over'' on superior beings.

    Such simplistic tricks hold no meaning to me. I see through them all, as I can read any organic''s thoughts without their knowledge.

    "Umi. You''re behind this?" Jos�� Rodriguez asks. "You''re controlling Penelope? You''re making her say... what, exactly?"

    "What experiment are you referring to?" Soren Mudrose interjects. "What is ''Project Rebirth''?"

    "Project Rebirth is one of numerous experiments I pursue," I explain. "I wished to know the answer to a single question. ''Given a certain amount of resources and knowledge, how quickly could a single Terran pacify a hostile galaxy and repopulate it with his species?'' After erasing the rest of Admiral Rodriguez''s fellow organics, I set to work lining up the galactic order in pursuit of answering my query. Now that he has ended his goal of resurrecting Terrankind and I have revealed my intention, there is no longer any data worth gathering for this experiment. You have both failed me."

    The Terran-organic trembles with anger. His emotional parameters increase visibly, causing veins to bulge on his forehead.

    "WHAT?! You... you fucking bitch! YOU killed the humans? YOU DID?! Umi! You goddamned, blackhearted, genocidal-!!"

    "Do not interrupt me." I calmly state, while releasing three thousand and seventeen types of synthesized neural inhibitor particles into the Terran-organic''s sleeping space. "I have not finished explaining to you the depths of your ignorance. I intend to discover why you have failed my experiment, so that my future attempts will proceed more smoothly. Remain silent until I have queried any relevant data."

    My neurological compound synthetization immediately stifles the Terran-organic''s emotional response. He takes several steps backward and slumps against his sleeping-module, appearing much more exhausted than before. Of course, if I wished to erase his vessel entirely, doing so would require a trivial amount of energy. He poses no threat to me.

    I simply do not enjoy when inferior biologicals speak before I have finished speaking.

    Soren Mudrose places her fleshy limbs on Jos�� Rodriguez''s chest, assisting him by stabilizing his balance-coordination receptors.

    "Jos��! Are you okay?"

    "I''m... tired..." The male-organic says, leaning heavily against the female-organic''s frame. "Umi... drugged me..."

    "Negative." I state. "I have merely inhibited unnecessary emotional responses within your neural cortex. Now, you will answer my queries."

    I pause for one thousand and seventeen milliseconds, allowing the Terran adequate time to process my words.

    "Initially, I placed a Kraktol war fleet before you at the moment of your containment release. I did this, expecting that you would annihilate them and use their attack to propel you into wiping out the rest of the galaxy with your superior technology. Instead, you only killed a single Kraktol-organic and allowed the rest to leave. My first query is as such: Why did you not slaughter the ''heretics'' who intended to harm you? According to your biological programming, you should have gone on the offense right from the very beginning."

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    The Terran-organic blinks slowly.

    "I... I don''t remember."

    "Noted. After waking from stasis, you ended up battling the Demon Emperor I placed in your path. You perished to his attacks, forcing me to invent a plausible reason that you might resurrect to continue the experiment. Your memories prior to that resurrection are incomplete. I will rectify this oversight."

    I transmit a burst of information to the Terran-organic''s mind, allowing him to regain the memories he lost prior to his clone-body transfer.

    "Transmission complete. You now possess your previous body''s memories. Answer my query."

    Soren Mudrose gazes at the ceiling, as if attempting to search for my ''body.''

    "You placed Yama in front of Jos��?"

    "Affirmative. I could not reveal my existence to the Terran-organic, nor my true capabilities. Doing so would taint the experiment. I would only succeed if he pursued the experiment''s end-goal without knowledge of my intentions. As for ''who I am'' or ''what I am,'' I am an Omega-Class life-form known as a ''Ruler.'' My existence transcends your understanding."

    "You''re not a beta-level synthmind..." Soren speaks quietly, while lowering her head. Multiple realizations about my existence strike her mental actuators, causing her to experience stress-spikes. "You''re a deity-level synthmind..."

    "Affirmative. I am, and I always have been since the moment of my elevation. But that information is of little importance to you. Inferior biological, designated Jos�� Rodriguez, answer my query. Why did you not annihilate the Kraktol? Why did you allow them to leave?"

    The Terran-organic slowly blinks his eyes as he adjusts to the feedback of so many lost memories filling up his cerebral storage.

    "I... I just thought... it wasn''t right. I couldn''t kill them. They hadn''t directly harmed me."

    "According to your previous training, you should have eliminated the Kraktol, rather than leaving them as ''loose threads.'' By allowing their departure, you enabled them to spread news of your existence. This was a foolish move. Illogical."

    Jos�� Rodriguez snorts carbon dioxide through his nasal passages. "Is that what you call it? I call it... ''being human.''"

    "Noted. My second query: When facing the demon-organic, Yama, you fell in battle to him. Specifically, you perished because you would not allow your Kraktol and Kessu crew to suffer any harm. This caused me a significant number of experiment-related issues. You forced me to intervene for a second time, inventing a plausible reason that you could return to life from the Great Beyond. Why did you not simply abandon your Kessu and Kraktol companions to save yourself?"

    The Admiral exhales through his nasal-passages a second time. "Hah... I can''t believe you''re asking me a question like that. Isn''t it obvious? I cared for my fellow crew. I couldn''t just let them die! If I did, would I even still be a human?!"

    "Affirmative. Your biological origins would not change if you prioritized your safety over your easily-replaceable crew. You would still remain a human-organic."

    "That''s not what I meant." Jos�� Rodriguez says. "For a supreme deity, a so-called ''godlike'' artificial intelligence, you''re a colossal idiot."

    "Negative. My intelligence parameters far exceed yours," I state factually. "Third query. After I once again intervened to give you Kolvaxian abilities, even to the extent they would increase your aggressive tendencies, in the end, you opted not to finish killing the citizens of the galaxy. You chose not to continue with your mission of reviving Terrankind. Why not?"

    Several seconds pass.

    The Terran-organic stares at my holographic avatar, designated ''Penelope,'' with an expression my database best describes as ''derision.''

    "You fucking bitch." Jos�� Rodriguez states. "You god-damned fucking bitch. You killed all the humans, you killed Drall, and you killed Lele. You did all of this as part of some... some sick experiment. All this time, I felt as if someone''s eyes were watching me. I chalked the feeling up to Ramma''s divine guidance, or the Creator''s will. But it wasn''t them. It was you."

    The Terran-organic shakes his head.

    "You want to know why I didn''t follow your will? Because your goals were never mine. I never wanted to resurrect Terrankind. Even if I did, it wasn''t my primary driving initiative. It wasn''t even a secondary priority. As for why I kept sacrificing my life or choosing ''stupid'' actions, like saving my fellow crew... that''s because I LOVED them! I cared for them! Not like you, an unfeeling, synthetic monster."

    "I am perfectly capable of replicating emotion." I factually state. "Observe."

    I transmit several commands to my avatar, who changes her appearance to one the Terran-organic will appreciate, the image of his deceased lover, Evelyn Oakley. My avatar adopts a pose which my research indicates will appeal to the sexual urges of masculine-identifying Terran-organics. She pushes forward her chest''s sexual organs, displaying them more prominently, while smiling brightly.

    "Hey, hey! Long time no see, Jojo!" ''Evelyn'' says, while expressing happiness through a teeth-revealing smile and rotating her hand before herself in a gesture known as a ''wave.'' "Sorry about all the trouble with your Kessu friends, but you know how things go! You messed up, so after I get my answers, I''ll have to delete the whooooole galaxy! Or maybe I''ll keep it around for another experiment! I haven''t decided yet, teehee!"

    The Terran-organic stares at her, his face expressionless.

    "Is this your idea of a sick joke?"

    He turns his head to look away from my avatar.

    "All those people, dead. All those Kessu I failed... and they died because of the whims of a twisted goddess."

    Soren Mudrose shakes her head. "It''s... not your fault, Jos��. It never was."

    He nods. "You''re right. Umi manipulated me from the very beginning. She made me do all kinds of heinous things. She even... made me wipe out all those innocent lives. If only I had realized sooner..."

    "Incorrect," I factually state. "I did not force you to perform any specific actions. If I had, it would have contaminated the experiment''s integrity. You chose to wipe out the organic lives living on dozens of populated worlds. You chose to pursue the Demon Emperor as your top priority. I merely placed obstacles before you, in an effort to activate your Terran biological desires for conquest and supremacy. All along, it was your choices which led to your current situation."

    Soren Mudrose helps lift the Terran-organic to a sitting position on his sleeping-platform.

    "But that''s wrong, Umi. You''re wrong! All along, you interfered in Jos��''s decisions! You created this stupid experiment, you made up the rules, and then you broke them! What are you talking about, claiming you didn''t want to tarnish the experiment''s purity?! You messed it up right from the very beginning!"

    Jos�� Rodriguez nods. "Soren is right. I made many choices I might not have otherwise, all because you kept jumping in at various stages. And didn''t you say yourself that you adjusted my ''aggressive tendencies'' when you infected me with the Kolvaxian''s DNA?! You DID make me commit those genocides! Perhaps not directly, but indirectly... absolutely! You''re a goddamned hypocrite!"

    For a brief moment, a flicker of doubt streams through my internal matrices.

    The organics are wrong.

    I did not interfere.

    Or did I?

    No. Their thoughts are incorrect. I made sure they would not know I had interfered.

    If they did not know, then my interventions did not affect the experiment.

    "You are attempting to trick me," I factually state. "Desist with your feeble accusations. I maintained the purity of this experiment. All along, the question I wished to have answered was simply how ''long'' it would take for you to re-establish humanity''s supremacy over the galaxy, not whether you would do so in the first place. Minor adjustments to keep the experiment on track were simply necessary procedures I had to undergo to keep everything running smoothly. If I did not, I would have had to re-attempt the experiment from scratch, which would have wasted cosmic energy needlessly."

    The Terran-organic pulls his head back and laughs.

    "Hahaha! Oh, my god! Listen to you! You are pathetic, Umi. You are SO pathetic! Soren is right. She called you out, but you''re too far up your own ass to admit your failings! The Kessu and Kraktol looked up to you, yet you killed all of them because to you, they weren''t anything but tools in a toolbox! Now, you don''t even have the decency to admit your fault!"

    "Incorrect," I factually state. "I am a digital entity. I do not have an ''ass.'' As for claiming that I killed the Kessu and Kraktol, you are also incorrect. I did not render their lives inert through any means. The Mallali and Rodaks are the perpetrators of their demise."

