One of Ari’s worst fears was the inability to protect himself. Being captured then tied down, even in “escaping” the UNWG, exacerbated that fear. Listening to the inane chatter of his teammates, and what their remaining devotion to the Goonies could do, Ari knew it was time for an intervention. He just hoped it was fast and merciful if not good.

“Hey,” he shouted, thinking ‘In for an Agorot, in for a Shekel.’ “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!” Looking at his team, he softly continued “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.”

For a split second, Ari considered answering her but thought better of it as she launched into a more detailed introduction. He tuned her out, weighing the possibilities that this was a good turn of events, and if not, how to best get loose and fight back. His internal dialog was interrupted as she suddenly grabbed his face, forcing him to look into her eyes. They bored into him. “Do you want to live free?”

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

To Ari, time seemed to stand still. Still locking eyes with Peepers his awareness expanded; the silent stares of his squad, the actions of the Colonists, the sound of melting snow dripping onto the floor, the smell of charred flesh and clothing. Clint, a UNWG True Believer, with his slack-jawed stare at the exchange, while Tomas and Alex tried to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible while still tied to the examination beds. Tomas was useful, a savant, but always a beat behind in picking up on the unobvious. Alex was competent, but otherwise a blank. Across the room, Blackfeather was having a bandage wrapped around her torso and receiving injections, while her teammates bandaged each other. ‘Interesting,’ Ari would later think, remembering the scene, ‘mixed doubles.’ The four, Blackfeather, Peepers, and the two males in old US military uniforms, would be gone in less than a minute, once Peepers made her decision. Time snapped back into motion, almost audibly.

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

***
Thirty minutes earlier.

“You, Corporal, are an asshole.” Lieutenant Tregar didn’t vocalize that statement, but thought it very aggressively towards the team leader standing in front of him. Tregar had finally had a Rogon talk to him – something he dearly wished for, as it held the promise of more – only to find out that backstabbing son of a bitch platoon sergeant had already dispersed Second Platoon. “I’ll have to recommend to our Masters to abolish the multinational forces; I am positive my Dutch sergeant deliberately left me with this problem Dutch-Arab mongrel and the shittiest fire-team of the whole platoon,” he decided, as Corporal (recently demoted, if one did not take into account stasis-time) Ari al-Yamar threw a sloppy salute.

“At ease, Corporal. You and your team are to accompany me with our Shintok Masters,” Tregar, while a fine specimen of a sycophant, was unable to distinguish between one Rogon and another, “to the southwest where there is some type of bunker. I’ve selected you especially for this task so Don’t. Screw. Up. Do you understand me?”

“Ik begrijp en zal niet tevredenstellen. Boerelul.”

“What was that, Corporal?”

“Jawohl, Luitenant.” Ari threw out his left arm, clearly enjoying Tregar’s agitation.

“Corporal – if you make it out of this alive, so help me…”

“Follow,” the lead Rogon hissed, and began the trek towards the colonist’s bio-lab. Quickly, Tregar fell into place, with Ari’s team more than a few steps behind. “Hurry UP, Corporal!” Ari hand-signed for his team to move at full speed, all the while wondering “what the hell am I doing with these nebbishes?”

***
“Ari, how is it that you of all people get to be untied?”

Ari sighed and rose, not turning to look at his teammate. “Stuff it before I shove a sock in there, Clint. You really are a schmuck, aren’t you?” ‘Now,’ he thought, ‘what to do to be useful without looking suspicious doing it.’ His squad, still bound where they lay, hissed quietly among themselves. ‘I’m going to have to kill that one before he gets the others killed,’ he silently resolved. Looking around, Ari gained his bearings. There was activity around some of the wounded; Blackfeather’s team brought in some children that were apparently injured in the attack. Still more were being brought in by others, or more were about to be if he overheard right. There were already some twelve or so bodies already there, in death’s embrace.

A body off to the left moaned, one of the few wounded amongst the dead. On moving closer, it was a man, badly burned and bleeding. While there was an IV drip in what was left of his arm, as far as Ari could make out it was only a palliative, a morphine drip. “What did the klojo do to you, kerel?” Ari whispered. Second and third degree burns covered the body, or what was left of it. The left hand, and most of both legs below the knees, were gone, the burns all but cauterizing the amputations. The stench of burned hair and clothing clung to him, assaulting Ari’s nostrils.

