The first sensation was an incredibly painful throbbing in his head. Then, nausea. Then, searing pains began reporting in from various locations. Captain Glen Travis thought to himself, “well, that went well.”

He tried opening his eyes and saw only darkness. Perhaps he was blind now. Then, a few blinking indicator lights came into focus — all of them red and of the dire-warning kind. So he wasn’t blind. Nor was he dead. That might or might not be a good thing.

He turned his head and saw that, floating along with him in the cabin was a variety of shuttle parts, most looking broken, many of them structural. The light was dim, provided only by the warning lights and one computer console monitor that — miraculously — was still functioning. He felt a wall behind him and used that to turn his body so he could see elsewhere. It wasn’t pretty. One side of the shuttle was literally ripped open so there was obviously no air on board. He was living on his suit’s oxygen supply and that must be running low. He felt cold and knew that the suit’s battery must also be running down.

He gave a cough and that, with the nausea caused him to spit up. He was thankful he’d missed breakfast that morning. Turning still further, he saw the suited figure of Steven Fallon and pushing off the wall, floated over to it. Fumbling with the belt on his suit, Travis retrieved a small flashlight and aimed it at Fallon’s face plate. That was a mistake. The face plate was cracked and his crewmate’s head had ruptured at several orifices. Quick-froze blood coated the inside of Fallon’s helmet.

Travis released the suited corpse and suppressed another wave of nausea as he turned back to inspect his ship. Making his way to the storage locker, he grabbed another battery pack and exchanged it with the nearly dead one on his own suit. Examining some dials on one wall, he noted that one of the shuttle’s oxygen supply tanks was still intact and he connected an emergency line from it to an auxiliary port in his suit. At least he had an air supply although how long it would last was anyone’s guess; the content dial had been smashed by something during the collision with the asteroid.

He floated back to the gash in the side of the shuttle. Stars, asteroids, dust; all glittered or reflected outside the rent opening. There would be no repairing that.

Following another coughing fit, he made his way to the one remaining computer that still operated. He typed in a few commands and what came up on the screen wasn’t good. Most of the shuttle’s systems were down. Navigation was out. Well, Travis had expected that. Life support was history. Communication was mere scrap. The engines were toast — no, wait! The primary DeHe was gone, as was the ACHE drive, but the BOD engine showed yellow. Damaged, but not destroyed.

Looking out of the Zirconium windows, what was left of them, told him nothing as to his whereabouts. He knew he’d been thrown quite a ways by the blast from the Gorgon ship but how far, before he’d slammed into a rock, he didn’t know. It mattered not, he decided, since he really had no way to propel his ship at the moment.

He sucked some water from the “hamster tube” inside his helmet and tried to recall what he could of the theory and construction of the BOD engine he’d gleamed from talks and instruction with the Mad Scientists. Then he retrieved a tool box and went to work.

All seemed to be going well. At least it looked like he could repair the damage to the strange mixture of coils and other components. He poked here and there, soldered this and that, replaced a few parts. He glanced over at the computer monitor but the BOD status still blinked yellow.

It’s a funny thing about being in space. Drifting. You have no sensation that you might be hurtling rather quickly through it and it lets your guard down. So it was that the shuttle struck another rock without warning. This time, the damage included the one remaining oxygen tank for the shuttle. Not that it mattered because upon impact, a twisted structural beam severed the line from Travis’s suit to that tank. His suit automatically shut the port and went back on the nearly depleted bottle in his suit’s pack.

Travis estimated that he had about ten minutes to live. Oh well, he thought, it’s been quite a ride.

“Such arrogance. To think that the one who calls himself Tilmer-N actually believes he has thwarted our devices. You’d better intervene.”

Three of the Guardians stood on a hill overlooking the two Rogon ships on the southern continent. With their screens set, they could not be seen by those below them.

The one called The Observer said, “Not just yet. They haven’t actually harmed Yelsig or the other Soessossins. If they do, they will cease to exist.”

“What of the humans?” the third said.

“Ah. We are not guardians to them. I am interested in seeing how this all plays out. So far, this has been a battle between two species we have no sympathies for. Still, if the Rogon mothership decides to engage, it will clearly effect the Soessossins and I will put a stop to it.”

The first said, “I feel some pity for the Humans. No, not this fanatical bunch here on this continent but rather the ones whose city has been nearly destroyed in total. All they wanted was to live free and it seems one tragedy after another afflicts them.”

The Observer said, “I confess to some feelings for them as well but they are a violent species and when you live by the sword. . . .”

The third said, “It would be better if this battle was conducted someplace else.”

“I suspect that will be the case. Both sides have some wounds to lick for the present.”

On the dragon head Ship Swift-Strike

Southern Landmass:
Jaric; tilmer-N had spent most of his early life studying this strange animal that called itself ‘Human”. He was the youngest of his study group, small, with only two claw hands worth of members when all but Master Riel and his assistant were instructed to leave home and travel with the expedition that would finally and officially bring the new planet into the empire.

He had no formal training in military matters excepting the standard year eight that all received. A brief instruction in shipboard procedure and he was through the wormhole and on Earth. With the almost bloodless occupation completed, and that was how they were supposed to run, tilmer-N’s youth, dispensability, and superior linguistic skills, (he could speak a half dozen of the native languages with the ease of a native), led him to be selected to travel with this minor mission to the Alchibah star system.

Things had not gone as well here. There was bound to be a lopping and blunting of claws over this but tilmer-N was well clear of any responsibility. Alertness to the danger and overwhelming force would make quick work of things now that force rather than persuasion was to be employed.

When the Swift-Strike, as it’s human crew called it, landed in the south there was no opposition, nor had there been to the first ship. The Yelsig were realists, spears against armed and armored human soldiers was not a winning situation. He would tell them what was required of them soon enough. Right now he needed to interview the captive plucked from the north before the destruction of the city.

Escorted by two UN troopers, an average sized middle-aged male was brought in front of him and shackled with a short chain to a recessed ring in the deck. “Your name slave!”

No response except a look of defiance. It had been a long time since tilmer had seen that expression on a human. No matter, it would not last. He raised his controller, set at low power, and reached out brushing the human’s neck. The man withered in pain but remained standing. “Name slave!” Again no reply.

Increasing the power and another touch. This time the man went to his knees and a gasp escaped through his clenched teeth.

“You will answer me—or you will die. Again I say, Name slave!”