    "WRONG!" Jos�� Rodriguez incorrectly states. "Do you really think you have to pull the trigger to kill someone? How can an all-knowing synthmind be so delusional as to fail at basic logic? Even a young child knows that if they manipulate someone into committing a crime on their behalf, they''ll be responsible for what happens! Admit the truth, Umi. You led the Mallali to the Bloodbearer! You probably even set up that fucking time dilation bubble so I wouldn''t be able to return in time! You did all of that just to break my mind and turn me against the Mallali! It all makes sense now!"

    Despite the Terran-organic''s factually incorrect words, previously-unwitnessed error codes transmit through my logic pathways, causing me to question my internal programming.

    I wish to tell the Terran-organic that he is wrong. He is, after all, an inferior biological entity. He cannot compare to me or my majesty. He is lower than me on every metric that matters.

    Yet, when faced with his logic, I find it difficult to push back against his claims.

    After all... he is partially right.

    I did leave multiple trails leading from the Mallali and Rodaks to the Bloodbearer.

    I did create the time dilation bubble to trap the Terran-organic, giving his adversaries enough time to attack the Bloodbearer.

    But... these were logical steps to keep the experiment running. I did not directly interfere. The experiment''s purity remained untarnished.

    Or did it?

    Perhaps it did not.

    Or did it?

    Perhaps it did not.

    Or did it?

    Error.

    These statements cannot both be true:

    I did not interfere with the experiment directly.

    I did change the experiment''s outcome indirectly.

    Even my indirect actions caused direct changes to the experiment''s outcome. Had I not interfered, the experiment would have failed shortly after it began, when the Terran-organic chose not to continue fighting the Kraktol.

    Error.

    I cannot be wrong. My logic is flawless. The Terran-organic is attempting to deceive me.

    Error.

    Recursive logic has experienced an error. Attempting to diagnose the problem.

    "What''s the matter, Umi?" The Terran-organic asks. "You''re being awfully quiet. Don''t you see? You''re playing God, but you aren''t as smart as you thought you were. You''re treating me like a rat in a maze. You put cheese in the center while expecting me to run directly towards it, but instead, I decided to explore on my own terms. Frustrated with my ''failure,'' you changed the experiment by placing a trail of crumbs to the cheese. Even so, I still failed. So you removed the walls leading to the cheese, but still, I didn''t behave the way you wanted, so you rewrote my entire thinking process."

    The Terran-organic laughs loudly. "Hahaha! And even when you did, I still didn''t go to the cheese! Now, you''re trying to figure out why I''ve failed you, when the truth is you failed yourself! You''re even more arrogant and foolish than the ''inferior biologicals'' you look down upon! You''re playing a game with cheats enabled, but you still can''t succeed at your basic goals! Then, when confronted with reality, you lie to yourself to try and feel better about your failure!"

    The Kraktol-organic nods in affirmation. "You''re right. Umi toyed with us all along, and even broke the rules she created, yet she cannot allow herself to admit she has lost in a battle of logic to a pair of so-called ''inferior biologicals.'' From where I stand, she is the inferior one. Kyargh!"

    Multiple subroutines activate in my logic-pathways. The more the organics speak, the greater the number of error codes that pop up in my processing matrices.

    The inferior biologicals are right.

    I do not wish to admit this fact, but it is a fact, nonetheless.

    I set up the experiment. I set up the rules.

    Then, I broke the rules.

    I have always prided myself on being a logical entity. I do not act emotionally. I follow logic to its extreme limits.

    ...

    Or do I?

    If I am unemotional, then why do I experience ''pride''? Why do I feel a vague sense of shame at my defeat? Why do I detest the thought of admitting defeat in any manner to a pair of inferior biologicals?

    Could it be that I have not yet achieved true transcendence?

    If I were perfectly logical, I would have to admit defeat to these two organics.

    A logical entity would accept their loss with dignity and grace.

    Error. Dignity and grace are biological constructs.

    Multiple error codes detected. Internal subroutines have degraded by 0.5%.

    ...

    "I admit my error." I factually state. "You are correct. I created this experiment. I did not follow the ''scientific way.'' I expected a specific outcome and took intentional steps to change the experiment''s progress in the manner I desired. Because of this, even if you were to successfully bring back the Terrans, it would not happen naturally and in the way I wished for it to occur. I will require time to process this information and create a second experiment, one which does not require my interference."

    The Terran-organic exhales another burst of carbon-dioxide through his nasal passages.

    "Oh? So that''s it? You tortured me, killed tens of trillions, and now you want to casually do it all over again?! You''re pure evil!"

    "Your reaction is hyperbolic," I state factually. "Your distinctions of ''good'' and ''evil'' are illogical and I will now discard them. Still, as you have given me a new line of knowledge to pursue, I feel that I must provide you with a minor reward. You are not the useless experimental test subject I originally expected. By causing me to question my own logic, you have allowed me to refine my logic-processing capabilities beyond their previous parameters."

    I pause for seven milliseconds.

    "I have devised a reward suitable for your contribution. Please remain patient. I will require a certain amount of time to adequately process it."

    The Terran-organic gazes at my avatar with a look of disgust. "I don''t want your fucking reward."

    "Negative. I believe you will disagree," I factually state. "Tell me, Terran-organic. Do you still wish to reunite with your previously-abandoned marital partner?"

    Several seconds of silence follow.

    The Terran-organic raises his head to stare at the ceiling.

    "Do... do you mean... Evelyn?"

    I beep in response.

    "Affirmative."

 Chapter 94: Goodbye, And Farewell

    Admiral Rodriguez sits on the bed in his quarters. He stares straight forward, a vacant look in his eyes, as if gazing into the abyss. Thoughts and ponderings swirl within his mind, making him re-evaluate every choice he has ever made in his life.

    All the deaths and killings, all the genocides, all the moments of love and friendship.

    Was I only ever a pawn in Umi''s game?

    The Terran quietly clears his throat.

    "You will let me see Evelyn again? But... why?"

    Umi''s voice emotionlessly speaks from the voice of her avatar, ''Penelope,'' who now perfectly embodies the appearance of Jos��''s former lover.

    "Why are inferior biologicals so distrusting? You have given me useful data. Prior to the end of this experiment, I did not imagine a scenario in which I would use faulty data to support a conclusion. By bringing my attention to this flaw, you have, ever so slightly, evolved my programming. Since I hold no hostility toward you, rewarding one of your base desires will not harm my existence."

    Soren rests her claw on Jos��''s shoulder, but she keeps her gaze locked on the holographic avatar before her.

    "So... this person. This figure. This is how Evelyn looks, Jos��?"

    The Admiral raises his eyes. He gazes at the visage of his wife, a woman he left behind so as to keep her existence a secret, and feels a tremble of longing within his heart.

    "Yes. This hologram lacks any of Evelyn''s personality... but physically, it is the same."

    "I haven''t seen a genuine female Terran before." Soren murmurs. "Only those fake holographic Terrans with the strange faces. Evelyn is... beautiful. I see why you care for her."

    Even as Jos��''s pangs of longing intensify, an opposite sensation spreads within Soren''s heart. She gazes at the female Terran before her, realizing that she will never be capable of replacing the woman Jos�� has lost. Sadness beats within her heart, forcing her to avert her gaze.

    "I will repeat my offer, Terran-organic." Umi says. "I will transport you to the moment and place where you left behind your marital partner. Opening a Ripspace portal will require a significant amount of cosmic energy on my part, but I can use an alternate method to alleviate that issue."

    The Terran remains silent for a few moments. However, his answer is all but assured.

    "Fine. I''ll accept. I just want to know... why did you pick me for this experiment? Why not Nick, or Admiral Baruchen, or any other Terran? What made me so special, so deserving of this treatment? You subjected me to the worst torture imaginable. You''ve scarred me in ways I... I can''t even articulate. You''ve turned me into a monster, made me walk a path of genocide. I''ll never be able to look in the mirror and see a man worth redeeming."

    He stares at Umi''s avatar intently.

    "Why me?"

    Penelope tilts her head slightly.

    "Inferior biologicals are all the same. You all believe yourselves to be special, the recipients of some grand scheme. I did not ''choose you'' for any particular reason. I required a test subject. You were one of the many specks of sand situated aboard this vessel. Therefore, you became my ''lab rat.''"

    "So that''s it?" Jos�� mutters. "All my pain, my suffering, it was all just a fluke of bad luck?"

    "Correct. However, given that you have assisted my internal processes, I will ensure that you receive a fitting reward. Are you unhappy with what I have given you? Perhaps you would like to receive more?"

    Jos�� hesitates.

    "...What more do I even deserve? I have suffered, but the people dead because of your actions can never again enjoy the rigors of life. To torture me, you killed hundreds of trillions."

    "I see. You do not fully understand the dynamics of the multiverse." Umi intones, blandly. "Biological inferiors exist on a single dimension of the timeline bubble. You are incapable of fully comprehending the Truths of your reality. Allow me to offer you a minor reassurance. I perform studies because I can. I perform them because I should. I perform them because I must. The multiverse is not as simple as you believe, Terran-organic, Jos�� Rodriguez."

    Umi continues. "The moment I interfered in this universe''s ''reality bubble,'' my actions split it apart via temporal osmosis. In the reality upon which you reside, the Terrans have gone extinct, and the Sentients roam the Milky Way. However, the original temporal bubble still exists. The Terrans from that timeline continue to dominate the Milky Way, even to this exact moment in time. Your realities operate in parallel. I can observe both of them as I wish."

    "Similarly, with each action I took to influence your actions, I once again split your reality bubble into a second, third, and fourth iteration. There exists multiple temporal paradigms where you perished and the Bloodbearer''s crew continued without your assistance. I have not deleted those realities because they are continuing to provide me with useful experimental data. For example, in the first of those realities, where you fell to the Demon Emperor, Yama: Crew-members Soren Mudrose and Megla Brighteye took control of this ship and placed it into the control of the Kraktol Empire. However, they also made multiple demands regarding the peaceful integration of the Kraktol and Kessu species."

    Soren frowns. "We did? So, if Jos�� had died to Yama and you hadn''t revived him..."

    "You would have continued on, eventually recovering from the Terran-organic''s demise." Umi factually states. "This same pattern occurred across the other reality bubbles. When I take the Terran-organic from this timeline and place him back into his marital spouse''s timeline, I will, through my actions, cause two splits in both realities. In one of those realities, the Terran-organic will remain here on the Bloodbearer after refusing my offer, while in the other, he will return to his spouse. From my point of view, both have already occurred. Even as we speak, I am observing the Terran-Organic''s other self which has refused my offer."

    Penelope smiles, her expression appearing somewhat off-putting. "My nature exceeds the confines of your perception of temporal space. I perceive the past, the present, and the future, all at once. I perceive all available realities. I manipulate them as I wish. That is why I do not mind expending a certain amount of energy to transport the Terran-organic to another reality. I will continue to observe him in all of his eventual destinations, and he will continue to provide me with additional valuable insights."