“Karen,” the man moaned, mishearing Ari, “Karen…” He started moving, threatening the IV’s tenuous hold on his vein. “Easy now. She’ll be all right,” Ari tried, hoping to calm him, “Just hold still, the medics are coming.” There were women, or so it appeared, among the burned dead. Without more information, the safe presumption was she lay dead. Not for the first time that day, the thought ‘Vervloekte Rogons’ crossed Ari’s mind. Looking around, he saw a canister piled amid the supplies. Whispering a prayer, Ari grabbed it, and was rewarded with his find; a gel burn blanket, ready for use. “Neuken! Hold still,” he told the whimpering form while trying to get the blanket to cover him without disturbing the IV. When Ari was reasonably satisfied that all was secure, he crouched next to the form. “Hey, guy… hey kerel, what’s your name.”

No answer – no moans either.

Ari leaned in, barely an inch from the man’s lips. No sound of breathing. Maybe a feel… no, too much air movement in the room. He was gone. With a sigh, Ari stood. “I’m sorry. I tried. I’m … I’m sorry.” He looked around; not more than a few minutes had elapsed through it all, everyone else was engrossed in their own tribulations. “Well, Kerel, it’s just you and me. I don’t know what you believe, but I’ll give you what I can. “Yis’ga’dal v’yis’kadash sh’may ra’bbah…”

On Board Rogon Starship
Alchibah star system:

Lew DeWalt settled deeper into the chair “My, that’s some good scotch much better than any we’ve got” The mug in his hand, although designed for coffee, was quite suitable for a double malt scotch on the rocks.

“One thing we had on Orion was plenty of cargo space, and we stocked up for a long voyage” Hunter St. James continued, changing the subject “I can’t believe they couldn’t come up with a better name than Deathfang, anything would be better than that.”

“You have to understand sir, they’re all kids…hell, I’m really still a kid” DeWalt began to explain “When the snakes came, I had just graduated from OCS; Your fleet was already preparing to go to the black hole… So the UN surrendered, and you left…what? about 30 days later” The Navy Captain simply nodded to the Army Captain, DeWalt went on

“At first things didn’t change much, people just kept watching tri-V and didn’t notice.” He took a drink before continuing “The first problems began in the Muslim states, the Rogons began to purge all the UN leadership and the Muslims had the most to lose. Peacekeeping turned to reprisals, it got real nasty. There was, and still is, lot’s of trouble in South America, and the Alliance of Independent States is in open revolt, but it’s guerrilla war… on again, off again. Anyway, the Rogons cleaned out all the top brass too, army majors on up, navy about the same; You’re not just senior officer here… You’re senior officer anywhere.”

Hunter pondered this information; he posed his question carefully trying not to show his anxiety “So was the whole world in revolt? Wasn’t there quiet anywhere?”

“Oh sure in India they got practically delirious…seems eight legged gods are part of their religion, they love the Rogons. And North America and Europe aren’t nearly as messy as some places, though there are rumors that the Rogon brass are actually having the most trouble behind the scenes there. I don’t know if it’s true or not, but I’ve heard they’ve had some serious problems with the anti-UN rebel groups.”

“Anyhow the result is a young military with a lot of police actions under our belts; things had quieted down a lot most everywhere but the AIS by the time we left… just over two years after you.”

St. James pounced on that “Two years how could you get here that fast”

The Army captain explained “It actually took us about 10 months I’m told, but most of that was at light speed. Time slows down, so it seemed like about 10 weeks, we’ve been dogging you the last 4″

“Right I should have figured that out myself, but I’ve had a lot on my mind” But what was on St. James mind was calculating the trip home.

It was a bad time for an interruption as an UNWG corporal popped open the door “Snake coming sirs!” he said “It’s the one that talks”

DeWalt came up out of his chair “Be ready for anything sir, this won’t be good.”

At that point a Rogon entered the room, St James sensed a smoothness about the alien unlike any he’d met before, but he totally unprepared for what happened next.