This interrogation would need to be recorded and circulated for the edification of all the Rogon. In the hundreds of interviews tilmer-N had conducted on Earth this set a new record, futile of course but revealing. One more notch and the human would have died. As it was all tilmer got was the name Erbert Neilson before the man lay still, unconscious, on the deck, and was dragged away.

“Bring him back when he recovers; we will start again.”

Three hours later, drenched from repeated buckets of icy water, the man was once more chained to the deck and still looking defiant.

“Now Mr. Neilson, you see how hard you made things for yourself? I have read your UNWG dossier, you really are small potatoes you know, and I must say your continued failure to answer all of my questions fully and completely will only bring more of the same punishment. Perhaps you think you are protecting your friends of your brother Lars. Be aware that unless you cooperate when we do bring in your brother, he will be put to the touch and beg for death while you watch powerlessly.

“You will supply me now with all that you know about the splinter group you call the Leviticans. As you can see, you are not our only source of information. Any lies will be evident, if not now later and a price will be extracted.”

“What a waste of time,” Jaric; tilmer-N, said to the ships captain an hour later. “The slave knows almost nothing about the group of humans called the Leviticans except the member’s names and physical descriptions. Nothing at all about what they have been doing or their plans and intentions.”

“Interview you will a Yelsig next. Information vital is.”

“No experience, have I with the Chewpess’s client species. But think I, they will react to pain as all organism react.”

Yelsig was troubled as he had never been before. In the past there was always the Guardians to call on. Now they were silent. Could it be the new religious cult turning so many of the tribe from the old ways? What could these Rogons possibly want from the people? To travel years in time and light-years in space for slaves and meat animals, it made no sense. He was being taken to the second skull ship and perhaps something would happen to reveal the inner workings of the mystery.

“You will speak to me and answer all questions.” The voice of the Rogon was much smoother, more like the earthman Yelsig had become accustomed to, than the Rogon who addressed him when the first ship landed.

“Why would I do anything else?”

“A willing slave? This is indeed a surprise.”

“The Yelsig bow to the inevitable in all things.”

“I know the purpose of the medallion you wear. We have blocked its ability to transmit or receive along with any other such device in this system.”

Whether that information disturbed the Llama like creature tilmer-N could not discern. The tribes body language was unknown to him, perhaps somewhere in the ships database. Given time he would learn.

“Explain to me what the humans are doing on this continent and whatever else that you know about them.”

Again, and to Jaric; tilmer-N’s amazement, the slave told without further prompting a story about strange beliefs and religious conversion. Human religious belief was something tilmer was very familiar with, but not, that as a client of the Chewpess, the Yelsig were susceptible to change. The war starting up between the factions was something no Rogon would have predicted. There was much to ponder in this revelation and time while other things happened.

“You will order all of your followers to search out the humans on this continent and report their position back to us. You will have them relay this information to all other members of your race they come in contact with. You will do this at once.”

One of the human troops entered the chamber. “Master, we have made contact with the one you spoke to us of.” And looking at Yelsig said, “Am I able to speak freely?”

“Wait,” the Rogon said. “Take this slave away first. He is of no further use to me and has no time to waste.”

Burt Buchanan sweated even in the sub freezing temperature in the hold of the colony’s freight ship, pulled ashore for winter outside of the Neilson brothers’ boatyard. For some reason neither the ship nor the boatyard building itself had been touched in the attack on Liberty City. There was a lot of valuable materials left in the frozen boatyard Burt was doing a little salvaging, actually some might call it stealing, but he needed to survive the winter. Then the fighting, fires, and explosions, started happening in town. From the elevation of the ships deck he saw Lars and Erbert Neilson, rifles in hand, head towards the city.

Listening to his personal com unit, he tried to make some sense of what was happening. This was nothing like he had envisioned. He went into the ship’s hold where after taking this guard job, he had placed his other com unit, the one no one but he knew existed and the one whose signal he had been assured could only be detected by a similar device. Activating it for the first time since training on Earth, Burt plugged it into a jack on his usual unit and saw the dim green all working and proper light, but no sound or text on the small screen. Now he had a real problem. Stay here? Or seek cover until the fighting is over?

Paralysis overcame him, try as he might he was unable to make a move in any direction. Not able to leave the darkness, and wholly imaginary safety of his surroundings, he huddled in a corner of the hold until the sounds of fighting finally faded away. He stared all the while, fixated at the com screen, until nothing else existed in his universe. He was going slowly insane and was watching every step. It was well past dawn when the device came to life and barely coherently, with fumbling fingers he was able to complete the security password exchanges. After years of waiting he would finally get everything he had earned and deserved.

On Board Rogon Starship

Alchibah Asteroid belt:
Richard Redmond waited outside the recessed doorway. He was not accustomed to waiting, but that couldn’t be helped. Suddenly the door opened “enter” came the Rogon voice from within.

The room was large and there were just three Rogons in the near end. Redmond was glad to see Shintok; maylock-A, but somewhat shocked to see the second one, the distinct lack of a neck hair identified this Rogon as an Ossog.

Redmond knelt down on one knee and addressed the Rogons “Masters, your obedient slave awaits orders.”

Ossog; sespes-AP was not impressed “enough is! Clear speak is!”

Shintok; maylock-A took over the questioning “no slave speak… straight talk only is…first view” the room darkened and a large 3-D presentation filled much of the volume. Redmond realized he was watching the battle between UNWG task force and the Rebel pirates the little raiders move fast and precisely firing quickly but accurately. Redmond was not a trained naval officer but something was obviously wrong… then it dawned on him.

“The cowardly traitors didn’t fight back never even fired back… while I’ll have all their heads” he said, without thinking that the people in question were already dead.

“Silence” said Ossog; sespes-AP ‘cowards not, too high acceleration is… view again.”

The scene repeated itself and this time it was obvious to Redmond that the pirates were much too quick and agile. What could explain that?

As the room lights came back up sespes was first too speak “slave ships acceleration too high is… explain must.”

Redmond had only one answer “the UN was experimenting on an advanced drive; those criminals stole the secrets and have had all this time to get them to work. That’s was why we were planning to come here when the Masters arrived.”

“Enough! Truth is?” said the big Ossog. maylock answered “truth is not… lying again, this slave is… krett explain must!” Redmond began to sputter “Master truth is…” when the 3rd Rogon spoke he was shocked into speechlessness.