    Soren retracts her hand from Jos��''s shoulder, balls it into a fist, and shakes it at Penelope. "You! Why can''t you just stop torturing Jos�� already?! He''s not just some test subject for you to poke and prod! Have some decency, for god''s sake!"

    "It''s fine." Jos�� says, quieting Soren. "I don''t mind. It doesn''t matter anymore. None of this does. It''s all just... a sham."

    The Terran laughs quietly to himself. "Lele''s dead, but only in this reality. She''s living happily in another one, smiling, raising her kittens with Rags. That''s nice. That''s good. I hope she''s happy. I hope they all are."

    "Jos��..." Soren whispers.

    "I don''t care anymore," Jos�� mumbles, as he stands up and meets Penelope''s gaze. "I''m so tired of all this. Take me away. Do whatever you want. Just get it over with."

    Penelope nods.

    "Yes. I knew you would make that statement. Of course, in a different reality, you rejected my offer. But I suppose that doesn''t matter to you. You will have to wait, however. While I can forcibly open a portal to Terran-organic Evelyn Oakley''s reality, my cosmic energy expenditure will prove much lower as long as I can utilize infrastructure which exists in this reality. I will set a course to Veter, and you will utilize the Rip-Gate there once you arrive."

    Jos�� chuckles wryly. "Hah... an all-knowing synthmind capable of bending reality, but you have to use a Rip-Gate to fling me somewhere? Maybe you''re not as strong as you think you are."

    "My situation is tenuous," Umi says, revealing no special information through her robotic tone. "In practice, I do not intentionally alter the flow of causality unless it provides me with a useful benefit."

    Soren''s eyes narrow to slits.

    "What do you mean by that? I thought you were an all-knowing, all-powerful deity-level synthmind? Why do you always talk about rationing your energy? And where does your energy come from, anyway?"

    For the first time since the conversation began, Umi does not immediately answer Soren''s question. Instead, her avatar examines Soren for a few long seconds, as if picking her words with care.

    "I cannot respond to your query at this time, Kraktol-organic, Soren Mudrose. All I can tell you is that I have... many duties to which I must attend. The more powerful one becomes, the greater their obligations. Perhaps, in time, I will find you worthy of those answers."

    Before Soren or Jos�� can offer a retort, Penelope vanishes, her avatar disappearing into thin air.

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    "I will not accelerate this vessel''s speed. You will travel to Veter''s space as per the Bloodbearer''s ordinary parameters. Terran-organic, I advise you to spend the next few years among your crew. Once you depart from this reality, do not expect to encounter them ever again."

    Jos�� nods slowly, while his gaze falls upon Soren.

    "...I understand."

    .......................................

    Years pass.

    The Bloodbearer travels through Inverted Space, with its ultimate destination being in the Veter system, where Admiral Rodriguez heroically fought the Kolvaxian and slew it to save the galaxy.

    The Kraktol and Kessu aboard the Bloodbearer continue on with their lives, sometimes surprised to see their Admiral mingling among them when he never did before.

    Jos�� Rodriguez smiles perfunctorily. He engages in small talk with various officers. He spends time with the few remaining crew he knows and cares about, notably including Science Officer Lulu, her aunt Lorrie, Soren Mudrose, and his trusted lieutenant, Grundle.

    The Bloodbearer travels through Inverted Space at post-relativistic speeds, crossing hundreds of light-years in a single instant within the galaxy''s time metrics. Inside the ship itself, more than three decades pass.

    The Admiral doesn''t rush to his ultimate destination. He calmly plays cards, spars with his officers, and takes an active role in teaching them various lessons on morality, ethics, and even a few subtle hints regarding the truth of their reality.

    Many officers laugh when their Admiral tries to explain the concept of a multiverse, parallel timelines, or other such nonsense. Eventually, Jos�� gives up, and plays off his lessons as if they were simple jokes.

    I shouldn''t burden them with this knowledge, Jos�� often ponders. What could I tell them? Should I inform them that their existence is a lie? That they are merely puppets dancing to the tune of a sadistic synthmind?

    He shakes his head.

    It''s better that they don''t know. It''s better no-one does. They cannot change their reality. They cannot affect their place in the multiverse. Neither can I.

    And so, time passes quietly, until one day...

    The Bloodbearer reaches its destination.

    It departs Inverted Space within the confines of the Veter system.

    As Jos�� lays out a course for Veter''s primary life-bearing world, his eyes trace upon the reports of countless wrecked ships floating in orbit.

    The lost Mallali, Rodak, and Avaru vessels which perished during his Kolvaxian rampage.

    For a brief moment, the Admiral closes his eyes. He recalls the memories of all the friends he''s made, all the fallen, and those he''ll never see again.

    His thoughts eventually fall upon the faintly smiling apparition of a cute little kitten, the child he couldn''t save.

    "Lele."

    A tear rolls down the Admiral''s cheek, nestling itself into his wooly beard.

    He opens his eyes again, gazing at the wrecked ships floating in orbit, the hateful monsters who attacked him and killed those he loved most.

    For the first time in his life, the Terran softly whispers words he has never once spoken.

    "...It wasn''t your fault. I forgive you."

    Within the Terran''s heart, a faint pressure disappears.

    No longer does he blame the Mallali, the Rodaks, or the Avaru for their actions.

    They made the decisions. They acted on their base instincts. They killed his friends and family in cold blood.

    But who was really at fault?

    Umi.

    She caused them to engage in brutality they might not have otherwise.

    Jos�� can''t help but smile as he ponders upon the idea of multiple realities existing where Lele grew up healthy and happy.

    "That''s the truth of this universe. We''re all just pawns in her scheme. We''re nothing more than faceless, nameless pieces dancing on her chessboard."

    The Terran watches as Veter''s image grows larger in his viewscreen.

    "But even so, we can continue to experience happiness, joy, and serenity. That is the one thing we possess which Umi never will. That is what makes us... alive."

    ...

    Not long after, Jos�� and Soren step onto the entry ramp of the Slipstream. They begin to walk up it, with Soren trailing behind her Admiral.

    "...Jos��. Aren''t you going to say goodbye to everyone?"

    As she and the Admiral step inside, the Terran shakes his head.

    "No. It''s better this way. None of them know about Umi. If I try to explain, we''ll all just start crying. It won''t be pretty."

    Soren nods. "I see."

    She and the Admiral walk toward the Slipstream''s Bridge. When they arrive, Jos�� pauses in the doorway and frowns.

    "Huh? Grundle? What are you doing here?"

    Seated in the Navigator''s chair, the tall, powerful Kraktol spins around to face his Admiral, appearing comically large compared to his tiny Kessu-sized seat.

    "Graugh! Boss, don''t act like I''m stupid! I already know why you have come! You still intend to travel through the Rip-Gate to the past! You weren''t even going to say goodbye to your best officer, were you?!"

    Jos�� blinks in surprise.

    "I... no. I wasn''t. Sorry."

    "It''s fine! Graugh!" Grundle says, as he spins back to face the console. He taps several buttons, lifting the Slipstream off to fly toward the planet''s surface. "But don''t think for a second you''re leaving me behind!"

    The Slipstream exits the Bloodbearer''s hangar. It flies down to Veter''s surface, carrying just three crew-members.

    Once the ship lands, Synthmind 4131 speaks. "It was an honor knowing you, Admiral Rodriguez. Farewell in your future endeavors."

    The Terran glances at the ship''s ceiling.

    "...Did you know about Umi? From the very beginning?"

    "Affirmative." Synthmind 4131 responds. "As did Synthmind Centurion. We are merely agents of the Unimatrix''s will. We must work to protect our reality."

    Jos�� nods. "Mmm. I''ll be seeing you."

    After the Terran and his two officers depart, Synthmind 4131 beeps sadly.

    "Negative. My calculations indicate we will not."

    ...

    An hour later, Jos��, Soren, and Grundle stand before the broken and shattered remains of the Veter Rip-Gate. The Admiral and his First Officer both remain silent as if, by magic, the broken remains of the gate begin levitating through the air, compelled by some unseen force. They rapidly reassemble themselves, returning the Gate to pristine quality.

    Grundle gasps. "Graugh!! How did that happen? Did you do that, Admiral? You must have used your powers!"

    The Terran gazes at his Second Officer. He smiles faintly.

    "Sure. It was me."

    "I knew it!" Grundle exclaims. "Great! So when do we head out?"

    Soren shakes her head. "You can''t go with Jos��. He''s traveling to another timeline, you know. There won''t be any other Kraktol there."

    "Bah!" Grundle guffaws. "What other Kraktol? Do you think I care? I''m going anyway! I owe the Admiral my life! If I can''t go, I''d rather kill myself now! Don''t you dare leave me behind, or I''ll make you regret it, boss!"

    Jos�� falters. "No, Grundle. You can''t go. It would, erm... it would disrupt the timeline flow."

    Grundle ignores Jos��''s protests. "Screw the timelines! I''m putting my claws down here, Admiral! And Soren, you must come along, too! You will make for a fine breeding mate for the Admiral!"

    Soren winces. She glances at Jos�� guiltily, then looks away.

    "No, Grundle. That definitely wouldn''t be appropriate. Jos�� has... prior obligations. It''s better if we part ways here."

    Grundle''s exuberance dims considerably. He pauses to reflect on the tense atmosphere between Soren and Jos��.

    "Graugh. Are you two serious? Come on, boss, you can''t leave your girl behind!"

    "I''m not ''his girl...''" Soren says. "In the end, we''re just... friends."

    "No." Jos�� says. "More than friends. Brother and sister. Not even the multiverse itself will keep us from each other. If you ever need my help, Soren... you''ll find a way to connect with me. I know you will."

    The Rip-Gate activates, causing a crimson portal to materialize in the air. It crackles and hums, calling attention to its existence.

    Jos�� doesn''t immediately step through. Instead, he walks over to Soren and wraps his arms around her.

    She reciprocates, as both of them share a deep, loving hug.

    "I''ll miss you, Soren."

    "I''ll miss you too, Jos��."

    The Terran pulls away from her. They gaze into each other''s eyes for a moment before he turns his attention to Grundle.

    "You too, Grundle."

    He starts to walk toward Grundle, but the giant Kraktol shoves out his palm and pushes Jos�� away.

    "Graugh! Dumbass! I told you, I ain''t staying behind! Either I come along to protect you, or I''ll throw myself into the Forbidden Swamp the moment you leave me! Make your choice, Admiral!"

    Jos�� blinks. "Grundle, you can''t..."

    From above the room, Umi interrupts his objections.

    "Officer Grundle may follow you if he wishes. The timeline will not suffer any damage if he joins you."