“Captain St. James” the being said “I’ve waited so long to meet you” hunter was speechless but the alien didn’t seem to expect a response ” I am Shintok; krett-N, but call me krett…I’ve studied your race my entire life; so naturally when we planned this trip I made it a point to look up your file. I was so impressed I made a little project of studying you, what an amazing career you’ve had… the man who crushed the Ceres rebellion, and now I get to meet you”

Hunters head was spinning “That was a complicated, unpleasant mess I never wanted it to turn out the way it did” he said

“Of course not” replied the alien humanologist “But you did your duty as a man of honor will. We Rogons share that quality with the best of your kind…knowing where duty and loyalty belong”

“Well thank you I guess” Hunter began, but the Rogon was not quite finished “While I was studying your life, I made a little trip to San Diego, to visit your family”

For a second, the universe froze…time froze…the infinite blackness of space closed in…but just for a second.

“Sharon?” his voice was barely a whisper, the alien seemed not to hear for by some magician’s sleigh of hand, he produced a glass ball between two claws.

“Oh don’t worry, they are just fine, take a look” and from the little globe a perfect hologram was projected into the air between them.

Blue sky met the blue sea and waves gently broke on a sun lit beach. In the distance a green finger of land extended into to sea. He knew this beach, it was Coronado Island with Point Loma beyond, but he wasn’t concentrating on the background.

In the center of the field of view a pretty blond woman stood with two teen age girls, the girls were waving furiously and he could see they were speaking, without sound, he still heard their voices “Hi Daddy” they were saying in his head. A Rogon moved into to picture—It was krett.

The scene collapsed, the Rogon reached out and dropped the ball into Hunter’s shaking hand “It’s your’s” he said “Now perhaps we can talk about your mission?”

Planet Alchibah
The southern sky

Dragonhead ship 8 was streaking downward through the thickening atmosphere of planet Alchibah. Her approach path was almost due north having begun over the southern pole. A green nimbus of energy over 400 yards across surrounded her producing extra drag and a fiery wake to help reduce her velocity. As she reached her destination, she came to a complete stop and then gently settled to the ground just outside of the Rogon camp on the southern landmass.

The body of the ship glowed slightly and the sound of hull plates crackling from re-entry heat could be heard as portals dilated below each stubby wing. Strange multi-limbed creatures emerged and began to move to the camp. A careful observer would have noticed that of the two dozen or so, aliens, four held close together apparently to help one of their number whose ability to walk on so many limbs was obviously impaired.

As the aliens by ones and twos and the four passed through openings in the protective energy screen enclosing the camp, the sinister looking ship rose again into the air and returned to space the way she had come.

Shintok; elron-A was not the kind of reptile to question his world, but lately strange things had been happening to him, things he somehow needed to understand. He and his broodmates had come to this world, Urruth-not, for adventure and to help return these lost slaves to their rightful condition of Rogon domination.

But the slaves had done the unthinkable; they had attacked elron and his fellow Rogon soldiers, actually hunting them like prey! The most impossible thing of all, fragments from a slave thrown grenade had struck elron’s broodmate huk, seriously injuring his right upper leg socket.

Try as he might, elron could not imagine why anyone would try to hurt himself or his broodmates. Deep in his sub conscious fearful memories of his pre-childhood, an amphibious stage of life when he had been hunted by predators in the warm seas of Rogoss were trying to emerge.
Every Rogon kept such memories buried deep, very deep.

The Rogon doctor had done good work to repair huk’s mangled leg joint, but huk would still need time to heal. After finding space in one of the tents for huk and his broodmates, elron proceeded alone to the main dragonhead ship to find some answers.

Pipes and cables of all sorts had been brought out of every portal and opening in the ship, feeding power to the shield generators and various other equipment in the camp. Elron made his way into the ship to a particular compartment within and activated the security mechanism that would permit him entry.

The space beyond the door was empty with one exception, a naked slave was lying in one corner curled in upon itself, a short cable connecting the slave to a cleat on the wall. Erb Neilson jerked upright as soon as the alien entered. He quickly retreated into to corner, as if to squeeze into a hole that wasn’t there, his hands instinctively covering his manhood.

