Starwarden Thar'khan's thumb twiddled against his palm, a tic from his days as a fresh-faced Squadlet. His stare drifted out the viewport of the defense platform's tactical center, at the planet Valoria far below.

  A strawberry sphere pockmarked with dark chocolate mountains and vanilla clouds.

  The roast duck on his breath wafted up, a ghostly reminder of dinner that made his stomach rumble anew.

  He was waiting his turn to speak with Magistrate Thorne, eyes strained in the blondish light. Well, not Thorne exactly, but his azure doppelganger perched imperiously atop the conference table.

  The Magistrate was conversing individually with each officer in the call. Those still loyal to Sphere Rael?n.

  A steadily shrinking circle committed, or foolish enough to resist Magisterial overreach. Updates. Tactics. Ultimately coordinating their collective retreat into Free Space.

  Not everyone relished the thought of tucking tail, but remaining meant execution or imprisonment. The Directorate's grace period had expired days ago, binding their fates together. An oath of implication not dissimilar to the angels on Mount Hermon.

  But unlike them, Thar'khan regretted nothing.

  He still firmly believed in Directorate law, its rigid fairness. Thorne was many things—Thar'khan didn't even particularly like the man—but traitor he was not. Thar'khan chose to trust his side of the story despite the lies in every newsfeed. The truth would claw its way to the surface eventually. It always did.

  He only wished it'd hurry the hell up this time...

  At last, the Magistrate pivoted toward him, his gaze hot like a tharrael's beam. Even from a great distance Thorne radiated authority. Chiseled jaw, steely eyes, and gray hair. Hardened by decades of being in a treacherous position where most died, or were deposed young.

  "Starwarden," Thorne said crisply, voice tired but resolute. "Omnira?"

  Thar'khan opened his mouth, then cleared his throat to suppress a potential squeak. "En route. Scanner sweeps estimate arrival within minutes. I still can't believe Undali hasn't diverted. It's either arrogance or youthful stupidity. Both perhaps."

  Thorne flashed a humorless smirk. "If there's one word to define Tani, it's Machiavellian. But if there's an antipode to her cunning, it's stupidity. She always has a plan. Ensure you're prepared three times over."

  "We have, sir. Four." Thar'khan straightened with pride. "Every simulation assures our fleet configuration can handle a lone cruiser. Mammoth or not. Our ships not in orbit are evacuating key assets as per your orders. But they're available if absolutely necessary."

  "More than likely they will be." Thorne's image warped with a hum. "Keep your finger on the comm. Her fleet may be too far, or occupied to render aid, but I must reiterate. She always has a plan. And you can bet it'll be something entirely unexpected."

  Thorne slowly balled a fist at his side, where each knuckle cracked in an angry roll call.

  "It's one of her more irritating attributes."

  "This is a foolish endeavor. Turn away while you're still able." Starwarden Thar'khan twiddled with a thumb, lanky posture not half as rigid as his tone.

  The viewscreen crackled, and through the distortion, Tani noticed a portrait against the wall: a woman in maroon robes that shifted faces. Happy to sad, angry to weary. It held her attention despite her disdain for artwork. A creative, but pretentious and intellectually bankrupt endeavor.

  But this portrait harbored a charm in its simplicity, with its muted frame that accentuated the bright red and verdant colors.

  Truly wonderful.

  Until Tani squinted harder. Uneven strokes, blotches, hesitations. Its mediocrity clearer with each beat of the heart. Kitsch.

  She hadn’t slept, or eaten due to extensive time in the lab—the perfect recipe for a tired, retributive mind to trick the senses. However brief, and minute the deception.

  She took a breath, flexing the diaphragm of her spirit. Focus was paramount.

  Tani had to clear away all distractions. The disruptors' progress, Zharein and his Historians, every paltry scrap of data she'd collected on these immortals. Anything at all that could rob her of the now.

  If only for the next few hours.

  Her attention refocused on Thar’khan's voice, a stern sound that dragged her out of her haze.

  "I do so hope you'll forgive my lack of honorifics," he continued. "Given the potential perfidiousness of the situation, I've elected to ignore them."

  Tani's lips curled into a genial smile. His latest words had been courteous. Enough. But his hazel pupils were filled with the hunger of a lion. He wanted to prove something against her—to bring Tani low so that he may appear exceptional.