“Human slave, we will not tolerate any more lies. If you don’t know something… say so. Keep making up self serving lies and your usefulness ended will be…so cut the bullshit!” This third Rogon was Shintok; krett-N after a lifetime dedicated to studying Humankind and the last 3 years dealing with them directly he was not going to put up with any nonsense from one such as this.

“Forgive me Master; I gave only reasonable answer… I will not make any more guesses.”

Humiliated and scared Richard Redmond was still incapable of admitting what was so obvious that even the alien could see it.

sespes spoke again ”Enough is, continue the view.”

The projected images now played out the events from the planet Rogons being ambushed on a mountainside, another lightning fast fighter destroying a dragon head ship, a strange fight in primitive snow covered town and then explosions… many explosions.

When the lights came up again Shintok; krett-N resumed the interrogation, for interrogation it was. “Our dragon heads were landing with defenses set low…we were told not to expect a resistance… You, told us not to expect resistance. How do you explain that?”

“Please, master I had no way to know the criminals would fight, they fled from Earth… We had a plan… to kill them on the asteroid; I didn’t know.”

Richard Redmond knew one thing, he was arguing for his life here, he would say anything to placate this horrible creature who spoke and thought like a human.

“You should have known… these slaves had been fighting you for years, why would they not fight here? You have much to explain” said krett, and the questions went on and on and on.

Liberty City

Compiled from the log files of Connor Benjamin and Elana Pierce

Connor waved Elana to get down as they reached the edge of the forest north of Liberty proper. They were about three hundred yards from Liberty Hall and a little more from Hanna’s. As they sighted in Connor couldn’t help but think of how many times he had been in this situation back on Earth. Only this time it wasn’t some goonie military base they were casing, it was his home, and that made all the difference. He didn’t care what aliens were there or what kind of technology they had, this invasion was not going to stand.

“How many you count?” he asked Elana.

“Fifteen, maybe twenty in sight,” she replied.

“Same. Target?”

Hanna’s Inn exploded in a shower of debris and fire. What had a second before been the largest standing structure on the planet was now matchsticks and kindling flying through the air in every direction. A half a dozen goonies who were standing too close got flung into the snow around them and Connor had seen several more, along with an alien figure, enter the Inn just moments before its explosion.

“Target,” he repeated in a grim voice.

“The alien looking around the side of the Hall. The one that’s gesturing. Range 300 yards, wind nil.”

“Affirmative.” He slowly squeezed the trigger, paused, and then finished the stroke. The shot from his .50 rang out across the town, echoing off the nearby hills. A puff of green and purple mist blew out the side of the aliens head and the outside of Liberty Hall got painted with a splotch in the same colors.

The pair got up and ran, crouched low, to their next position to take their next target. This was going to be a long night.

After several rounds like this – take out a target or two, regroup and move, take out another target or two, repeat – they heard a roar coming from the northwest. Looking back they saw one of the skull ships heading rapidly south. After passing well over town and nearly heading out to sea it banked sharply back north and headed for a rapid decent into Liberty City.

“We’re running out of time shooter,” Elana said, “They’re not going to stick around for this turkey shoot. We’re not the only ones that’ve been picking them off, either.” Throughout the night they had heard other shots coming from the west and southwest of them. It looked like Rocco, Kaiya, Joe and the rest of the militia were holding up their end of the bargain just fine.

“You’re right, they’re bugging out. Do your worst.” And with that they went to town, pumping round after round into the aliens and WG troops in their line of sight. Some missed, most didn’t. Their barrage pretty quickly attracted some unwanted attention. A shell of some sort landed not fifteen yards in front of them, erupting in a blaze of fire, and then another crashed into the trees to their left, sending branches and splinters flying.

“Move!” Connor barked, running full tilt back into the woods with Elana just in front of him, though running was probably a generous term to describe what they were doing given the snowshoes they were wearing and the three feet of snow they were moving through. Luckily though, whatever tracking system the aliens were using was crap at this range, or maybe crap for some other reason, but the important thing is that it was crap and nothing landed close enough to cause them problems. Then the shells stopped coming.

After retreating behind a small, exposed bedrock outcropping and quickly sighting in again the pair saw the alien ship come around for another pass over the town. The resulting firestorm was unlike anything that they had ever seen. It leveled the entire town center, the resulting shrapnel flying far into the river and as far as the tree line, ripping branches clear off.

Connor sighed, shaking his head. They had won, driven off a superior force with what by all appearances was superior firepower. But how many friends had they lost in the process?

“Come on, let’s go look for survivors,” he said. “And battle rifles out, there’s no telling if they left anyone behind.”

Mayflower Post Attack

“Don’t panic Jan, just get me down there. It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

Jan Christopher gave me one disbelieving look then returned to her controls. “How could it get worse? Aliens plus Goonies, the Colonel and the Master Chief down; Aliens doing crap we don’t understand and Karl dead. Why should I not panic?”

As we waited for the Dancer to dock, I tried my best to do what Clan Stuart had done for me. “Jan, our two best are down for this damn Flu and you know we carry the cure for that.

“Karl, if Andy is to be believed is, sitting in Fiddlers Green with a drink in his hand watching his Honor Guard march into Hell and it ain’t no small one. Ash and JoAnn are clearly down there working on the Command Circuits for the Docks and Mayflowers Comms.

“The Aliens bugged out because Strike Force and Karl kicked them right square in whatever passes for their teeth and they don’t know what they bit off. Then while that was going on, Jai and her Reserve Force were bleeding them Dry on Mayflower. How they did it I don’t know, like you, I am not a Warrior.

“I am a Doctor who learned to be a Sheepdog. What those people do is beyond my comprehension but I know this much; The guy you and others call ‘The Boss’ has never asked anyone to do more than their Job. You are a Pilot and I am a Doctor, get me to where I can do my job.”

Jan just nodded and put the Bus down next to the Dancer. Before we could draw down to vacuum, the Dancer crew was out in the main Bay and by the time our door opened we were well behind on the short range comms.

Ash and Al were working like a well-oiled crew and Ash saw us. “Jan, you ought to stay up here and help us. Doc, please tell me you have a cure for this damn flu?” He kept moving till he could trip in the line-of-sight infrared’s, “Keep telling me about the flu on normal channels and listen. I am going to keep Jan up here for one reason after the other. I do not want that Young Girl going down there, I know how Andy was going in and it ain’t gonna be for a Sheep to see.”

I had learned, my voice never wavered as I told everyone that they were going to have to come to pressure to get their shots and turned to Jan. “You are going to be more help up here than down there Pilot. Hell, you might even learn something.”