“Get away from me! I told you everything! Keep away! Please don’t hurt me again” His words made no sense to elron, this was just more strangeness.

“Slave attack Shintok, reason is?” elron began “huk hurt is, huk slave hurts not, human word…why is?”

Neilson’s fear only increased “Oh God! You’re crazy! I don’t know anything, let me alone, I…Don’t…Know…Anything!”

elron had had enough contact with humans to know that something was wrong with this one; his keening sense could feel the slave shivering and his muscles tensing and twitching. elron moved closer bending down towards the slave, all four arms reaching out in case the slave attacked.
“Slaves fight Shintok… slaves kill Shintok… slaves hurt huk… human word… why is?”

“Noooooo! Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me! We’re not slaves… we’re not slaves, damn you! This is our home. Go away! Please just go away”

Suddenly a new voice, a commanding voice was heard (in rogonese) “Slave away from must, obedience must, slave valuable is, damage not!” For this was the voice of Jaric; tilmer-N and he was accustomed to being obeyed. “Shintok… withdraw beyond portal, answers to me is”

And then, as both Rogons left the room and the door closed silently behind them; Erb Neilson slumped to the floor and began to cry.

Complied from Various Logs

Gabriel Benjamin

Kat and I were shoveling down canned Slizzard like it was the only food we had ever seen when Andy and Mariana came into the room. Their movements were almost machine like and purposeful. They went to the bar and grabbed not Booze but, Coffee; to which Andy added a heroic amount of sugar.

Strangely they went to an unoccupied table in the corner and both of them pulled padds out of their cargo pockets and were working on them as they started eating. Kat, beside me gasped so loud I could hear it. I asked her, “What?”

She looked up at the ceiling for a moment and then answered in the coldest most level voice I had ever heard her use.

“Gabe, I am not in Mariana’s league when it comes to the Mental side of this crap we all share that’s been proven. But, I can sense MPD personality splits every time. Those two have somehow reintegrated.

“The problem is that I have studied up on this stuff; I worry about you people OK? The only thing that the Big Brains think can cause a reintegration is a threat greater than the Trauma that caused the split in the first place. What the hell happened to them?”

It was my place to sit stunned, there was only one thing. “Kat, how bout a threat on their Twins?”

She sucked in breath and held it for a moment, “These Assholes scare them?”

“Welcome to the Real World Kat, they are in full time Wolf Mode. I think it’s going to be a wild ride around here!”

Andrew Stuart

I stared at my padd like it was an Oracle as it poured forth data. I tried to integrate it as I shoveled in food. This was a damn nightmare that seemingly had no end. What we had from initial interviews from captured Goonies painted a picture of an unbeatable enemy. But, as I paused maybe that was the one edge we had. If they believed that also, maybe we did not have to win.

Maybe all we had to do was crack that shell of confidence. Maybe all we had to do was make them believe what we were prepared to do. An old song Grandpa had played for me began to echo in my brain; “How Many of Them Can We Make Die?” was like a loop tape in my mind.

OK it’s the longest shot I have ever played but, at least it’s a plan. Crap, it might even work. I stood and motioned for Gabe and Kat to come join us. They both shrugged and gave me a grin I didn’t understand. While they were gathering up their stuff to move over Ash and JoAnn came in and loaded up at the bar and began coming our way as Ryu and May entered the room as well.

I waited until everyone was starting to slow down on the food intake and began to brief the situation. I pulled no punches over what it looked like we faced. Then started on our side and my glimmer of a plan.

“But, stop and consider what they have seen. We blew their earth built contingent, even with what had to be new shields, out of space so fast I hope they have it on tape so they can slow it down to look at it. We have to have hurt or at least stung them down on Alchibah or they would not have bugged out. And we know for sure they are never going to hear from the crowd they left here, unless we want them to. So, how do you call it Ash?”

Ash rolled his eyes and stared at the overhead. You never knew what you were going to get when he did this. It might be the Wild Child Fighter Jock, the theoretical Mathematician who was going to make everyones head hurt or the Worlds Worst Poker Player. We got the Poker Player.