  The unspoken price of prodigiousness that had stained the latter part of her childhood.

  One year she was one of many eager students. The next, a metric of excellence that others were cruelly judged against.

  She wasn't all that popular from then on out...

  "Of course, Starwarden, you're playing things close to the chest," Tani finally replied, sweet as honey, seated in her throne at the bridge's center. "But need I remind you that you're now in violation of Directorate law?"

  "You need not. Your grace period spoiled like wamu milk in the sun. Quick. A farce, a miscarriage of justice. Turn away Undali, and perhaps some form of diplomacy may prevail. I will not hesitate to destroy an invader. Foreign nor domestic."

  Tani rose, delicate robes slinking in her wake, until she could almost kiss the viewscreen. Both eyes sharply affixed on Thar'khan like a hawk. No scowl. Not a smile in sight. The rumble of ceespace, and hushed voices of nearby crew the only ambiance.

  Thar'khan's reputation had preceded him. Trite, but true. A ginger-headed nepotist eager to prove the merits of his naval heritage. He wasn't at all special amongst his peers. Quite average, actually. Though his reputation for effective blockades stood a tad more apart.

  "Think of those under you, Thar'khan. If you'll not surrender for the law's sake. Do so for them. Save their lives."

  "Ordinarily? I would. But there's treachery afoot. Whether the stench emanates from you or another Magistrate, I know not. Yet. Besides, you're hopelessly outnumbered. Omnira will be a ball of burning durtanium before long."

  "My adversaries are ever emboldened by ill-perceived advantages. Want me to spoil how things usually end for them?"

  "When you drop from ceespace." Thar'khan waved away someone off-screen with a frown. "Every cruiser, platform—every fighter in my charge will show you the folly of hubris. This I swear to you."

  He hovered a hand over the comm control, posture dutifully composed. "See you soon, former Magistrate Undali."

  The transmission terminated, leaving Tani now able to see the ship's bow through the screen's translucence. An obelisk point that valiantly pierced the crimson energies ahead, like the sword of a god at war with a tsunami.

  Her fist clenched at her side. Not in anger, but joyless realization. She needed to make an example of Thar'khan, a somewhat virtuous man made traitorous by her own conspiracy.

  Tani didn't want to kill him. Quite the opposite. She genuinely pitied his precarious and rightfully suspicious position.

  Yet Tani could ill-afford to appear the overbearing aggressor. Or worst yet a foolish pawn in a greater coup d'etat. She was a leader, here to establish a legal claim against misaligned Loyalists.

  And that narrative must serve her in its entirety.

  Thar’khan was too smart for his own good. His resolve, and learned tongue, could make him a dangerous naysayer in the eyes of the people. Even as a dogged prisoner of war.

  And for that, he would go down alongside his ship, in a bloom of death and metal shards—the desire of every navy man worth their salt.

  So, in a morbid way, she was doing him a favor by etching his legacy into history. Albeit with blazing fire in lieu of a simple chisel.

  Tani pinched herself when the stench of her bullshit became too much to bear. She wasn't helping Thar’khan. And more blameless people would die along this journey called her life. The Citadel attack had also shed the innocent blood of those charged to guard it. It was an unavoidable factor best gotten over.

  While it still made her stomach ache a little, brief inversions of morality were too effective to go underutilized. She could not gain power over the Directorate by being the woman she wanted to be, but who she had to be.

  This was for the greater good. For her greater goals. And it would be a crime to sully the memories of those lost with excuses and cowardice. They all deserved her very best, and then some.

  And after all, in the end, innocent or not?

  All blood warmed one's hands just the same.

  Thar'khan watched as Undali's flagship slithered out of ceespace. A distant, but sizable metal dot from the direction of Valoria's fourth moon.

  The crew around him was still but confident, eager to see what havoc the battle might wreak. Omnira was a veritable floating city, a heavily armed flotilla littered with state of the art weaponry.

  But invincible it was not.

  If its engines were focused and destroyed, Thar'khan could move his larger vessels out of range, then send in bombers and gunboats to riddle it to bolts. Or, box it in with cruisers, concentrate the platforms' fire at the bridge. Forcing Undali to redistribute energy from her aegietheric, exposing its flanks to the cruisers.

  Or, exposing them to drillers if he wanted her brought alive.