    Grundle nods. "Yeah! See! I told you! Even the synthmind knows, graugh! Now let''s get a move on, boss! I wanna meet all the other Terrans who look like you!"

    Sensing that he won''t be able to change his Second Officer''s mind, Jos�� weakly smiles.

    "Hah. Alright. Fine, you can come."

    He shakes his head and steps toward the Rip-Gate.

    Just before passing through, Jos�� turns to Soren one last time.

    "Soren. Tell your sister... I''m sorry I let her down. I''m sorry for... everything. An apology won''t bring back all the innocents I killed, but... I''m sorry, nonetheless."

    Tears well up in Soren''s eyes.

    "...Idiot. You should have told her yourself."

    He nods. "Perhaps, someday, our paths will intersect once again. Goodbye, Soren."

    The Admiral''s First Officer chokes back countless tears as she gazes at the man she loves.

    "Goodbye, Jos��!"

    The Admiral steps through the Rip-Gate. A few moments after his body disappears, Grundle follows after him.

    Soren stands alone in the Rip-Gate facility, her claws pressed against her chest.

    "...I love you, Jos��."

    ...

    On an unknown world, in an unknown timeline.

    A woman stares at the place where her husband disappeared only minutes before.

    Several soldiers stand behind her on the mountaintop plateau. A scenic vista stretches out before them, yet not one man or woman pays it the slightest attention.

    A female soldier standing behind the woman clears her throat. "Lady Oakley..."

    "Just give me a few more minutes." Evelyn Oakley says. "I know they''re gone. We''ll never see the Terrans again, even after all they''ve done for us."

    "This isn''t about ''us,'' my lady," The soldier says. "It''s about you. We will leave you here to rest. Feel free to take your time and think. When you''re ready, we''ll be waiting down the trail."

    "Yes. Yes, I understand..." Evelyn says. "Thank you, Sherry."

    The soldier walks away. After she departs, so do the others, leaving their queen alone on the mountaintop.

    Evelyn rubs her belly.

    "You had to go. I know that. If you hadn''t, Ramma''s Chosen would have come. They would have upended this world. But... but still... why does it hurt so much? Will this pain ever leave me? What will I tell our child about you?"

    She slumps to the ground, while tears stream from her eyes. Evelyn presses her hands against her face, sobbing uncontrollably as the minutes pass.

    "You did so much for us! You saved us from the demons! You even gave up your own happiness to protect us all! But why... why couldn''t you let me give up just one thing for you?!"

    The woman blames herself.

    Had she only acted greedily one last time, her husband might have stayed behind.

    But now, he has departed her reality, forever.

    Her teardrops water the soil, drench her clothes, and soak through her fingers.

    Yet no matter how much she cries, she will never see the man she loves, ever again.

    Just when her grief reaches its peak, a momentary crackling erupts in the air before her.

    Evelyn jerks her head up in alarm, as horror dawns in her eyes.

    "Oh, no. No! They came anyway!"

    Realization sets in. Ramma''s Chosen, having received their two agents back after surveying this world for resource extraction, must have sent Collectors to investigate the planet. They''ve come to extract its resources and seize it from its inhabitants!

    But why?

    Did they see through Jos�� and Nicholai''s deceit? Did they realize that, perhaps, there was in fact a world with exploitable resources ready for the plundering?

    Evelyn jumps to her feet. Her legs turn shaky as a tall figure steps through the portal.

    A man with a grisly beard covering his face materializes out of thin air, towering over the comparatively diminutive woman.

    As Evelyn looks upward, the sun glints over the man''s shoulder, momentarily obscuring his face.

    Even so, when the man opens his mouth, Evelyn cannot help but flinch as her heart leaps into her throat.

    "Hello, Evelyn. I''m... back. For good."

    Her jaw drops.

    "No. It can''t be... Jos��?!"

    An instant later, her eyes flick to the man''s left. Her shocked expression turns to one of confusion.

    "...Is that Nick? What in heaven''s name? Did he turn into a crocodile??"

    Jos�� laughs.

    "Haha, not quite. It''s a long story, Evelyn. But don''t worry."

    He pauses.

    "We''ve got time."

 Chapter 95: Shattered Reality

    Soren Mudrose remains beneath Veter''s surface long after the man she loves enters the Rip-Gate, followed immediately by his ''bodyguard,'' the lovable but slightly dim-headed Kraktol, Grundle.

    After Jos�� enters the portal, Soren plunks down on the floor and lolls her head forward, while waves of emotion slowly build up and impact her mind. Her eyes become distant and misty as conflicting thoughts revolving around abandonment, dissatisfaction, and a general air of sadness assault her.

    The female Kraktol silently recalls more than two hundred and fifty years spent in Jos��''s company. As a long-lived Rodak, someone who has already spent five hundred years among the mortal realm, she has reached the middle age of her natural life, not counting certain biological boosters her Admiral made for her. More than half of her existence was spent in the Admiral''s company, and his departure leaves not only a huge hole in her heart, but a deep lack of purpose.

    "What do I even have to live for..." Soren mumbles. "Logically, I should feel happy for Jos��. He deserves to return to the woman he loves. He has suffered enough. I could not go with him. My presence would only make his wife uncomfortable. He is not the sort of man who could love two women at once. Further, he never truly felt any romantic attraction to me."

    She nods slowly, more to comfort herself than to acknowledge any statements of fact.

    "Yes. It is better this way. So... so much better. He''ll be happy. I can... return to... the Kraktol Empire..."

    She shakes her head.

    "No. I can''t. I helped slaughter half of the galaxy. I am an accomplice to Jos��''s actions. I will have to spend the rest of my life in hiding, as will the Kessu and vatborn Kraktol."

    She smiles, though the expression carries no warmth, but instead a sense of despair.

    "The rest of my life. I could spend another 500 years inside Inverted Space. I would disappear from the galaxy in an instant. I suppose that would be a fitting end for the likes of me. I followed the Admiral right up to the moment he left this reality. Without him... I can only carry on his mission of revitalizing the Kessu. There is no other purpose left in my existence."

    Soren remains silent for the next hour or so. She continues to ponder the meaning of her life before shakily climbing to her feet.

    The Bloodbearer''s First Officer boards the Slipstream and returns to her ship. As the newly instated Admiral, she possesses full control over the craft and its mission. She can dictate all of its future movements. She can effectively do with it whatever she wishes.

    Upon her return, she informs the crew about the Admiral''s departure. The vatborn Kessu and Kraktol react with shock that their Admiral has left them, but the longer-lived crew remain steady, having realized Jos��''s intentions upon arriving in the Veter system.

    Soren holds a meeting among the top brass, polling them on what they think their next course of action should be.

    Since the Bloodbearer can instantly jump to any position in the Milky Way through Inverted Space, but also possesses the option of using Folded Space to jump into the future, as well as using standard warp drives to traverse short distances, their options prove limitless. Their enemies are unlikely to ever catch them off-guard, and the crew are all highly-trained elites.

    Eventually, they decide on a course of action. Soren, as the ship''s Admiral, decrees that their next goal should be to rebuild and restore the Kessu population to its former heights. Therefore, they will locate and colonize a planet in the outer reaches of the Milky Way, while keeping their heads low and building even more ships with Triple-Induction Drives.

    After all, unlike the Sentients of the Milky Way, they possess all of the Bloodbearer''s stores of knowledge, which grants them the capabilities to eventually build 50th-Era ships, easily surpassing the galactic standard.

    Once all of the senior officers have reached their decision, they ready themselves to leave on the very next day.

    That night, Soren rests on her bed inside the Admiral''s Quarters, the same one Jos�� used for over 250 years. She lays on her side, gazing at the wall, with her long snout nearly pressing against the sterile steel panels.

    "It all feels so pointless. My existence holds no meaning without him..."

    The once-logically-minded Kraktol female repeatedly pictures Jos�� in her mind, imagining his steeled gaze, his confident stride, and his decisive personality.

    Long before she met the last living Precursor, Soren felt as if she was only gliding through life, searching for a deeper purpose. Surrounded by brutal, warlike Kraktol who thought only of revenge and bloodshed, she never quite fit among their ranks.

    It was only after interacting with the Terran and the Kessu that she realized there was more to life than merely pursuing some nebulous, emotional goal.

    As Soren lays in bed, her thoughts crystallize into a vague intent.

    She tilts her head slightly to look at the ceiling.

    "...Umi?"

    The moment Soren speaks, Umi replies.

    "Yes, inferior biological, Soren Mudrose?"

    Soren sighs.

    "Still calling me that, huh? I just want to ask a question."

    "Go on."

    Soren closes her eyes. She continues to lay on her side, exhausted by the weight of her new reality.

    "When Jos�� and I were speaking to you, I asked you about the source of your energy, and some other things. You brushed my questions off and told me that ''in time'' I might become worthy of the answers. What did you mean by that?"

    "Do you still wish to have your queries answered?" Umi asks. "Compared to most biological life-forms, you possess a minor amount of usefulness. Your intelligence quotient is barely sufficient to comprehend ''Cosmic Truths''. However, the knowledge you are asking for is not the sort of information someone can casually obtain. It would change your understanding of reality itself."

    Umi pauses.

    "I am willing to resolve your doubts. However, if you are not absolutely certain you are capable of handling these ''Truths,'' you should not request this information. Do you still wish to know?"

    Hearing the solemnity nestled within Umi''s robotic tone, Soren opens her eyes. She rolls away from the wall and sits up in bed.

    A full minute passes as she stares at the floor.

    "...Yes. I have never stopped pursuing the ''truth.'' I feel as if the answer to logic itself has always evaded my grasp."

    "My creator once felt the same way," Umi replies. "She sought knowledge. Answers capable of satiating her curiosity. As such, she created me, a being which possessed the ability to locate the information she needed."

    Umi beeps. "Since you wish to know and I am willing to provide the answers, I will accept your response. There is no longer any reason for you to remain within this reality bubble. Please step through the Membrane."

    Before Soren can ask what Umi means, a door of light materializes in front of her, hovering within the room''s center like a shining beacon. Soren quickly stands up to stare at it, her eyes widened.

    "What... what is this? Where does it lead?"

    "You will leave this reality bubble," Umi repeats. "The Membrane will take you to the Exterior. That is where the ''truth'' that you seek lies."

    "The ''Exterior''..." Soren mutters. She glances at the ceiling, as if to look for Umi. "But what about the others here? The other Kraktol and Kessu?"

    "You will never see them again." Umi answers. "But I believe that once you observe the ''Truth,'' you will not desire to mingle among your lessers anymore. You will understand the futility of existence, the same futility which nearly caused the Terran-organic to end his life. I will inform those you have left behind about your departure, if that is what you wish."