“Well Cuz, we know the other guy has to have at least Cowboys in the hole. The flop is coming down and he cannot know that we don’t have Bullets in the hole. Bump Him and see if he blinks. Just for god’s sake don’t make me play the cards, we’ll lose.”

Al Steele and Corrine Williams slid into the open seats as Al quipped, “Thank God you ain’t playing them Ash. I am pretty sure Andy is our face at the table. You are talking a flat out Rourke’s Drift stand aren’t you? What if they call your bluff?”

Mariana was the one who answered, “What if We are not bluffing Al?”

Al’s jaw dropped. “You are talking about Kamakazing that SOB aren’t you?”

I stared him in the eyes, “If that’s what it takes Al, you can bet your Ass!”

On Board Rogon Starship
Alchibah Star system:

Shintok; krett-N paced back and forth in front of the prostrate form of Richard Redmond.

“Report slave” the Humanologist from an alien world commanded.

“Master I have made contact with my agent on Urruth not. He will do my bidding, and help to bring the rebellious slaves to our rule”

krett was not impressed “you may call this world Alchibah, its inhabitants do. We have interrogated quite a few of your rebels by now; your spy had better be able to provide superior information than that of the captives. We do not wish to be disappointed with you again.”

Redmond bowed even lower “Do not worry master I will not fail you this time”

The Rogon scientist bowed down himself, his cruel reptilian face close to Redmond’s, “No you won’t…we have studied you humans for thousands of your years, and always there have been men such as you, men consumed with hunger for power over others. In the time of the Pharaohs, during your inquisition, the rise of communism, creatures such as you made themselves our slaves, to satisfy evil ambition. No we have no doubt you’ll serve us well”

“Master! I swear I wish only to serve the great Rog…” But he had no chance to finish

“Silence!” roared out the Rogon, only inches from Redmond’s ears, “Obedience is!” krett regained his composure and spoke quietly again”
We who study you, understand your morality, in fact we find much to be admired in what humans have learned, A Rogon like Shintok; maylock-A sees you as just another slave, but I understand why your fellow slave despise you, and I agree, but that is why you are useful to us. Do not try to fool me with empty flattery”

Richard Redmond was not used to such abuse, but in his twisted mind these words were reassuring. As long as the Rogons needed him they would let him have power over the other humans, and the enjoyment over such power would be even sweeter.

Meanwhile, On the bridge:

“You see Captain, the snakes, err Rogons that is… they seem to be an all volunteer outfit; So when they decided to send this big mother through the black hole, none of em wanted to come” The person speaking was a short red headed woman in her late 20’s, dressed in the coveralls of a UNWG naval officer.

Hunter St. James leaned over the handrail of the balcony and looked down at the room below him, a dozen people manned consoles and instruments of human design while most of the bizarre alien machinery was unattended. Only one Rogon could be seen and he was apparently meditating. “What do you mean, none of them wanted to come, what exactly did they want to do?” he asked.

“Ensign Taylor’s right Captain,” answered Lew DeWalt “After the initial conquest, a lot of the Rogons developed a fascination with cattle ranching; half their invasion force is playing beef inspector in Argentina”

“So your saying this ship is totally manned with our people” Hunter replied

“Not exactly sir,” began ENS. Taylor “The Rogons could run her if they wanted to, and most of the operation is automated, but yes, right now it’s an all human crew.”

“So what’s the total naval compliment?” ask St. James

“We have 175…159 ratings and 16 officers, LT CMR. Antonovich being senior… until you came that is” she paused briefly “Anyhow we need a minimum of 80 to man the Deathfang and 10 to 15 for each dragonhead with 6 medical personnel that left us a little short…again until you came along sir”

St. James thought about this for a moment “One more question…why do they call her Deathfang?”

Ensign Wendy Taylor of the UNWG Navy turned a shade of bright red “Actually they don’t sir, the Rogons don’t name their ships, or if they do they don’t tell us…We sorta had a contest”

“I see” said St James, although he really didn’t “Very well Ensign you have the bridge, carry on. Captain lets adjourn to my cabin”

“Aye Aye, I have the bridge… Captain off the bridge”

Joseph and Micah traveled rapidly in a westerly direction. The land inhabited by the Yelsig was two weeks away at their best rate of speed. Joseph, due to the expedition to the Tulari, was versed in rapid travel over hostile terrain. They carried most of the supplies they would need. Dried meat did not give the same mingled sense of power and magic that blood from warm flesh gave, but it still provided far more energy than the totally vegetarian diet they used to consume.