I went into the elevator and stepped out into Hell. Jai had obviously blown up a bunch in Her fighting retreat, I climbed over the rubble and things changed. I was glad Ash had stopped Jan on the upper dock. I had spent the equivalent of two Earth years learning to be a Combat Medic, add that to my Shock / Trauma experience and this place read like a book.

I knew now in my bones why people were afraid of Angel and The Reaper. I could tell you fairly confidently who had gotten whom. I got to where the destruction and trail of bodies ended quite easily and it stopped suddenly. Just on the other side of the improvised barrier lay the two most dangerous men alive, floored out by a simple dammed bug! I saw Mariana hovering over them with two IV’s already going.

“What you have up?” I asked.

“D5W and Ringers Lactate and shunts in both lines if we need more!”

“Great,” I grinned. “In all the years we have been doing this, there is nothing better for first response!” I pulled two syringes and popped them into the shunts as a push. “And there is nothing better as a transport for this, they will make it. This stuff is the gift from Kara’s skills, how she found that correlation I will never know.

“Now Doc, drop those pants and bend over, you don’t have a line in you so the best way is IM in a large fleshy area.”

“Kurt, if you even act like you are enjoying this; you will find out why I am Andy’s partner!”

“All I care about is getting somebody else healthy enough to do simple sticks. I know you have BS problems but, you should still be able to do simple sticks. Pull up your pants and just set and monitor these two.

“Now LTC, your turn to drop those pants.”

Main Dock

“Bridge, Ghost; If you give it a try I think you might be able to close the doors now. Working in air is a bit nicer and easier.”

“Ash, Monroe here. Not to mention that when we get them closed I can go see what your pack of young pirates did to my ship.”

“Monroe they ain’t mine. Andy and Glen came up with this plan. BTW any luck on tracking Glen’s ship?”

“We lost it when it went deeper into the belt, what we do think is that the shield was holding when we saw it last. What Andy is not going to want to see is the data on that damaged freighter you guys left out there. Something real damn big came and retrieved it and it was fast.

“Here comes the first try on the doors, BTW the status indicators are not working.”

“Got that Larry, looks like the sensors are shot and we need to be pressurized to fix those. The doors are closing but they are a bit slow. We might have lost a couple of motors. What happened here, I thought you were going to leave the doors open?”

“We did Ash but those things just popped out shooting kinda blindly. Those damn energy weapons can do some damage.”

“Yeah Larry, tell me about it. We have full closure indication, wantta trying bringing up the pressure real slow?”

“Sure, the pressure repeaters are still working so we can monitor from here. The damage up there is totally random, OK pressure appears to be holding. Get to work on the Comm links, my crew will come finish the mechanicals.”

“Good, make sure your people see Kellerman on the way up, he has a friendly needle waiting on them. I need to rotate my people down except for Jan who’s already been stuck.”

Port Side Main Corridor

Larry Monroe had moved quickly from the Bridge to here only to be stopped by Kurt Kellerman.

“Sorry CAPT Monroe, you don’t get past here without getting your vaccination.”

Monroe stared at a man that once had been almost universally disliked. What he saw was a haggard tired figure in the Black and Silver of Strike Force with the proud symbol of a Combat Medic on his chest. “Doc, if you even look like you are enjoying this.”

At that point a wavering raspy voice came out of the corner, “Don’t worry Larry; even in this shape I am faster than he is.”

Kellerman and Monroe turned to see the figure of Andy Stuart using his hands and heels to force his back up the wall to a sitting position. “Damn,” he rasped, “I need a drink.

“Kurt get Jai and Natasi up to speed, They have a SAR mission to fly!”

Monroe stared, “Andy, we don’t even know Glen is alive!”

Andy glared at him, “Then they bring me a body. Did you think ‘No Man Left Behind’ was jingoistic Bullshit?”

Gabe Benjamin groaned and said, “Andy, you have to stop finding these parties. The hangover is getting old!”

On A Plain Darkly:

Oh how she has come to sit solitary;
the city that was abundant with people!
How she has become like a widow,
she that was populous among the nations!
How she that was a princess among the cities
has come a vassal.
And weeps bitterly in the night…

Lamentations 1 - {Aleph}

A streak of light and a low-pitched rumble. It woke Aaron from an uneasy sleep and he went outside of the tent to scan the predawn sky, but instead saw his father poking at the fire. “Did you hear that father? Did you see anything?”

“It was the Satan; he has come to claim his own. There was one ship flying southwest towards the Yelsig. I think it will land there. After you went to sleep, I saw a similar light in the sky. I stayed awake and turned on the communicator. I heard broadcasts from space and from the city. Lester Reye sent us a message—listen.”

Dobswell tapped a spot on his com unit’s screen.

“To Jedediah Dobswell, or anyone on the southern continent; listen, this is Les Reye speaking for the Liberty Council. We have been attacked and suffered many deaths. The city is destroyed. The attacking forces were the UNWG troops we expected, but they were under the control of an alien race called Rogons. Except for information we are getting from a few captured UNWG forces, we have no certain knowledge of their ultimate intent. They are not Guardians though we have no way of ruling out whether or not they are directed or in league with them. To this point the Guardians have failed to answer our messages.

“In spite of our losses the Rogon’s and UN have withdrawn from the area around Liberty City, at least for the time being. This message is a warning and an offer to help you, should that prove possible. Watch the video and you will see why, even with our differences, I make this offer.”

Reye’s voice cut out and Aaron watched the display screen that his father had turned so they could both see the display. The video was disjointed and episodic but totally convincing. Explosions, fires, UN troops and pictures of a captured alien inside of a cave somewhere. The possibility of it being some kind of a fake was negligible. Then the voice came back.

“We fought a battle in the asteroid belt with some success but in the end had to withdraw to an inconclusive ending; the Mayflower was boarded but is still under our control. If they go your way and you surrender, it is our belief that you will be taken prisoner. You saw how the Rogon’s treat prisoners. I can promise you nothing right now except that we will continue to resist and I implore you to send no communication signals that would be traceable to your location. We are working on a way to establish a secure link.

“This recorded message is being sent from an unattended site, well away from wherever we might be. It will keep repeating until the batteries run down. Knowing you couldn’t even get along with us in the city, I have little doubt you will not freely join with the Rogons and UNWG. Until we can establish contact then, speaking for the Liberty Council and all free humans on Alchibah I say: Good luck and God Bless.”