  Any of those plans would undoubtedly save countless lives.

  But Thorne had insisted on direct engagement according to Directorate mandates. Somewhat unwise militarily, but not so from a political perspective. Blatant Magisterial overreach had to be smacked down for all to see, with as much integrity as the Loyalists could manage.

  Regardless of the tactic, Undali was most certainly doomed. Thar'khan had never been more sure of an outcome in his life.

  But besting her was best proven rather than thought...

  "Is it in firing range?" asked Thar'khan with an even edge.

  "About a minute, sir. Forty orbicmeters." The scanner officer Rogers, a Squadlet with clipped brown hair shifted in his seat. "But, I'm also picking up irregularities in the Omnira's scanner shadow. Tiny glitches flickering at the rear like firebeatles. Never seen anything like it."

  Thar'khan chuckled, an inaudible mumble in his throat. The officer was a new addition. Competent, yet his occasional naivety was enough to amuse him—made his bones feel vicariously youthful simply being near him.

  "Scanner eddies are the least of our concerns. An uncommon, but not unheard of occurrence when very large vessels exit ceespace. Either that, or there's another vessel traveling in the treacherous wake of...her vector?"

  Thar'khan's eyes thinned with a stare hot enough to melt the transplast. His jaw tight as intuition became sordid reality, a mocking revelation that instantly made his head ache.

  Another ship drifted into the tawny sunlight. Slowly. Out of the shadow of Omnira's bulk like a wayward wraith. With the leisure of a predator at a watering hole. Golden. Exquisite.

  Mammoth.

  Alarms rang as chatter spiked over the comms in scratchy shouts. The crew scrambled to adjust their firing solutions amidst the influx of new orders, hurried, but not panicked.

  "Identify that vessel, damn you!" yelled Thar'Khan.

  "It's The Kiln, sir!" Rogers paused to key at the console. "Starwarden Shia in command!"

  "Frack it all! Defense platforms, cross-fire Pattern B-14 on Undali's vessel! Cruisers, intercept The Kiln! Keep them apart! Divide and conquer!"

  Stolen story; please report.

  All four platforms unleashed an ungodly, and blinding torrent at Omnira. Bullets. Bolts. Neutrino torpedoes. A hail that lit the void above Valoria's northern hemisphere like a second sun.

  The barrage struck in a lapis and cobalt glare against Omnira's shell, a stubborn and resolute shield, as the vessel returned unholy hellfire of its own.

  The plating at his feet buckled like an earthquake from weapons' impact.

  Thar'khan's two heavy cruisers and fighter-carrier tore away with the white heat of drivefire. Hosts to buzzing interceptors and bombers that oozed from their guts like maggots. Sleek, flaxen, and more than eager to devour.

  Adrenaline poured through Thar'khan's bones into his blood, sharpened his mind. Despite his insistence, Thorne had grossly understated Undali's penchant for unusual tactics. He'd known her to be clever but not like this.

  Scanner-masking was a mathematically difficult and precise effort. One that had changed every factor and calculation within his four well-tuned simulations.

  Her ship would’ve taken time to humble. But two made the battle precarious. Uncertain. Thar'khan had three more cruisers to call upon, but they were loading supplies on the surface. Assets too valuable to simply abandon. He hadn't actually expected to need them.

  While any actionable hostile fleet was still well out of range, to tarry longer than necessary tempted a dark fate.

  For all intents and purposes—perhaps, in the name of supporting his Loyalist peers elsewhere...the ships up here were the only ones he truly had.

  Thar'khan clasped a fist at his back, studying the many viewscreens lining the circular bulkhead. Explosions. Chaos all around. Yet he stood still as a tree, stoic, aside from the twitch in his traitorous thumb.

  He was considerably less sure of the outcome now...

  War, like mankind may have changed over time, but the core aspects would remain the same forever.

  Arrows. Flintlocks. Capacitor rifles. Superficial implements that meant little outside the rapidity with which they killed...

  Boom! Wrang! Phizz!

  The heavy cruisers' Ra'thir and Lúm kept pace with Shipwarden Shia on either side, all three vessels firing ferally over Valoria's carmine surface. Broadside guns muted in the void, only heard through scanner consoles, simulated audio to enhance situational awareness.