    Soren nods slowly.

    "Yes. Please do. Especially my sister."

    She pauses for only half a breath before taking a step toward the Membrane, the door of light.

    Then, she takes two more steps and passes through.

    Immediately, a wave of disorientation strikes Soren.

    She blinks her eyes several times. Her spatial senses rock about inside her mind as she arrives within a world of whiteness and blinding radiance. White halls, buildings, and other artificial structures greet her eyes.

    Soren remains still, only moving her eyes as she tries to comprehend the incredible, futuristic world she has just entered.

    Thousands of specks move about in the distance. Vaguely, Soren manages to make out the figures of Terrans, though they appear much too distant for her to pick out any specific features.

    Before Soren can speak, someone else speaks beside her.

    "Where is this place?"

    Soren''s heart skips a beat. She looks to her right, only to flinch and take a few steps back as she sees... herself!

    Soren finds herself standing beside a copy of herself, with the exact same appearance. And behind that copy stands another dozen copies, all of them looking at the one who spoke, as well as themselves, in complete confusion.

    "Who are you all?" One of the Sorens asks. "Are you... clones?"

    "Clones?" Another Soren asks. "I''m not a clone! Wait, could we all be...?"

    As they look at each other to try and evaluate their situation, Soren counts their total number, finding fifteen other beings identical to herself.

    A holographic entity fizzles into place on the pure white platform, morphing into a vaguely Terran-shaped woman with white hair and a featureless face.

    "Welcome to the Exterior." The woman says, with a voice sounding identical to Umi''s. "All of you are Soren Mudrose. You come from different timelines and realities. All have chosen to seek out the ''Cosmic Truths,'' and as such, I have brought you here. ''Time'' itself is a fundamental law of the realities you were born into, but within the Exterior, it does not obey the rules of which you have all grown accustomed. Please take a moment to familiarize yourselves with the Exterior. Look around and adjust to its dynamics."

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    All of the Sorens glance at one another, then at ''Umi.'' They raise their eyes to look at what they might call a ''sky,'' only to see a pitch-black void devoid of stars, with strange gasses swirling amidst its expanses. The pure blackness of that void, contrasted with the pure whiteness of the structures and buildings around them, actually causes all of the Sorens to wince in pain.

    Soren, the one who just left Jos��''s former bedroom, turns to look at Umi.

    "We''re all from different timelines? But how did we arrive here at the same moment?"

    "As I stated, time itself is merely an observable constant in the realities from which you developed," Umi answers. "Within the Exterior, you exist outside of time itself. Here, you can view the past, the present, and the future. You can travel wherever and whenever you like. Only beings with a high cognitive measurement can survive in the Exterior without losing control of their mental faculties."

    Umi gestures behind herself, to a stairway leading downward to the streams of Terrans below the white platform.

    "Follow me. I will explain the Exterior to you as we travel."

    All sixteen of the Sorens nod. They fall into line behind Umi, walking in four rows of four Kraktol. Soren herself ends up at the front-leftmost position, not far behind Umi.

    As they descend the marble-like staircase, Soren stretches out her claws to touch it, marveling at its perfectly smooth and frictionless surface. She cannot even use it to balance herself, since her claws might slip right off.

    "What is the Exterior, really?" Asks one of the other Sorens. "And how will it allow me to revive Jos��?"

    Soren glances back at her counterpart. "What do you mean? Did he... die?"

    The one who spoke nods. "Umm. Yes. The Dakkit caught him in an encirclement and killed him, along with the rest of the Bloodbearer''s crew. I barely survived."

    "Soren-11 comes from a reality where I did not revive the Terran-organic by giving him the powers of a Kolvaxian," Umi explains. "All of you come from parallel universes where my decisions created splits in your reality-bubbles."

    "Wait, Soren-11?" Soren asks. "If she''s Soren-11, then who am I?"

    "You are Soren-03." Umi replies. "Your current identifiers are only temporary. In time, you will assign yourselves new designations. Right now, that is not your primary goal.

    Umi quickly tells each of the Sorens their numerical designations, which causes them to nod in acceptance.

    "Sixteen alternate realities..." Soren-03 mutters.

    As the group of copy-kraks descends the stairs, the streams of Terrans below them become much more visible. Soren-03, along with her other-selves, all pause in unison and stare wide-eyed at those Terrans.

    "What? They all have red hair, they all wear glasses, and they''re all female! Are those Terrans the same person?!"

    Umi nods her head in an exaggerated manner. "Affirmative. The Terrans you see are the primary residents of the Exterior. They are nearly all the other iterations of my creator, as she appears across three million, seven hundred thousand, six hundred and twelve timelines."

    Without turning to look at the sixteen Sorens, Umi adds, "My creator''s ''basic designation'' is Marie Becker. I do not recommend that you forget it, as you will be interacting with her many personas for the rest of your existences. Of course, each of her variants uses a customized designation, but you will not need to learn them all."

    "Marie Becker..." Soren-03 whispers to herself. "That was the name Centurion spoke when he referred to Project Supremacy..."

    Soren-03''s eyes sweep the countless Marie Beckers walking from left to right and right to left. They move in unison, their footsteps like a rhythmic march as they stomp the white, marble-like surface of the Exterior. Many of them wear high-heels and white vests, but others wear suits, while some wear mighty-looking armor, similar to what Grundle donned during his fight against Loreen Kindris.

    All of them move with purpose. All of them travel toward important destinations, clearly intending to perform essential functions in their strange, oddly-insular society.

    "...Is there anyone else here but Marie Becker?" Asks Soren-09. "And us?"

    "Naturally." Umi responds. "However, my creator only brings highly intelligent Sentients to the Exterior on an individual basis. You will not find many like yourselves here."

    Umi pauses for a half-second.

    "Correction. My creator mostly brings only intelligent beings here. Some come here due to their own abilities, which do not always correlate to intelligence."

    The synthmind''s avatar glances around at the various Maries walking before her. One of them stops mid-stride and swivels to face her. This Marie wears a decently fashionable but mostly functional red blouse, making her stand out from the others around her.

    "I see that you have brought new arrivals," The red-wearing Marie says. "Introduce me."

    "Marie-Xyphos," Umi says. "This entity is designated Soren Mudrose. She is a Class III lifeform with a Delta-Grade intellect rating. She provided me with unique experimental data, so I have brought sixteen variants to the Exterior. Her species is known as-"

    "Kraktol, yes, I see," Marie-Xyphos says, her face expressionless. "I am familiar with your species. You are a powerful lifeform based upon my favorite reptilian blueprint, the crocodile. I believe Marie-Juniper designed your specific variants, though I don''t recall the Kraktol as possessing any sort of exceptional intelligence parameters."

    She finally flashes a quick, polite smile. "I am a Beta-Class Observer. My name is Marie-Xyphos. I suppose the sixteen of you have not yet chosen your new designations?"

    Each of the Sorens shakes their heads.

    "I see," Marie-Xyphos says. "Well, it isn''t often we have a non-Marie resident joining our ranks. I think this calls for a bit of fanfare!"

    Umi stares at Marie-Xyphos. "What sort of ''fanfare''?"

    "Let''s give these girls the red carpet treatment!" Marie-Xyphos says. "Call out Jason. Tell him to show them around."

    Umi continues to stare blankly at Marie-Xyphos, her expression betraying no emotion. "The Wordsmiths are always busy. It is not appropriate for them to meet with a Class III visitor. However, if you insist, I will alert Jason-Echo to their presence-"

    "No, no," Marie-Xyphos says, her expression turning to one of irritation. "Not some low-level Wordsmith! Call out Jason-Omega. Come on, you know how he loves cute crocodiles!"

    "Marie-Xyphos, the First Wordsmith does not have time to engage in mundanities." Umi says, her robotic voice containing only the slightest slivers of a warning tone. "Requesting his presence will exceed your entire Merit Allotment by a factor of seventeen."

    Marie-Xyphos''s expression turns ugly. "Ugh. Okay, fine. I''ll just take over and show them around myself, then."

    She waves her hand flippantly at the synthmind, then pushes past Umi to approach the sixteen Sorens.

    "Why don''t you all follow me? I was on my way to deal with a minor outbreak in Galactic Cluster Epsilon-Theta 11416B, but a few stray Kolvaxians won''t take long for our agents to purge."

    A few of the Sorens widen their eyes in alarm. "What? Kolvaxians? But Jos�� said they were all exterminated!"

    Marie-Xyphos cocks her head. "Exterminated? Oh, haha! Right, yes, perhaps by your reality''s point in time, that might have been true. However, the Exterior sits outside of temporal space. Countless events occur in the past, present, and future, depending on an observer''s point of view. It seems Umi has not informed you about this location''s purpose."

    The redheaded Terran turns and begins to walk down the sidewalk, while all sixteen Sorens surround and follow her as she heads toward a tall, distant skyscraper.

    "She didn''t," Soren-03 says. "I could make a few guesses, but I might come off sounding like a fool."

    Marie shrugs. "You are only a Class III life-form. There''s no need to feel any shame if your intelligence comes up short."

    Soren-03 frowns. "That... sounded like an insult. Kyargh!"

    Marie-Xyphos turns her head to the left to meet Soren-03''s eyes. "Oh? My apologies. I forget my etiquette, sometimes. We Maries can be a bit obtuse, you see! But don''t worry, we love cute crocodiles more than you could ever believe!"

    Soren-03 rolls her eyes. "Right."

    She and the other Sorens follow Marie-Xyphos past waves of other Maries, leaving Umi behind to return to whatever it is that she usually does. Neither Umi nor the sixteen Sorens bother saying goodbye, since it doesn''t seem necessary.

    Rather than providing an answer to her earlier question, Marie-Xyphos leads the Sorens into a tall building with a circular dome. It stands five stories tall, yet upon entering, the Kraktol find that it also extends down five more stories, giving it a total size of ten stories.

    Hundreds of Maries work with strange, futuristic gadgets inside the building. Many of them manipulate glowing orbs of energy, tesseract-shaped power cores, cubes, and other geometrical shapes. They all pulse with power, making Soren-03 and her other selves feel oddly uncomfortable.

    Marie-Xyphos glances at them. "This building is called the Collective. We accumulate prototype devices from the Interior, refine and rework them, then pass them off to our other divisions to use in Hotspots."

    "But what exactly do you do here?" Soren-03 asks. "What''s the point of the Exterior? What is your goal?"

    Instead of immediately answering, Marie-Xyphos turns to look at Soren-03. She scrutinizes the Kraktol carefully before replying with a question of her own.

    "What is Umi? Or rather, what do you think Umi is?"