The communicator went silent for a few seconds then the message started repeating as Jedediah hit the off button.

“What are we to do father? And Brother Edwards, does he know of this?”

“Brother Edwards has gone to speak with the Agorah. I asked that he bring Agorah and Hosham here to talk with us and he just said. “We will see.”

What a strange new world Hosham thought fleetingly, as one of the sentries awoke him from his sleep. The Soessossins had used sentries ever since the Guardians took them to this world the Humans called Alchibah, but they were only for protection from animals at night. No one was in over all charge of the camp area as he was now. Agorah, the aging leader of the tribe Agorah had become strangely silent and withdrawn. The recent changes to his world did not sit well and the Guardians no longer offered guidance. Even his wives were affected by how coldly aloof he had become.

A long lived society, consensus driven; it was seldom that the leadership changed. Since returning from the Tulari, Hosham had been consulted by the others more and more often concerning the tribe’s daily operation. There was an inevitability about the process that a being more introspective than he would have pondered. As it was, Hosham slipped into his new role without fanfare or ceremony. In a deeper sense however it seemed that the Humans, with their new ideas, especially the concept of religion and a higher power, a reveled truth, were on the verge of sweeping away all of the old ways and replacing them with something that was both exciting though still disturbing and as yet nebulous.

The organization of the newcomers impenetrable, Jedediah Dobswell was the titular leader, though his son Aaron, without challenging his father had a greater moral authority that Jedediah differed to. Cotton Edwards’ role was inexplicable. It was almost like he was actively seeking to undermine the others, though not always and Hosham could tell there was more to it than that. He was bending everything to point where he wished it to end. The limited ability the Soessossins possessed, which let them see into the hearts and minds of others, showed that Aarons vision burned bright, and in as strong a fashion, Edwards vision burned dark.

The fact that he was escorted to Hosham rather than Agorah did not seem to surprise Edwards in the least. He started right in. “Watch this Hosham,” he said, playing a copy of the recording sent from Liberty City.
Hosham was watching for a second time when a steak of light flashed across the sky heading in the direction of the camp of Yelsig and the tribe of Yelsig. It was a second ship.

* * *
Shintok; maytok-S, cradled in the observation station watched the UN crew working at the modified controls of the skull ship. They worked efficiently, carrying out his orders and the ship was a direct extension of his will. The Sheen handling punishment details would have little to do if things continued as they were. The attack have a planet away had gone poorly; there would be an additional price to pay. ‘maytok-S saw the working of fate, and insofar as he had not been involved was little concerned. Nothing would go wrong on the southern continent.

Information, reluctantly provided by the new slaves—they would learn— revealed the location of the major Soessossin encampment, and also the knowledge that two claws worth of Humans were also down here somewhere. The honor of taking the first slaves from a new race would be his and another primary broodline established. The skull ship landed at the Yelsig’s camp and slave troopers went pelting down the ramp.

Yelsig, leader of the Yelsig, pressed the gemlike center of the pendant he wore as a necklace and symbol of his leadership of all the Soessossins, a leadership increasingly in tatters. Once again, as each time he had done the same for half a year and more, there was no response. What had become of the Guardians? Could it be true, as was whispered, that Jehovah, God of the Humans, had banished them to someplace else, someplace so far away that they were powerless to intervene, or even to reply?

An amplified voice boomed from speaking instruments controlled from the ship. “This is Major Putnam, UNWG, acting under direction of Master Shintok; maytok-S. You are directed to lay down all weapons and submit to his authority. The leader of your race and clan’s presence is required at once.”

* * *
It was dark inside the ship, little brighter than the night outside, the air reeked with the smell of oil and decay. The smell of too many living beings, cooped in too small a space, for too long a time. Yelsig’s spear was taken from him but he was permitted to keep the contact device. A scan of some sorts was performed, Yelsig felt nerves and muscles twitch, and then a pentagram of Humans, one in front and two on either side and behind, led him out of the entry compartment. They went down a short corridor, up one level and to a room, roughly ovoid and twenty by thirty feet in extent. The air here was both hot and humid and the smells even more pronounced. Yelsig, ordered to stand at the room’s center, watched as two large beings, shaped more like Soessossins than Humans, entered from the front and the larger came towards him and stopped only feet away.

“Kneel sslave,” hissed the voice. It was strangely high pitched comming from such a large creature.

“We have done you no harm,” Yelsig began, when with a small movement of a claw on the lower, larger set of arms, caused the second Rogon to point a small device. And though he did not see it activate, a wave of pain rushed through Yelsig’s body, as he lost control and collapsed to the deck.

“Lesson one. Obedience must!” When Yelsig could again will his eyes to focus, the Rogon held a two foot long object, ending in a forked point and looking similar to what the Humans called a ‘fork’, and with it touched the end to the top of Yelsig’s head. And here came a second shock as powerful as the first, but this time without the pain. Yelsig could sense no thoughts whatsoever.

“Say you—‘sslave to Rogon, sslave to Shintok; maytok-S’.”

Yelsig said nothing and a wave of pain that put the first to shame wracked his body again.

“Say you!”

Silence once more and the pain continued. Five times the procedure was repeated before Yelsig broke and said the words.

* * *
Hosham watched the streak in the sky fall below the horizon then turned back to Edwards and said, “So what are we to do now?”

“We pack up, break camp, and move out in small groups, no more than ten should travel together. These Rogons look to be a bigger problem than the rest of the Soessossins or the people left on the other continent. Send Aram and Ephraim to help the old man and Aaron.” Edwards handed over a small com unit. “Have Joseph and Micah travel towards the Yelsig and warn any they encounter along the way. Make sure all the rest of the tribe do the same.”

Hosham thought for a moment then said, “Agorah, our leader, is old and confused; he will not take us into the wilderness.”

“Then I guess you’ve just become new leader of the tribe of Hosham then haven’t you?”

“No…That can not be. We will become the tribe of Aaron and the Lord Jehovah shall lead us.”

Cotton Edwards went back to his tent, packed, and with the help of Joseph and Micah, got his wife Helen and the others on their way. Three hours later, when the skull ship arrived, there was just one old Soessossin standing where the camp had been, silent and alone.

From the Kellerman Logs

Chris sat down and looked at Sally, “Do we leave them there or strip them and lock them in the back room?”

Sally gave that low evil chuckle that was her specialty, then leaned over and flipped a switch on the console. “If we leave them where they are at we can listen to them.”