  Aegietherics shells flared in agony. Segmented, turquoise, and pure energy. Most ordinance exploded or ricocheted wild, but a few strays bore through—violently impacted into hull with bursts of golden shrapnel.

  M?lan-Class fighters swirled in a maelstrom of metal. Friend and foe identical aside from transponders. Caution was the name of their deadly game, and not one pilot fired without checking thrice.

  On the opposite end, Omnira drove toward the planet, angled down like a wedge to protect its departing bombers. One of six starboard engines had succumb to an explosion. A plume of light and heat. Undali's gunners quick to claim the ventral half of a platform in recompense.

  From the surface, the conflict looked like a battle between Olympians and Titans—but Olympus be damned—Valoria was the prize now.

  The sky over the northern continent was aflame, a burnished blaze eager to swallow its chocolate mountains, vanilla clouds...and the many colorful peoples sprinkled about.

  "Intensify forward firepower! You, get that squadron into position!"

  Starwarden Kaphas stalked the pathways between command stations, not hurried, yet steadily in motion. Orders. Admonishments and tactical observations. Arms crossed tight at the chest—brown beard pointed like a spear—rich blue eyes icier than a glacier.

  He looked more serious of a man than in reality, but for all his quirks, he was the best Starwarden for Omnira. Not among the leading officers in the Collective Fleet, but certainly Tani's own. Kaphas' unique outlook on warfare often led him to unexpected stratagems.

  He'd even surprised her twice.

  If anyone else had been at the reins, Tani would've taken command by now. Still might for due diligence's sake, but not out of genuine necessity.

  Tani was curiously observing the conflict through the viewport, ignoring the many consoles around her throne. Every so often she'd reach for the exquisite selection of cheeses placed at her side. The sharp cheddar cube infused with jalapeno sauce was in particular her favorite.

  The bridge about was a spacious trapezoidal expanse with a low ceiling and lower light. Wide at the front, thin at the rear. Fifteen stations flanked either side of the main path, lowered into five beveled trenches.

  Each row had a different core task: Comms, Tactical, Navigation, Scanner, and Tertiary. The last of which primarily served as fighter control or research analysis.

  Back out in space, more calculative attacks had usurped the initial bloodlust on both sides. From swinging with a bat to shanking with a pen. A not at all atypical phenomenon.

  At the genesis of smaller engagements, everyone did their best to overwhelm the enemy's shells. In hopes the battle could end quick as it started.

  But eventually power became a greater consideration, not that they could run out, but instead overload the thermionic conduits. And that meant no shell, and no shell meant no ship.

  Not for long anyhow...

  "Milady? We've taken out the leftmost platform, but I'm afraid we'll be on the defensive for the time being. The conduits are thirsty for coolant. Five minutes tops. Any new thoughts or orders come to mind?"

  Kaphas stopped at her left side, and rather poorly snuck a piece of cheese, eyes steely fixed toward Valoria.

  "I'm always thinking, Kaphas. But there are none that I care to share. As for orders, hmm, let's see."

  Tani keyed the infopad in her armrest, and whirled the gimballed monitors closer. All seven in stunning 24K, the highest of resolutions. Eager to present heat-maps, fighter routes, and myriad forms of telemetry.

  "Those are J-Star Class platforms, decent maneuverability at higher orbits. But they're a few kilometers short of their recommended deployment."

  "Yes, I do believe that is an atmospheric consideration, milady." Kaphas gently ran a finger over the leftmost screen, swiping until Valoria's profile appeared. "There are high levels of tetra-magnetic particles in the exosphere."

  "I saw them. Smart on Thar'khan's part to hang back, the particles do make maneuvering more wonky. But still, they're using additional power to maintain that gravitic orbit, meaning they can't move too fast. This is a notable defensive sacrifice we can ill-ignore, wouldn't you say?"

  "I would. And, if I may make a suggestion?"

  Tani shifted her braids aside, since they'd rebelliously started to itch about the breasts. "As I've said. When it's a tactical subject matter you don't have to keep asking."

  "Old dog and new tricks." He chuckled warmly. "But while the particles make things difficult usually, they might be of use if utilized correctly. We could maneuver sharply starboard at full drivefire, and use them and Valoria's gravity to sling us around. Then two of the three platforms would be unable to fire to full effect. As long as we keep the one in-between us."