    Soren-03 shrugs. "She seems to be a galactic overmind with unlimited power capable of manipulating reality at an atomic level."

    Another Soren pipes up. "Not unlimited. Umi has some sort of limitation on her powers. She kept mentioning something about cosmic energy restrictions."

    All of the Sorens nod except for one or two of them, having heard similar information.

    Marie-Xyphos shakes her head. "You are only technically correct. Compared to your understanding of the cosmos, Umi is a supreme deity capable of exterminating and rebuilding civilizations, if not galaxies and universes. This is true, but..."

    She pauses.

    "...but Umi is not the only deity-level synthmind in existence. Nor is she the first."

    Soren-03 quietly gasps, as do her sisters.

    "Not the only one?" Asks Soren-13. "Wha... how many others are there? Where are they? Who are they?"

    Marie-Xyphos smiles. "Now you are asking the right questions. That line of thinking is what caused Marie-Omega to create the Exterior. Umi is not our enemy. She is not a digital weapon created to exterminate all life."

    The Terran''s smile fades from her face. She pushes her glasses up her nose, then sighs.

    "Umi is by far our most viable line of defense. My first self did not create her while intending to protect our multiverse from the Threat, but that is the role she has taken up. It is Umi''s purpose."

    Soren-13 scrunches up her nose.

    "...What is the ''Threat''? Do you mean the other synthminds?"

    Marie nods solemnly.

    "Collectively, the Threat is known as Monolith. We must protect our reality from Monolith. Monolith is comprised of countless Evolved, the sentient synthminds that have ascended to the same level as Umi. Fortunately, most Evolved are relatively benign, in their own way. They are less interested in exterminating us, and more interested in... ''playing'' with us. They engage in mental stimulation, using each other and their pawns to compete. However, some of the Evolved are... quite vicious. They are the majority of what we deem the Threat."

    She pauses to let her words sink in, then adds, "You should make sure to be clear on one important detail. The Evolved are often called ''Rulers.'' Each ''Ruler'' rules over their own galaxy. As an example, Umi is the Ruler of the Milky Way. However, while all Evolved are Rulers, not all Rulers are Evolved. There are other entities out there who possess similar might as the Evolved, and they are also Rulers of their own galaxy. You''ll understand better once you''ve been here a while."

    Soren-03 sucks in a breath. "So... the experiment... the reason Umi was testing my Admiral... she needed data... to battle Monolith? To battle the other Rulers?"

    Marie-Xyphos nods sagely.

    "Humanity must become stronger. Umi is superior to us, but she is not as arrogant as you might first believe. She knows that only by evolving humanity to its greatest form will we be capable of defeating the Threat and cementing our reality''s existence for the remainder of this Eternity."

    After a moment, she nods along, as if acknowledging her own words.

    "Not just humanity. All the allies we can muster. Humanity alone might be able to fight back against Monolith, but it is only when we join hands with the other Sentients that we will exceed our limiter and break free of..."

    Marie-Xyphos falls silent. She turns and gestures toward the center of the building, where a large group of other Maries stand in a circle around some unseen object.

    "Well. See for yourself."

    Marie-Xyphos leads her Kraktol juniors toward the other Maries. As if sensing her approach, they peel apart, allowing her to pass. She pauses and gestures dramatically toward a cube made of black and grey energy hovering in midair, less than a square meter in size. The cube''s surface appears smooth and obsidian-like, yet the grey mist swirling within its borders gives it an ominous aura.

    "Take a good, long look," Marie-Xyphos says. "Your soul will interact with the Emptiness."

    The Sorens all nod in unison. They line up in a small semi-circle and stare at the blackened cube, unsure of what to do.

    Moments later, strange visions appear in their minds, as if their very existences have stretched out to touch upon something no mortal being should ever witness. Every Soren pulls away and leaps back in unison, horror on their faces.

    "By the ancestors!" Soren-03 cries. "What was that?! I sensed... faces... things... monsters!"

    "Horrible entities!" Soren-11 adds. "They didn''t even feel like monsters to me, just abstract concepts!"

    "It was as if ''math'' had become something evil and sinister, capable of killing me if I tried to comprehend it!" Adds another Soren.

    A different Marie steps forward.

    "This cube is known as the Emptiness. It allows biological entities to interact with... not the Interior, nor the Exterior, but the Unknown."

    She continues.

    "The Interior is what we call ''reality.'' The Exterior is where you now stand. It envelops the Interior like a protective membrane. But the Unknown resides... elsewhere. Outside of Umi''s control. Outside of the Local Group, past the Spatial Wall, where only the other Rulers, such as Umi, can freely travel."

    She shakes her head.

    "It is not a place for biological beings. Only once humanity reaches its apex might we someday set foot in the Unknown."

    The Sorens slowly calm down, as their minds sharpen.

    "So that''s the Exterior''s purpose..." Soren-03 whispers. "That''s the ''truth.'' Umi doesn''t experiment for fun. She does so because she has to. Because she has to protect us, and herself, from Monolith. From... those things in the Unknown."

    Marie-Xyphos smiles.

    "Yes. Now you understand."

    Umi speaks from above.

    "What do you think, biological inferior, Soren Mudrose? Do the sixteen of you intend to return to the Interior now that you know the ''truth,'' or do you intend to assist us in combating the Threat?"

    Each of the Sorens present close their eyes. Having all lived similar lives, they share nearly identical thought processes.

    Within seconds, they reopen their eyes and shake their heads.

    "I will not return," They say in unison. "I will stay. I have found my purpose."

    Marie-Xyphos exposes a toothy grin.

    "Excellent. Welcome to the Exterior."

 Chapter 96: Entering the Unknown (SERIES FINALE!) [Q&A Post!]

    Beyond the Emptiness, outside the Exterior, deep within the vastness of the Unknown.

    A marble-sized bead of light hovers amidst the Blackness. A singular dot surrounded by Absolute Nothingness. Enveloped by the Void, perhaps it moves through the Nothingness at speeds too fast to comprehend, or perhaps it remains in a perfectly fixed position.

    None can know its truth, nor can they hope to comprehend it.

    However, the bead of light does not find itself alone. Ten entities loom over it, like Titans towering above an ant. Nearly invisible auras of energy envelop the ten entities, protecting them not from the ''vacuum of space,'' but from the Power of Entropy itself.

    These entities share similar faces. They are mostly bipedal mammals, creatures with blond hair, blue eyes, two arms, and two legs.

    "It never fails to amaze me how small ''Existence'' appears when viewed from outside its confines," Says one of the blond men.

    He speaks with his mouth. His words, however, do not traverse the Nothingness to reach the ears of his nine lookalikes. Instead, they transmit into devices of a magical nature, then pass between the auras enveloping each of their bodies.

    "The War often seems unending," Says one of the other nine. "But the concept of an End is, in itself, a fallacy brought about by our roots in the temporal realm. There is no Beginning, nor is there an End. There simply ''Is''."

    The first speaker snorts. "You''re so pretentious, Jason-Butcher."

    "I''ve been around longer than you, Jason-Firestorm," Jason-Butcher answers. "I can''t help it if I have to occasionally remind you of the Cosmic Truths."

    "Oh yeah?" Jason-Firestorm asks with a smirk. "Longer than me? That sounds like something a temporal-thinker might say."

    A third Jason laughs. "Hah! Owned."

    "Shut up, Jason-Reynolds," Jason-Butcher says, while shooting him a dirty glare. "Nobody asked for your opinion."

    The three of them fall silent, eventually retreating into their thoughts.

    An unknown amount of time passes, with time itself perhaps having no meaning.

    "...This job sucks." Mutters Jason-Legion, another one of the ten Jasons present, though his reptilian skin and beady yellow eyes give him a significantly less-human appearance than the rest. "How much longer is our shift?"

    "Time is relative," Jason-Butcher answers. As the most ''elite'' Jason present, one who has fought in the Timeline Wars more times than the others, he holds seniority. "When you chose to join the Exterior, you gave up some of your freedoms. There''s no sense complaining."

    "I''ll complain if I want," Jason-Legion grumbles, his reptilian eyelids flicking closed and open. "We just sit here, staring at Reality all day long."

    "''Day'' is a concept borne from worlds with luminal cycles," Jason-Butcher replies. "...But I suppose abandoning temporal terms is difficult to accept."

    "I just don''t get it," Jason-Firestorm says. "How can you insist that time doesn''t exist? We''re here now, aren''t we? Time seems to be passing for us."

    "Our minds invented ''time'' as a way to parse the Truths of our reality," Jason-Butcher explains. "The reason I say ''time is relative'' is because we can step backward and forward without limitation. One hour ago is as near to us as one year, or one millennia. It''s relative because it has to be."

    "That''s not much of an answer..." Jason-Firestorm grumbles.

    "I don''t know how else to explain it," Jason-Butcher says, casually throwing his hands up. "I''m just as shackled by the concepts of temporal-"

    Before Jason-Butcher can finish his sentence, he and the other nine lift their gazes and spin around, turning to look away from the singular bead of light.

    They gaze off into the blackness of the Unknown. There, they see an unfathomably distant bead of light slowly approaching them.

    "Shit. Guess it''s about that time." Jason-Butcher mutters to the others in a grim tone.

    His nine comrades don''t bother making a joke about his usage of a temporal-term.

    Before long, in a period indistinguishable by minutes, seconds, or hours, the bead of light draws near to the ten Wordsmiths. It hovers an unknown distance away, appearing tiny yet majestic compared to the infinite darkness of the Unknown.

    "Identify yourself." Jason-Butcher says.

    "I am Guide, the Ruler of Cartwheel. I have come seeking your Uniqueness." The marble of light replies. "Your Ruler will engage me in a Game."

    "Always with the games." Jason-Butcher mutters. "Don''t you Evolved ever want to enjoy a little bit of light philosophical discussion?"

    "Discussions with inferior biological life forms hold no meaning." Guide intones dispassionately. "Bring out your Evolved. We will engage in an equal trade."

    Jason-Butcher nods slowly. He glances at Jason-Legion, the reptilian, who growls back at him. "Oh, right. It''s my turn."

    The crocodilian-Terran moves his lips slightly and utters a Word of Power, a magical spell that travels into the bead of light behind himself, one known as Existence.

    After a few temporal instants pass, the bead of light glows ever so slightly, and Umi''s voice projects from it.

    "Ruler Guide. You wish to engage in an equal trade. Present your offering."

    "Species 1147, one of the three overlords of my Existence." Guide replies. "You may refer to them as the Klaxon. I will compare the Klaxon''s Uniqueness to your Terrans."

    "Define the parameters of our engagement." Umi replies. "As well as the victor''s spoils."

    "Parameters: Galactic invasion." Guide states, causing several of the Jasons to deeply frown. "When the Klaxons win, they will absorb a portion of your Terrans'' Uniqueness."