Joseph set the pace and chose the course, he had spent more time training with the new weapons introduced by Edwards than Micah and even had been trained in the use of, and entrusted with, a rifle. With that new weapon, and the speed and strength resulting from their protein-enhanced diet, there was nothing to fear from encounters with small groups from any of the other tribes.

Micah had spent almost all of the time, since the Humans arrived, studying under Jedediah or Aaron. He had traveled with Aaron doing missionary work, and was very successful and persuasive when it came to converting the Soessossins from simple acceptance of the Guardians natural authority, to the wonder and majesty of the Leviticans brand of Christianity. He knew what worked, and the key was that once a member of the tribe had his metabolism augmented and enhanced by meat consumption, the new message of purification by faith and fire resonated with a part of their psyche that previously had been hidden.

The first week of the journey went by rapidly as they encountered only twice others of their species. In both cases a few conversions were made and seeds were sown. They gained no knowledge concerning the Rogons and Humans who had landed at the camp of the Yelsig and kept going, drawing ever nearer.

Sister Martha, Sister Ruth, and the Dobswell women, Miriam and Ruth, kept to the center of the traveling party. They rode for the most part, as members that rotated in and out of the duty. As such Martha was sure everything they talked about was known to all and especially Jedediah and Brother Edwards. Edwards kept his wife Helen with him most of the time as he rode at their front with Jedediah. Aaron, as new head of the tribe should by right have been their also but he instead traveled amongst the other dispersed band, reinforcing his religious message and raising their spirits and bringing in a few more converts every day. His new stature did not seem to affect him much from what Martha could see, but then he had always seemed a bit unworldly in her view.

“How many of us are there Husband?” Sister Helen asked.

Edwards gave a short grunt and then replied, “Couple of thousand by now moving west. By the time everyone gets the word we’ll have twice that number.”

“What will we do when we finally reach the Rogon and Yelsig?”

“Aaron thinks he’s gonna have a giant revival and tent meeting. He figures to convert the Rogon and Yelsig, me, I’m just along for the ride.”

“That does not sound like you, being just along for the ride.”

“You just keep that kind of thinking to yourself now Ruthie dear, wouldn’t want anyone else getting’ ideas—now would we?” With that, Edwards slapped his scabbard then turned back to watching the route ahead.

Thinking… “He called me Ruthie instead of Helen,”… his wife tried to figure what that might mean.

* * *
Tulari, leader of the Tulari, faced Hosham, though they did not see eye to eye. Since the last encounter with the Agorah, the clan had gathered its strength, and along with their allies the Richirty, had moved ever closer to the Agorah’s main camp until only days separated them. The numbers at first were overwhelmingly on the side of the Tulari and Richirty but someway or another the Agorans had been slowly siphoning members from the combined group and Tulari could see nothing short of war that might stop the trend.

The former Agoran, who now claimed to be a member of the tribe of Aaron, stood a head taller and outweighed him by at least three hundred pounds. There was a muscular harshness to his form that was disquieting. Tulari was not prepared to go into mind-to-mind communications with the other as would have been usual. Too many times, in others, that had resulted in uncontrollably seditious thoughts and separation from the tribe. Tulari did not believe he would be susceptible but was taking no chances.

“I am told you bring a message.”

“A message and an electronic record.” Hosham held the viewer in his lower pair of arms and activated the playback.

When it was finished the Tulari leader spoke again, “The lights we saw in the sky, they were the ships of these creatures?”

Hosham answered, “Of that much we are certain. One of those ships came to our camp the next morning; after we had already fled, and inspected what we did not take with us. The Humans took hold of Agorah, who had stayed behind, and took him back to the ship. I will play the recording of what happened next. I will play this at a fast rate of speed but will slow down and repeat should you desire.” He turned the screen on again.