Chris turned on the recorder, “I knew there was a reason I liked you. If your husband wasn’t so damn fast I might have to make a pass.”

“Yeah, he was a pleasant surprise after he came around. He’s probably the tenth fastest I have ever seen.”

Chris choked on his drink, “Tenth are you kidding me?”

“Nope and here comes number Seven. How’s it going Connor?”

In treatment the voices were going on tape. Voice One, “What the hell did we walk into?”

Voice Two, “It wasn’t the Valley nor the desert, but more than our Hoge en machtige Lords en de Meesters were ready for. That’s for Damn sure!”

Voice Three, “Damn it Ari you are gonna get us in trouble again.”

Voice Two, laughing, “Trouble? Trouble? With who? In case you missed it, Genie, our Adon-vervloekte Keepers and that verkakte tuchas lekker of a LT are history. Or are you referring to that wiry assed kerel. . ..” Voice one interjected “Dammit, Ari, speak English.” Voice One continued, over him, “with the Luitenant-Kolonel tabs on a fracking uniform that’s not supposed to exist anymore?”

Then two more of those impossible uniforms came in practically carrying a slightly Indian looking female.

Voice Two whistled softly, “Well I’ll be. Intel School may have bounced me like a bad Dinar, but if that doesn’t look like Sin Blackfeather, then slap me silly and stick me back in my Abba’s tents as an immature pup.”

The three turned and came into the room where the four where strapped and they got to see the Chest Patches all wore.

Voice One “Those are not supposed to be, it’s a crime to wear one of those dammed SF Patches.”

Voice Two “Clint, you always were a schlemiel, you know. I don’t think they give a shit what the Caliphs, Sultans, Presidents, or Governor-General of the UN calls a crime. The real question is do we, do I, want to know just how far this rabbit hole goes, or have we just jumped out of the fire into the frying pan? Only one way to find out.” A deep breath. “Hey! Hey, you eben ahbés! You just going to leave us tied up here? I may be crazy, but I’m not this kinky! If I’m getting reamed, at least kiss me!” A barely audible grunt. “Well, mijn lads, we’ll know now one way or the other.”

The big rangy female came over and smiled like a wolf. “You can call me Peepers, Asshole.

“If we should happen to get formal, it’s Major Davies, Strike Force Alchibah Rear Heavy. You don’t want to get formal because then you get to meet Scythe. The big guy in the corner and that’s damn near as bad as meeting Angel or the Reaper.”

Suddenly she grabbed his chin and locked his head in place and her eyes met his. Ari felt like his soul had just poured out through his eyes and she asked one question, “Do you want to live free?”

Locking on to her eyes, Ari felt things were finally getting somewhere. “Does a Camel shit in the Desert; because this one does. You’re damn right I want to live free.”

“Let him up Sally,” Peepers said. “He’s an asshole but, he’s our kind of asshole.”

Still looking into her eyes, Ari grunted a question. “What about these tipeshi? They may be schmendriks, but they’re harmless if smacked a few times. They’ve held my back fairly decently, so consider them.”

Peepers grunted, “They get to wait for Magic, I don’t have the time.”

Compiled from various Logs

We were driving hard in Decel but keeping it to three perceived so we did not lose what we had gained in the rest period. My concentration was broken by Ash screaming in my ears.

“Reaper, the ships are leaving; it looks like a Bug Out!”

“Crap, why would they be doing that? Do you have any Comms from the Mayflower yet?”

“Pardon me for pointing out that you are driving the Command Ship that has the steerable dish on it,” Ash drawled.

Fortunately, Mariana hit the kill switch on the transmitter while I turned the air blue and swung out the dish.

“Firebird, Reaper; Talk to me Girl!”

Broken and garbled through the mass of Mayflower came the reply, “About damn time Boss, we are getting pushed back here. They have some damn kind of shield. If we catch one by surprise we can splash it. Second shot don’t work worth a damn, Summer’s killed more with her knife than her guns.”

“And you got how many?” I drawled.

“My share Boss, my share!”

“Hold what you got Firebird, the ships have done a Bug Out and we will be there in ten. Stay Alive Girl, I don’t want to have to explain to your Father.”

“Reaper, Firebird; hurry, we are FidoFlued out the ass and we don’t have much left!”

I knew my voice sounded grim, “Inbound Firebird, keep your head Down. BREAK!

“Angel, you and I break and burn hard to match velocities. I would love to have a couple of Prisoners, think you might be able to handle that Big Guy?”

“If we can last long enough against this shit, no problem. What are you going to do?”

I turned, “Give me your knife Mariana. Gabe; Steel Cold Steel shall be the Master of them All.”

From the speaker came, “I think you are stealing my call sign but, give em Hell,” came Al Steel’s cold voice.

Mariana and Kat fought us down to the docks as Gabe and I readied to launch. We found the upper docks unoccupied and grabbed two separate Elevators down to the Main Bay. We launched out of the elevators behind a double Flash Bang toss. The place looked like the Middle Tail Race of Hell. Rubble was everywhere and the hall leading into the belly of the Mayflower was blown to Hell and only partly dug out. Alien bodies were everywhere as well as many Humans.

“Angel, let’s go get our Girl; OK?”

Gabriel Benjamin stared into the face of Death Incarnate, “OK, we need a couple of Prisoner’s Right?”

“Yeah, you take em; I am going to find Firebird.”

Angel moved up the corridor behind the wave of destruction. An Alien stuck his or it’s ugly head out of a side corridor. Gabe grabbed it and slammed it’s head against the corridor wall; “OK, not quite that hard Gabe,” as the brain matter oozed down the wall.

Gabe ran up the corridor, stopping only to slam the occasional Alien head into the walls with what he knew now was the appropriate force while, he tried hard to follow the Angel of Death. Andy was in The Reaper mode for sure. Gabe had only heard about Tehran and had seen Asteroid 5488 up close and personal. Andy had gone flat fracking Berserker. He was going to Firebird though all of Hell and the Devil stood between.

Guns holstered and rifles slung, The Reaper went up the corridor with Energy Knives in hand and the carnage was a sight to behold. It made no difference if you were Goonie or Alien.

Stand and Die…. The Reaper had come for you.

There were a couple of live Humans and Aliens laying in the corridors arms wrapped about their heads whimpering, Gabe just let them stay where they were for Ryu and May to deal with.

Suddenly he stopped, “LT Colonel, you had better assume Command. I think my Ass is out of it,” Andy grunted.