  She stopped fussing with her hair to properly regard the man—to the muffled roar of weapons' impact. Armed with a warm smile, and admittedly heightened affection for him.

  "Three times now, Kaphas."

  "Three occurrences of what exactly, milady?"

  "I'm saying your plan is solid. And that you may begin the maneuver. After, I supplement it first." Tani stretched her legs with a soft groan. "Comms, Starwarden Thar'khan on the line in two minutes exact, if you don't mind."

  "Yes, milady," yelled back one of the officers.

  Tani swiped at the monitors like a woman possessed, estimating trajectory and inputting delayed commands. The bulk of which focused on relaying all shell power to the bow.

  "I think I see what you intend," Kaphas took a step forward, then raised his voice toward the command line. "All stations prepare for a change in tactics. And, a rather drastic one at that."

  He turned back with almost imperceptibly lowered shoulders, and a twinkle of apprehension in his eye.

  "You're worried that during the maneuver our flanks will be exposed for too long?" she asked calmly. "Is that the factor of the plan that troubles you?"

  "Yes, the only one. Read me like a book, milady."

  "Worry not. Have the gunners focus the bombers, and fighters, fighters. It will be a brief endeavor. The greater concern is if Thar'khan utilizes drillers in our moment of weakness. What think you the odds of that?"

  "He's well-learned, and once he realizes what you intend...high. Nine out of ten, easy."

  Tani smiled, sincere, but sharp. "We'll have to inform all hands to brace themselves. I'll want security teams equally distributed, so they can support wherever needed. And place two-thirds of my Sentinels at key systems. Additional padding has never hurt."

  Kaphas nodded with raised a brow, equally confused and curious. "Where pray tell would you like the rest of them?"

  "Oh, somewhere far more important, my good Starwarden. Far, more important."

  Maia steadied against the nearest intravenous station, a long silver rod bolted to the aureate, rocky floor. In the midst of a small cluster of packaged needles and other medical supplies suspended mid-air.

  In times of battle she was stationed in Medbay Eighteen—a Triage Support Unit under Sub-Medic Vélan.

  Standard procedure had lowered their GEG priority, hence the less than reliable physics. The inertial dampening and gravity was better allotted to areas critical to defense, those that received a healthier dose of targeted enemy fire.

  It wasn't quite zero gravity, but closer to zero-point-seven-five. Only immediately noticeable for anything around the weight of a pen. As long as she didn't randomly leap up into the air, she'd probably be fine.

  While Maia understood that no one would survive if all the gunners were stuck to the ceiling, or tripping over themselves...

  ...it was still a faint pain in the ole as'ul.

  The bay was practically devoid of people, so it could be worse. Twelve beds, ten empty. With bright white lights and a low-ceiling above. A cramped, boxy room that occasionally shook like a poorly packaged parcel.

  "I wish they'd hurry up out there," said Kesi Daniels, Maia's very pregnant patient in the fourth bed. Beige-blonde hair, with a mint-green gown in lieu of the standard gold uniform. "One wrong bump and I'll go into labor right now."

  Maia beamed as she wobbled over to check her vitals on the console. A real-time scan of the beautiful baby boy inside on the screen. Fetal heart rate, biparietal diameter, amniotic fluid volume, etc. All nominal.

  "If I could grow an orbicmeter and give'em all a good wack Kesi, I would. Just for you. Now relax. You'll both be alright. Tani—milady is very adept at these things. Be over in no time. Especially against a staunch traditionalist like Thar'khan."

  "Traditionalist?" Kesi paused with pursed lips, considering her next sentence. "I didn't know you were learned in strategy? Forgive me for saying so Maia, but, I always thought you were some sort of fancy secretary or assistant? Your main duties, of course."

  "Not far from the truth." Maia said, unbothered by the assumption, as she gently ran a hand-scanner over her belly with a hum. "But I attended the Scholastic Consortium, and learned a lot of higher education thingies, before they grew wise and kicked me out. So, sometimes a random fact from a random lesson, taught by a long forgotten teacher blurts out."

  "Hmm, well still, you were admitted when most are denied. There's some special pride in that. Right?"

  "So they say, but I haven't felt as much. You'll be the first to know when the magic finally hits though."

  She winked, then readjusted Kesi's pillow before checking on the other patient. A man with minor burns. Though marginal as they were, hands tended to be pretty important for any job. And especially so for an engineer.