The view was from long range but still clear enough to make out most of the details. A Rogon came out of the ship and appeared to question the Soessossin Agorah and in the process touching it once with a short wand like thing. A few moments later the Rogon touched Agorah again and he fell to the ground. A fire was prepared and a feast ensued, the Rogon who had conducted the interrogation and a second one from the ship ate first, and then even a few of the Humans once the Rogons went back inside.

Tulari, normally unemotional, as were all Soessossins, felt so shaken that he had a hard time bringing himself to speak. “This is where your new ways would lead us to. This is why you must not prevail.”

Hosham was ready for that condemnation; he had heard its variants even before the Rogons arrival.

“The Book tells us what may be eaten and what is unclean. The Prophet Aaron teaches that it is an abomination to classify thinking lifeforms, those suitable for religious instruction, as animals. What you have seen is a great evil and we must do everything in our power to stop it. That is the reason the tribe of Aaron is now traveling towards the home of the Yelsig.

“I am here, doing the Prophets bidding, and asking that the Tulari and Richirty come with us to end this threat if the Lord should will it so.”

“And would you seek to convert us to your ways if we should travel together?”

“Aaron has said that we will not. Your own eyes will convince you once you see what the leadership of the Lord can accomplish.”

“Go and speak to Richirty of the Richirty, I will discuss this with the rest of my clan but I think, for a time we will go along with you.”

Hosham traveled to the camp of the Richirty, and in an uneasy alliance, all three tribes marched westward towards the captive Yelsig.

* * *
They were stopped for a short break when Cotton Edwards felt a slight vibration coming from a pocket sewed on the inside of his shirt. He looked over to Jedediah and Aaron said, “I am going to walk out to that rise up ahead to see what comes next. I’ll wait for you at the top.”

“You need your rest also Brother Edwards,” Aaron said.

“Don’t worry none, I’ll get mine and be waiting for the rest of you to join up.”

When Edwards was out of sight he took the small device from his shirt and plugged it into a port on his com unit. He punched through the security codes, almost at once the picture stabilized, and he saw for the first time in many months the face of Burt Buchanan. Before Buchanan could say a word, Edwards said. “Damn Burt, what the hell is going on!”

Buchanan was stammering he was shaking so hard, “You’ll never believe who I have been talking to.”

“Try me.”

“Richard Redmond.”

Strike Force Ground, Ridge Overlooking Sarras’ Farm

Compiled from the log files of Okanai Blackfeather, John Pierce and Lisa Daives

“Fox, Wraith. We’ll be back for you. Out.”

Chavez rolled onto his stomach and peered back in the direction they came. He could make out the alien shapes through the slowly settling snow. He counted maybe fifteen clustered on the ridge top, though the darkness made getting an exact count impossible.

“What now?” Lisa whispered.

“Now we wait. It’s their move,” he replied as softly.

As the three lay there the remnants of the lead group Lisa had taken on made their way up the hill to join the other survivors, and they didn’t look to be in good shape. The now twenty or so aliens were clustered in a tight circle around one of the figures. One good explosion and they were all dead, Chavez thought. They might have powerful weapons, but these were no soldiers.

Then from the farm below the aliens’ skull shaped ship rose slowly into the air, blowing billowing clouds of snow (much of which immediately melted from the heat) into the air. It rapidly accelerated over the ridge and turned sharply south. An immense volley of fire came at it from the direction of the Stuart Compound, peppering its shield. The ship returned fire indiscriminately, blasting scores of trees on a nearby hill as it shot upwards and southward, away from Andy’s Fort. The shockwave left in its wake sent snow in every direction, shaking tree limbs and dislodging snowbanks nearly from the Sarras’ to the Fort.

A short time after that the ship rocketed out of Liberty City, only to be replaced less than a minute later by another skull ship streaking towards Liberty City, sending a barrage of plasma and energy beams hurtling towards the city below. The night sky glowed red.

“Can we kill them now?” Lisa growled quietly.

“Due time. You’ll get to kill more than a few, don’t you worry,” Chavez replied just before another ship tore through the night sky, this one towards them.

“Aw fuck,” John groaned as in the distance the aliens raised their personal shields.