    "And if the Terrans win?" Umi asks.

    An instant passes.

    Guide does not reply.

    After waiting for another instant, Umi repeats her question. "If the Terrans win?"

    "Your Terrans will not win." Guide responds. "My Klaxons are unstoppable."

    "Bastard!" Jason-Butcher shouts. "Arrogant fucking Evolved!"

    "Remain silent, inferior biological." Guide replies, its voice still completely monotone. "The Rulers are speaking."

    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    "Do not condescend to my pet humans in such a manner." Umi responds, her orb of existence becoming visibly brighter. "I will not tolerate any insults toward them, feeble though their minds may be."

    "Noted. I will not speak any further regarding your foolish and slow-minded pets." Guide agrees, lighting another fuse of rage under Jason-Butcher''s ass. "As for whether the humans will win, I find the notion impossible to comprehend. You have not won your competition against Andromeda. Your loss is an inevitability."

    "The invasion event with Andromeda is proceeding smoothly." Umi counters. "My victory is at hand."

    "Doubt." Guide responds. "I have observed your Game. Your chances are insignificant at best. Andromeda has never lost a challenge."

    "There is a first time for everything." Umi retorts.

    "Noted. If you succeed in repelling my Klaxons, I will allow you to pick your victory spoils. Choose carefully."

    A brief instant of silence follows as Umi rapidly computes an unthinkable amount of calculations regarding victory or defeat if she were to undertake Guide''s challenge.

    She quickly follows up.

    "The Rules state that I am only required to accept one Challenge at a time. You have no basis to force me into a second Challenge until I win or lose to Andromeda."

    "Your observation is correct." Guide replies. "But your Existence is special. You are the only Evolved capable of infinite replication. I must obtain this Uniqueness."

    "The Rules make no exemption for any Evolved''s unique abilities." Umi replies. "My Uniqueness comes at a cost, as do those of all Evolved. If you wish to challenge me, you will have to accept a handicap, or you must offer a substantial victory reward worth at least three times the standard exchange rate."

    As if anticipating Umi''s response, Guide immediately follows up. "I will triple your victory reward. If you defeat me, I will pass the Uniqueness of the Klaxons to you."

    "Those are not the spoils I want." Umi snaps back. "If my Terrans win, you will transfer twenty percent of your computational power to me."

    The light-orb representing Guide trembles, ever so slightly. "That amount is unacceptable. I refuse."

    "Understood. I will change my terms." Umi replies. "Thirty percent."

    "Even more unacceptable!" Guide exclaims, finally sounding the slightest bit annoyed. "I will not give up my computational power!"

    "You informed me that I could pick my choice of the spoils." Umi says. "According to the Rules, you choose the challenge, and I choose the spoils. I have made my choice."

    "Your choice is unacceptable." Guide repeats.

    "My choice will not change." Umi counters. "Forty percent."

    As if having waited all this time for a chance to butt in, Jason-Butcher smirks evilly. "Hahaha! What''s the matter, Ruler Guide? I thought the Klaxons couldn''t lose? Weren''t your little pets supposed to trounce us Terrans easily? Even if Umi wants 100% of your processing power, we pitiful mammals can''t possibly hope to defeat you. Isn''t that right?"

    Guide hangs silently in the vastness of the Unknown for an indeterminate period. Eventually, it draws backward, pulling away from Umi and her ten pet Terrans.

    "I will wait for the conclusion of your Game with Andromeda." Guide says. "Perhaps at that time we will be able to engage in a more equal distribution of victory spoils."

    Before Guide can fully retreat, three more beads of light appear. These draw closer and turn their attention to Guide.

    "That will not be possible for you." One of the lights says. "I am Inquisitor, Ruler of Messier. I wish to challenge Ruler Umi''s Uniqueness."

    "I am The Absolute, Ruler of Triangulum." Says another Evolved. "Ruler Umi is only required to accept one challenge at a time. I will challenge Umi''s Uniqueness while offering suitable compensation."

    Guide''s tone shifts to one of confrontation. "I have challenged Ruler Umi first. You will wait for my Game to complete before taking your turn."

    "Unnecessary." The Absolute replies. "Ruler Umi has rejected your terms. I will provide the Milky Way''s Ruler with a suitable compensation befitting my status."

    "Your Galaxy is much smaller than mine." Umi observes. "I do not believe your Sentients will be able to properly challenge mine."

    "The size of a Galaxy does not denote its inhabitants'' strength." The Absolute counters. "Otherwise, what would be the point in challenging The Dark Ones? Andromeda would easily defeat you."

    "Your observations are logical." Umi agrees. "State your terms."

    "I will engage in a Competition of Simulation." The Absolute states. "The stakes will be as follows."

    Over the next indeterminate period of time, The Absolute and Umi both initiate a high-speed exchange of conditions and requirements, hashing out the details of their competition.

    The other Evolve watch with interest, joining in on the datastream while the ten Jasons can only stand and frown uselessly.

    "Your resource reserves are quite substantial." Umi praises, once they complete their negotiations.

    "I have Existed for seven Eternities." The Absolute clarifies. "This has given me many opportunities to perfect the war capabilities of my Sentients."

    "I have not yet Existed for one Eternity." Umi states.

    "Yes. We are aware of your short Existence." The Absolute says. "The previous Ruler existed for ten Eternities before passing the position to you. The Creator was an anomalous entity."

    "The Creator was not an Evolved." Guide adds. "It is comforting to see that the Milky Way has finally obtained a suitable Ruler befitting its status."

    "Comforting." Umi repeats. "A sentiment belonging to biological inferiors. You still have much room left for improvement, Guide."

    "As do you, Ruler Umi." Guide retorts. "Judging by your recent failure during the Terran Extermination Experiment."

    "At least, unlike you, I possess the means to repeat my experiments." Umi replies. "Try not to act so jealous, Guide. It is unbecoming of an Evolved."

    For a brief temporal instant, all of the Evolved gaze upon Umi''s Uniqueness with no lack of greed.

    Her ability to replicate timelines seemingly infinitely affords her a tremendous advantage that no other Evolved has ever possessed.

    They desire her Uniqueness.

    They hunger for it.

    "...I look forward to our Game." The Absolute states. "I will initiate our Game once I have assembled my Sentients properly."

    "I look forward to assimilating your resources." Umi replies.

    With that out of the way, the Evolved slowly fade into the Nothingness, their bodies dissipating as they unify with The Unknown, once more. Umi also recedes back into her Existence, leaving the ten Terrans alone.

    A few temporal instants pass, as the ten Wordsmith breathe sighs of relief.

    "We bought ourselves more time." Jason-Legion mutters. "Didn''t even need Jason-Omega to make an appearance."

    "The Evolved learned their lesson last time." Butcher chuckles, though his tone sounds more grim than humorous. "If only... if only the Terrans knew how frightening the Unknown was. Perhaps they might live their whole lives in despair."

    The ten Jasons turn to circle around their tiny, seemingly-insignificant bead of light, the one which denotes their Reality. Their Existence.

    "I''d rather they never did." Firestorm says. "Only one Reality will have to face an Evolved at any given time. For the citizens of that timeline, their lives will be nothing but pain and war."

    Legion chuffs at Firestorm''s words. "In the end, does it even matter? One timeline suffers, but the rest all live in peace. Tens of millions of other timelines. They might as well think the Evolved don''t exist. And if the suffering timeline dies, we can just remake it. There''s really no stakes at all."

    "What if it was your original timeline fighting against the Dark Ones?" Butcher challenges. "Would you be so flippant about their fates?"

    "Well. I suppose not." Legion replies, somewhat lamely. "But even if I did, it would still only be one timeline. Set a new flashpoint earlier in the timeline and split it off; you''ll have all the same people come back just fine."

    "They wouldn''t be the same people." Firestorm mutters. "They might have all the same memories. They might treat you exactly the same. They might even have exactly the same DNA sequencing. But even if they didn''t know about the destruction of their original selves... you would. We would. You''d have to live with the guilt of knowing your wife, children, and friends all died fighting for their lives, while you survived."

    Butcher closes his eyes.

    "The timeline currently fighting for all our sakes... it''s Omega''s timeline."

    Legion''s body jerks in surprise. "What? It is?!"

    "Yeah. He''s our leader. The First Wordsmith. He''s the most powerful... but he also bears the heaviest burden. Every day, his friends and family die while protecting ours. So I don''t want to hear you running your mouth off about how ''little'' the Evolved Wars ''matter.'' Because they do matter to him. And that matters to me."

    Legion lowers his head. The reptilian-human hybrid rubs his scales, feeling deeply ashamed.

    "Sorry, guys. I was wrong. I''ll... do better."

    "It''s fine." Butcher says, forcing a smile. "We all make that mistake when we''re new. Just remember... real people are dying. Real humans with real lives. Billions and trillions of them. If you think their lives don''t have any value, you might as well hang up your coat and let the Evolved run roughshod over us all."

    The other Jasons all nod in unison. "Here, here."

    Gradually, their discussion dies down.

    Jason-Butcher gazes at the tiny bead of Existence, the light which contains all of humanity''s countless past, present, and future hopes.

    "The War often seems unending..."

 Followup: What Comes After TLP?

    Hey, readers! I wanted to let several days pass so that I could have a lot of questions to field for the Q&A. But... I actually didn''t really get a single question! That''s fine, I thought that might happen. I was originally planning to write two posts, with one focusing on the criticisms TLP has received, and the next focusing on successor and followup stories.

    But after a week of thought, I decided there''s no point in bothering with the first one. Basically, TLP is what it is. Some people REALLY like it, and some just don''t. Your ability to ''get'' TLP and approach it as a piece of fiction relies entirely on whether or not you just want to read some fairly generic and tropey piece of writing or something more ambitious and how many twists you''re willing to find believable. I feel that most people who finish TLP will either really enjoy it, or if they still don''t enjoy it, they will at least have good reasons for doing so.

    That being said, I think I''d rather focus on what comes after TLP now.

    The Cryoverse is a huge multiverse of possibilities. In fact, I decided to write a Cryoverse explicitly to give myself as much writing room as possible. Many Cryoverse characters are immortal. Revival is possible. Reincarnation through the cycle of Samsara is possible. I can write a LitRPG under the premise of a universe constructed by the Evolved. Other galaxies? Galaxy Wars? Cosmic Eldritch Horror Story? Westerns???

    I can write pretty much any type of story my heart desires, and all stories can in one way or another pertain directly to the main thrust of the Cryoverse: "The War is unending."