At that point in time he passed out!

Gabriel looked at Jaisa Benjamin (soon to be Pierce), “So now you know how Andy got that call sign!”

Jai’s voice rang out, “Medic, the Boss is down!” As she turned to look up the corridor she heard a thump and spun back to see her Uncle Gabe also in a heap on the deck.

Then she heard the greatest thing she thought she had ever heard.

“Kellerman here, two minutes from the dock. All I have to do is clean the puke off.”

“Kurt Hurry but, I am already here,” said Mariana as she stepped through the bulkhead. “Kat, Ryu and May are back there tying up the smart ones.”

“The smart ones?” Jai asked with a quizzical look.

“The one’s who dropped their weapons and quit,” Mariana said as she hung the IV bag. “Damn I wish he would not do this; both of them.”

Jai stared, “What drives them this way? I didn’t think that either of them were capable of that much hate.”

Mariana turned dumbfounded, “Hate, Girl hate can’t make Men do this. Hell Andy only truly hates one person in the universe and he passed on a chance for him to get back here. Listen to this?”

Mariana took the Comms recorder off of her belt and manipulated the controls until she had the stream where she wanted it. Then she held it up for Jai to hear.

It was a pair of voices that Jai knew all to well but there was a tone in them that she had never heard.

“Angel, let’s go get our Girl; OK?”

“OK, we need a couple of Prisoner’s Right?”

“Yeah, you take em; I am going to find Firebird.”

“Jai, did you hear any hate in there?” Mariana asked.

Jai had her turn to be stunned, “They sounded worried, even scared. But those two are never scared.”

Mariana gave her that Teachers look, “Not for themselves no. But for what they love, they live in fear. That’s what makes them Wolves and what lets them live in the Garden.”

Mike Reye came in to see a sight he had never seen, Jai “Firebird” Benjamin with tears rolling down her face being hugged by Mariana “Magic” Stuart. He decided to just leave.

The Mayflower

Complied from various log files

There was a final metallic grinding as the second set of elevator doors was forced open. The sound of boots, human boots, echoing as the enemy forces boarded the Mayflower proper was overwhelming. How many were there? And were there really aliens with them?

Thoughts raced through the heads of the four young soldiers crouched behind the heavy, sandbag filled metal crates that were now blocking the hallway leading into the rest of the ship, set about fifty feet back. They had been loaded onto the asteroid-ship for just such an occasion. Kaye’s finger was hovering over the detonator that would set off the fragmentation charges he had planted all around the entry room while the other three had their battle rifles at the ready. Orders were being called out from down the hall, some in human voices, others in voices that were clearly not.

Amateurs.

Jai bellowed down the hall. “This is Lt. Col. Benjamin with Strike Force Alchibah. You have ten seconds to surrender. I suggest for your sake that you oblige. Ten!”

One of the deep, non-human voices responded, though it didn’t seem directed at her. “Slave-soldier is, resisting is,”

“Nine!”

The voice continued, “Resisting must not,”

“Eight!”

“Resisting must not!” the voice barked angrily. Now that was directed at her, and it seemed almost annoyed.

“Seven!” she responded.

“You’re outnumbered and outgunned,” came a gruff human voice.

“Six!”

“Surrender now and you’ll be treated humanely.”

“Five!”

“Hunger is,” another (barely audible) alien voice muttered.

“Four!”

Then a volley of bullets slammed into the other side of their makeshift barricade, and another. Jai looked at Dustup and nodded grimly. He twitched his thumb and the entry hall exploded, the dozen charges he placed minutes before ripping through air and flesh indiscriminately. Cries of agony, both human and incredibly alien, could just be heard over the din.

Twenty minutes later

The wounded had all either died or been moved back up the elevators, though it was hard to tell which in the dim, flickering light that now filled the entry room. Jai and the others were taking turns, two at a time, sniping anyone stupid enough to enter their view down the hallway. There hadn’t been much noticeable movement or noise to speak of for quite some time, with only the occasional soft boot-step or shift in rubble to break the silence. What Jai wouldn’t do for a remote camera.

Then suddenly Summer yelled, “Down!” pulling the others to the floor just as a rocket of some sort streaked towards them and slammed into the wall just in front of their barricade, sending a billowing cloud of flames barely over their heads and showering them with rubble. Two more followed in quick succession. All four of them were bleeding, and Mike had a gash above his right eye that was simply pouring blood.

And then they heard, of course, the last sound they wanted to hear at that moment; rushing boots, and lots of them.

“Cover!” Jai roared, not knowing if her companions could even hear her let alone fight. She went into overdrive like Gabe and Andy had taught her shot to her feet, a Mk II submachine gun in both hands, shrugging off both the rubble covering her and the pain throbbing through her. The scene in front of her slowed to a near standstill as she rose, dust and debris falling off of her. She was aware of each speck of what had mere seconds ago been the wall next to her falling slowly toward the ground as Summer and Kaye inched to one knee to cover her. Mike was not moving.

There were more than a dozen WG troops charging in slow motion down the hall towards their position as she finally snapped into position, arms outstretched in front of her. She pulled first one trigger and then the other, sending three round bursts at the invaders as they fell, one by one. A few managed to get a shot off, though between herself, Thorn and Dustup not many managed even that.

“Retreat!” she roared, though mostly for the goonies’ benefit. And, sure enough, as Kaye and Summer hustled Mike’s groggy form around the corner and she sent stray bullets back the way they came another contingent of troops, this time accompanied by several many-limbed, vaguely snake-like creatures. Just as she was rounding the corner one of them sent some sort of concentrated plasma bolt towards her, narrowly missing and instead turning part of the wall’s metal sheeting molten.

She gave the signal to Kaye.

Click.

Boom.

The walls trembled and a cloud of dust flew out of the hallway they had just left. Assuming Kaye and Summer had done their job right the ceiling just collapsed on most of the contingent following them, leaving the few survivors trapped on the inside of the cave in and the majority of the boarding crew forced to dig their way through to continue the assault. Jai could hear coughing and groans coming from the around the corner. She motioned for Kaye to continue to the next barricade with Mike as she and Summer readied to take the remaining troops.

She inched closer to the corner, her back to the wall and her battle rifle ready. Summer was crouched just in front of her, ready to spring if the time came to kill the remaining soldiers on their side of the rubble. Hopefully it wouldn’t.