  "Maia, come check this out!" yelled Vélan, striped scrubs moderately wrinkled, eyes glued to the viewscreen on his desk. "What the hell are they doing up there?"

  She carefully made her way over, then gentle grabbed his sturdy shoulders to keep in place.

  "What exactly am I supposed to be—?"

  The screen cut out, and the red glare of emergency lights devoured the room's calm glow.

  "All hands, brace for Maneuvers-Class 4 and potential boarding!" came a harsh voice from the overhead intercom. "Security teams, report to Alpha-B-2 positions! T-Minus one-hundred and twenty seconds!"

  Potential boarding? He'd been right in his question. What the hell was Tani doing up there?

  Vélan and her wasted no time, and triple-checked that their patients were properly fastened, then went to work on themselves. Both seated side-by-side at the rear of the bay, strapped into uncomfortable nets of drab crash-webbing.

  "Probably got about forty seconds, you ready?" asked Vélan, breath a little hitched. "Might get bumpy. And boarders, really? Wouldn't have imagined that."

  "They said potential, don't want to stress myself out about it just yet. I'm more worried about breaking my neck."

  "I think we'll be fine overall. Simply can't help but notice that my life has been at risk more this last year. Has me seriously considering early retirement."

  She flexed her fists to calm the rising nerves, both eyes shut as Vélan's peppermint breath warmed her cheek. "Are you saying that our young Magistrate has something to do with that added risk?

  "I didn't say that, you did. Don't put words in my mouth."

  "Fair, but we both know you thought it."

  He slyly threw a glance as her eyes opened, not concerned, but careful with how he phrased his consequent words. "You don't think there's at least some correlation?"

  "Oh, it's definitely due to her." Maia laughed, then picked some lent from his shoulder. "I'm just glad that someone else has to deal with it now too. At least with the fleet there's sound, professional reasons behind every frolic into danger. That's not always the case being her best friend."

  "Huh. Well, I guess I'll have to take some solace in that."

  Omnira lurched so hard that Maia thought they'd bumped into Valoria. Sparks spat from the stuttering light fixtures, and a chorus of klaxons echoed out in the hall. They yelped. Coughed. The webbing dug painfully into her shoulders, and black spots blitzed into her blurry vision.

  "Everyone alright?" Vélan called out, voice slightly strained. "Kesi? Water didn't break on us now did it?"

  Kesi responded with a few agitated groans, hand braced at her temple. "Thought I did for a moment. But I think I may have simply pissed myself."

  "Better that. Hang in there you two. Give us a second, and we'll come to you when it's safe."

  A loud thrum traveled up through the frame of the ship, a rhythm not at all dissimilar to that of drivefire. As if the engines were working overtime for whatever reason.

  "Drillers have landed, Sections' A32, B12, C24, and E2, prepare yourselves!" alerted the intercom speaker. "Downgrade to Maneuvers-Class 3. And I repeat, prepare for boarders!"

  Relief flooded over Maia. They weren't in any of the listed sections. Though it was bittersweet, since others elsewhere didn't share in that luck. At least under Class 3, they could unsecure the webbing at their own risk, and better help the patients.

  Medbay Eighteen was safely nestled near the ventral stern, so the chances of a driller hitting near here were slim.

  "Update, boarders have landed in Sections' D14, D24, and D09. Security en route!"

  Maia'd heard the man loud and clear, naturally, but took a blissful moment to pretend otherwise. D24 was their section. Because of course it fucking was. She didn’t waste time with a thunderstruck expression, unlike Vélan, Kesi, or their marginally burned engineer.

  The universe had put a price on Maia's head years ago, and being friends with Tani didn't help. She was sort of used to it.

  None of them moved. The Medbay had already been latched shut due to decompression prevention protocols, and thus was likely the safest place to holdout. For the time being.

  Who knew what rules of engagement Thar'khan had impressed on his men? This could be a cordial bout between kinsmen on opposite sides of an unwanted conflict. Or an absolute bloodbath with no holds barred.

  Maia's mind and heart raced between the possibilities, but in that crucial moment of fate, a single dumb thought stood out in the crowd.

  The very same that always popped up when things hit the rusty hull...

  ...she should've become a florist like Mama Undali wanted.