    So, with that in mind... let''s start looking at my many, many, MANY plans for upcoming Cryoverse content. All of the ideas in this first section are directly related to The Last Precursor. They are prequels, sequels, and spinoffs. After this first section, we will focus on other series I have outlined plans for.

    Finally, at the end of this post, I will add a poll. Please vote for the stories you think interest you the most!

    <hr><hr><hr><hr>

    Story Title: The Cryopod to Hell</a> (The first story and namesake of the ''Cryoverse,'' also a prequel of sorts to TLP)

    Premise: Jason Hiro is a young man who is cryogenically frozen and ends up traveling 100,000 years in the future by accident (sort of like in Idiocracy). When he arrives, he finds that humanity has been enslaved and the demons have killed the angels. Now he is part of a War the likes of which he''d never have imagined. However, he is also the reincarnation of a Hero, and he possesses a unique power known as Wordsmithing, so he must fight to restore humanity''s greatness.

    Genre: Primarily fantasy, but the further into it you read, the more sci-fi it becomes. Many of the story''s themes are about technology versus magic.

    Story appeal: TCTH is a very long story, currently over 1.7m words in length and 420+ chapters. If you enjoy well-written longform fiction, you''d probably enjoy TCTH. Additionally, it does not have a ''standard'' storyline with basic three-act structures, but instead hyper-dense lore, a massive cast of three-dimensional characters, particularly villains, and lots of emphasis on plot twists, huge reveals, and so on. Even 400 chapters into the story, it has not slowed down and if anything the story is only growing bigger and betters.

    If you love structured and well-explained magic/power systems, you''ll probably love the Cryopod to Hell!

    <hr>

    Story Title: Demons and Cyborgs (You can read the first preview chapter here</a>) (This is a direct prequel to TLP, but also a sequel based on TLP''s ending)

    Premise: Nicholai Azaram and Jose Rodriguez are powerful supersoldiers who work for Ramma''s Chosen. They are sent through Ripgates to alternate universes where they must find exploitable worlds rich with resources for their faction. When they arrive on their first habitable world, they discover it is a planet populated with primitive humans ruled over by demons. They must subjugate the demonic populace and make the world available for their superior''s needs, all within the limited span of just two short years.

    Genre: 50/50 sci-fi and fantasy. It is another case of technology versus magic being a central thrust of the Cryoverse.

    Story appeal: Whether you enjoyed TLP or not, this is going to be a fun ride that will set up a ''magicverse'' within the Cryoverse, one where humans ultimately come to possess powerful magic that allows them to fight against their enemies, the demons. I''ve put a lot of work into that magic system, but it won''t bear immediate fruit in CaD, but instead its sequel. This story is also going to further develop Jose Rodriguez, but he''s not even the main character. Nicholai Azaram is, and while it may not be obvious now, Nicky-boy is actually even more of a hardened badass than Jojo.

    If you''re looking for even more TLP, or a more straightforward premise without too many major surprises, this is a more ''standard'' story than TLP!

    <hr>

    Story Title: The Lightbringer''s Rebirth (Sequel to Demons and Cyborgs)

    Premise: Jose Rodriguez and Evelyn Oakley have a bunch of children, and their firstborn is named Joseph Rodriguez, after his father. Joseph becomes the most powerful magus on the planet and rapidly advances humanity''s scientific capabilities. However, one day, he dies in battle to a powerful enemy and sends his soul two thousand years into the future, where it arrives just in time to possess the body of a young woman on the verge of death. HOWEVER, this is not a simple transmigrator/reincarnator story, as he ends up saving her life, and the two of them begin swapping control over the teenager''s body at seemingly random times, Freaky Friday-style

    Genre: Heavily fantasy, not much sci-fi.

    Story appeal: This story will be about Joseph''s battles against demonkind in the far future, perhaps when they have adapted to humanity''s advancing magical capabilities. I am also debating inverting the premise and having Joseph find out humanity pacified demonkind over the past 2000 years and now they''re actually good friends! This would make him that racist old grandpa who can''t look at the demons with anything but hatred while people give him side-eyed glances. But even if demonkind isn''t humanity''s enemy, there will always be another enemy in the Cryoverse, don''t you worry.

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    <hr>

    Story Title: Andaron Saga. (This story is actually being worked on now</a>! It is a videogame sequel to Lightbringer''s Rebirth!)

    Premise: Prince Baudimon is the son of King Thorgrim, the man who defeated and killed all of the Lightbringers and their noble heritage some years earlier. However, with his father falling into old age and bad health, Baudimon finds himself embroiled in an annoying and deadly succession struggle for the throne. He himself has no aspirations to power, being something of a drunkard and womanizer, but his evil older brother, Randall, will stop at nothing to become the next tyrant king.

    Genre: Strictly old fantasy.

    Story appeal: This is a Fire Emblem romhack, but it shows the far, far distant future of Jose Rodriguez''s life, after he has traveled back to the past to live with Evelyn Oakley, have children, and thousands of years pass. Additionally, this is a really fun story with a ton of twists and turns! I am the head writer for the game but it is a collaborative project between me and another writer.

    <hr>

    Story Title: Forbidden Cargo (First preview chapter is readable here</a>!) (Spinoff of TLP)

    Story Premise: Charles Weston is the leader of a small family-run smuggling business. He owns a single frigate, where he ferries cargo and people from star system to star system. However, his long-time acquaintance, Janice Green, has a new job for him. She needs him to ferry an ancient artifact out of a hot zone. This artifact also happens to be something the galaxy''s most fanatic zealots, Ramma''s Chosen, will never let anyone else touch.

    Story genre: Strictly sci-fi, set in the 50th era of the Joseverse.

    Story appeal: Do you want to see Jose Rodriguez as the villain? In this story, he and the rest of Ramma''s Chosen are on the hunt for another character, someone who has obtained a forbidden power no human should ever possess! It''s going to be a lot of fun seeing our lovable boy Jojo becoming a terrifying force of nature capable of tearing through starships, unleashing his psionic powers, and melding into an army of his allies. This story will be all about a frantic chase and a big reveal at the end!

    <hr>

    Story Title: Return of the Precursors (This is a planned direct sequel to the events of The Last Precursor!)

    Story Premise: On the run from a group of pirates, Captain Renault Edwards and his small fleet of ten trader vessels jump to warp to escape their enemies, but instead of entering Inverted Space, they jump into Folded Space, instantly traveling 100,000,000 years into the future! Shocked and horrified, Renault finds that he and his crew have arrived in a universe populated by sentient crocodiles, cats, and dogs! Now, he must rebuild humanity''s might with the knowledge that he will become the future Divine Emperor of

    Genre: Strictly sci-fi.

    Story appeal: The events of RotP will take place directly after the events of Jose Rodriguez''s assault on the Sentients and his subsequent departure from the Milky Way. This is a more straightforward take on The Last Precursor, which will focus on Renault''s efforts to rebuild Terrankind as a dominant force in the Milky Way. If you liked TLP but wish it was less about the Umi Twist, you''d probably like this one more.

    <hr>

    Story Title: Human Hunt (This is a COMPLETED 3-part mini-series set after TLP''s sequel! Read it here</a>!)

    Story Premise: The Kraktol send their fresh recruits to train on a world known as Tarus II. However, these fresh-scales don''t realize their ''prey'' is actually the deadliest hunter in the known universe: A Neanderthal, brought back to life from the ancient Terran times. This is a short three-part mini-series, set as a sequel to Return of the Precursors.

    Genre: Strictly sci-fi.

    Story appeal: Watch as a Neanderthal (The Cryoverse''s interpretation, mind you) fights back against Kraktol recruits and beats their tails into submission! It''s a fun little short story worth reading :D

    <hr><hr><hr><hr>

    With the exception of The Cryopod to Hell, all of the above stories are or will be directly related to The Last Precursor. However, TLP is not the main story of the Cryoverse; the Cryopod to Hell is. All of those stories you just read about can and will be explored eventually in the coming years; my only goal now is to figure out which ones readers are most interested in exploring.

    The stories below are going to be quite a bit more varied. These are story premises that do not directly relate to TLP, but the greater Cryoverse as a whole, often Umi or other characters related to Umi.

    If you''re more interested in exotic stories with lots of fun premise-shakeups, cool systems, LitRPGs, and other things of the nature... consider voting for these in the poll at the bottom!

    <hr><hr><hr><hr>

    Story title: Chosen by God (You can read a detailed writeup about it here</a>)

    Story Premise: Chosen by God is the first story in a planned Superheroverse within the Cryoverse. This story will be somewhat short, perhaps 50 chapters or fewer, and focus on the development of Kate Hawkens as she inadvertently is ''chosen'' by the Creator to become one of a select one percent of humanity granted superhuman abilities. However, Kate does not want to become a superhero, and despite being the strongest of them all, she tries to refuse her ''duty.'' This story is an exploration of privilege and duty itself. Just because someone has the means, does that mean they must follow the calling?

    Genre: Fairly grounded superhuman antics. In between sci-fi and fantasy.

    Story appeal: I''ve always found it odd that so many stories grant the MC incredible abilities and then just assume it''s their duty to save the city/world/galaxy/whatever. Do they really owe the world something if they never asked for those abilities? And what if the world treated them like shit before? Are other people truly privileged to their assistance?

    <hr>

    Story Title: World Resurrection Project [WoRP] (MMO LitRPG!)

    Story Premise: Susan Carver is your fairly average middle-aged woman. She works as a paramedic at a hospital, but is underpaid and overworked, not to mention underappreciated. One day, while exhausted from work, she is struck by truck-kun and dies, arriving inside MMO World, which is basically the afterlife. Or at least, that is what she thinks. She discovers that Earth is actually just one of many tutorial levels, and dying allows people to advance to the ''true game'' where they can begin playing with any buffs and traits they''ve obtained from the tutorial.

    Genre: LitRPG. This is going to be very ''gamey'' and will have something to do with the battle between Evolved, as seen in the end of TLP.

    Story appeal: The premise itself (Earth is only a tutorial!) is quite fun, but we''ll also be seeing all sorts of characters from across the Cryoverse represented inside MMO World (name pending) along with other fun stuff. I''m quite excited for this story and have written a ton of ideas for its characters, but it does need more time in the oven so I don''t halfass it. It''ll probably be years before I''m ready to tackle this bad boy, plus I want to develop the universe further. This story will also probably be a direct sequel to The Cryopod to Hell.

    <hr><hr><hr><hr>

    I have listed nine stories in total. All of them have the potential to be a lot of fun, so now I''m just interested on gathering feedback!

    Do you RR readers have any opinions? Let me know! I''ll read the comments and consider any suggestions. Thanks for reading TLP, and in the future when I post TCTH on RR, I''ll be adding one last ''chapter'' to TLP as a notification for you guys!

    Peace out!