Jai shouted around the corner, turning her head towards the sounds of the survivors. “You’re overmatched,” she yelled, “and you don’t have to die here. Throw your weapons to our end of the hall and raise your hands above your heads. If you can’t do that put your hands on top of your head. Anyone not complying will get one between the eyes. Understood?” She heard a small commotion and several solid thuds, and then a half a dozen rifles and a slew of pistols came skittering down the hall.

“Lt. Col., we’re ready to be taken prisoner,” came a strong voice. “The Ro- the aliens are unconscious.”

Summer nodded, and the two young women shifted quickly around the corner, prepared to take out any soldiers that hadn’t complied. There were none. Four WG soldiers stood with their arms raised, one sat slumped against a wall, bleeding badly, with his hands trembling on his head, and one lay face down with his fingers interlocked on his head as well – one of his legs was pinned under the rubble. And then there were two of the unfamiliar, alien figures lying unconscious on the floor. One was bleeding (if that’s what it was – the liquid was green) from what looked like a hard blow from the butt of a rifle. Jai raised an eyebrow at the rather young, chiseled Lt.

“Been wanting to do that for a long time,” he smiled sheepishly. “Lt. Beckett. Now if you don’t mind me askin’, could you get on with it and frisk us? Issacs here,” he nodded towards the soldier laying against the wall, “ain’t gonna last long without some medical attention.” Jai nodded, keeping her rifle high, and Summer slung her rifle over her back, pulled out a sidearm and started doing just that.

“They’re clean.”

“Good. Now you four,” she gestured towards the soldiers still standing, “get your buddy’s leg out from under the rubble. Summer, take care of Issacs here.”

There were some vague sounds coming from the other side of the pile of rubble, but only a word here and a word there were actually audible. Then, just as they freed the soldier’s (Miller’s) leg form under the rubble, what sounded very much like an argument broke out.

“Foxx Pak is!” one alien voice insisted, the first of the conversation that Jai could make out.

“Foxx Pak is not!” a second voice disagreed.

“Foxx Pak is. Rebellion must be! Dangerous is, rebellion must be!” the first voice shot back.

“Foxx Pak is not! Green Mow’ntaan Boys is not! Rebellion is not. Worse is, worse is! New, likelihood is,” the second voice replied, agitated.

Jai laughed softly. Looks like the old gang back on Earth was still up to no good.

“Come on, march. You two, get Issacs. Beckett, help Miller. And I don’t need to remind you boys, no funny business or sudden moves. I’m right behind you. Summer, lead the way.”

Two hours later

At first the Rogons (as Beckett said they were called) tried blasting their way through the rubble, until they realized that was only bringing more down on top and making their job harder. Since then the sounds of them steadily digging away had been echoing down the halls to the second choke point they had set up.

Mike’s head was bandaged and he was fine, and the rest of them were all a little banged up but still in working order as well. The prisoners had been put in a small supply room a little ways back from the barricade. Isaacs was getting feverish, though Summer had bandaged him up and given him a hit of quick heal, and Miller’s ankle looked broken. The other four goonies were doing fine, and the two aliens were (with a little encouragement from Mike) still unconscious.

The funny thing about the whole situation was that while Jai knew that the UNWG troops were in with the aliens, now that they were captured and no longer shooting at them it felt like they were actually on the same side. Maybe it was that they were humans. Now that there was another species gunning for their ass it was a little harder to look at the goonies as, well, goonies, and a little easier to look at them simply as other humans. And of course it didn’t hurt that Beckett had slugged the two Rogons with his rifle, and then, after being tied up, proceeded to tell everything he knew about the Rogons, their current plans and the invasion of Earth. Though unfortunately that second part was the least informative.

“Lt. Col. Benjamin,” Beckett began, after he had answered all the immediate questions Jai had, “I would like a word with you in private. As the commanding officer of the prisoners I have that right.”

Jai nodded and shouted over her shoulder for Summer to take over watching the prisoners. She untied the lieutenant from his chair and then nodded for him to follow her.

They walked down the hall to the next door and Jai pushed it open.

“After you,” she placed her hand on one of her pistols, “I insist.” He went inside.

“So, what is it?” she asked. “And why so formal? That was the first time in two hours you called me Lt. Col.”

“That was mostly for the others. They’re not overly fond of the Rogons, so telling you what I did was safe, but I wanted to make sure they didn’t think too hard about why I wanted to talk with you alone.”

“All right, you’ve got my attention,” she replied. “Have a seat and tell me what’s on your mind.”

He sat down on a crate in the cramped storage room and grinned.

“You’re Jaisa Benjamin, the daughter of Connor Benjamin, aren’t you? Niece of Angel, good friend to Fox and Wraith?”

It was her turn to sit. She collapsed onto a crate opposite him, stunned. How the hell did he know those names?

“You ever met Lion?”

She stared at him. “The leader of the European Resistance. Irish guy. Yeah, I met him a few times. Why?”

“He spoke very highly of you. He was impressed that anyone your age could handle what you were handling. I didn’t get involved in the movement until I was seventeen.” She looked at him questioningly. “Eamon Lyons,” he awkwardly extended his hand, which was of course tied to his other hand, “Galbraith Lyons’ son. Or as you know him, Lion.” She took his hand and shook it, still in disbelief.

“How?” she started.

“How do you know I’m not lying?” he finished for her. “My da told me to tell anyone out here that was in the resistance, if I ever got a chance to, the Lion howls at the moon and the Fox travels in a pride.”

“And the Angel watches over all,” she finished, trailing off.

“We’re gonna have company!” Mike bellowed from the hall. Jai raced out the door with Eamon just behind her.

“Kaye, tie this one up and lock the door.” She turned back to the barricade. “Mike, what’ve we got?”

“Sounds like they broke through. They’re still shifting rubble, but you can hear at least a few on this side.”

“Time to dig in then. The hall’s long enough and I think that corner’s tight enough that they shouldn’t be able to pull the missile stunt again. And try to not kill the humans if you can avoid it. Don’t take any chances, but disable when you can. They don’t seem all that thrilled to be here. It seems the Rogons are the real enemy now.”

Kaye jogged back to the barricade and the four young soldiers crouched behind the makeshift barrier, rifles at the ready, waiting for the next wave to come. When they came the four fought with bullet, blade and body, teeth bared into the storm. Lord knows they were ready to die. But they wouldn’t, not that day.

…

Summer was wiping the green blood from the most recent wave off her knife as Jai’s radio erupted in her ear, “Firebird, Reaper; Talk to me Girl!”