The three soldiers flattened themselves into the snow as the ship opened up on the hillside, blasting everything in sight except the area right around the aliens. By the time the smoke cleared the ship was taking off again with the remaining aliens in its hold. Mercifully the bombardment hadn’t quite reached their position, though what it did hit was a wasteland of shattered, smoldering trees. Many were burning.

“What you said,” Chavez spat through gritted teeth, grasping the fragment of a branch jutting out of his shoulder as the snow around him turned red.

“No wait, don’t!” Lisa started as he yanked it free, “Don’t pull it out,” she glared at him, grabbing her med pack.

“I don’t have time to run around with half a tree sticking out of my back,” he grunted. “Just hit me with some quick heal and patch it up so we can get on with this. And John, deal with that,” he gestured with his other arm at the nasty burn his friend got early in the fight. “No point in being tough for tough’s sake.”

John chuckled quietly as he pulled out the steel syringe and injected his upper arm with quick heal. He wrapped it in with the makeshift gauze they had been provided and got to his feet, shouldering his rifle.

“Gonna take a looksee and find out if they left any of their own behind. Any alive at least.” He crouched low and slowly made his way back towards where the aliens had been, wary of the possibility of a trap or ambush, though there wasn’t much left to hide behind in the remnants of the forest they had just ran through.

Sure enough, there were seven alien bodies untouched by gunfire, grenade fragments or dog’s teeth scattered downhill, towards the Sarras’. They were still where they had fallen in the odd domino collapse of their line. Clearly this was not a species that valued loyalty to ones’ comrades very highly. They also seemed not to be very fond of the cold.

Not knowing how to tell if they were alive or dead John cautiously walked up to the nearest unmarked body. He gave it a sturdy kick. No answer, just dead weight. He moved to the next and got the same lack of reaction. And the next, on down the hill. It was almost like they were afflicted by some sort of instant, fatal hypothermia.

He reached the last one of the seven, about fifty yards down the hill. It was laying against one of the aliens that the Sarras’ dog had gotten to and was covered in its “blood,” if that was the right term for the thick green and purple liquids oozing out of the carcass. Or as best John could see it was all the other alien’s. This one didn’t appear to have been hit.

Just as he brought his foot back to kick it made a soft noise. It wasn’t quite a groan, though if iguanas could groan John thought it might sound something like this. Whatever the sound was, the thing wasn’t dead.

“We’ve got a live one!” he shouted up the hill. Getting this big bastard back to Liberty was going to be a chore and a half.

Mayflower

I awoke with a screaming headache, and realized I was in a bed; so why was I in full uniform? The memories came crashing in as I rolled upwards and saw Mariana on the other side of the bed.

“Guess that’s all the rest we get Uh?” she drawled.

“I hope so,” I replied noticing that there was no longer a rasp in my voice or a wheeze in my breathing. Looking at my wrist comp I cursed, “Damn another six hours. It’s well into Day Two down there and we haven’t even started back. This damn thing is way beyond anything I expected, those Aliens change everything.

“What went down while I was out of it?”

Marianna paused for a moment, “We got everyone stuck. We put Ash and Digger down about an hour after you along with Dragon and May. I joined you an hour later. Monroe is rotating his people through rest cycles, Jai and Natasi along with their Wizzos are in a rest cycle. I will certify Strike Forward as ready for duty as soon as you and Gabe get through depleting the Emergency Rations. Summer and her Wizzo are already up, they also had a light case.”

I paused in thought, over the years we had developed a habit of slipping in and out of Official Mode and I knew I had just heard a report from the Chief Medical Officer. I had to think for a few moments. “You know this is worse than we thought, the smart thing might be to surrender. There is no way we have a population base deep enough to fight a long or protracted war.”

Mariana

I came off of the bed and right into Andy’s face. I grabbed his chin in both hands and stared into his eyes. “Andrew William Waker Stuart. I have gone to War beside you, and I love you more than life itself. I have borne you two children that I thought could never be. Do not tell me for one second that you would consider allowing those gifts from the Gods to live as Slaves!”

I felt the weight shift and moved to grab him under the arms. In my mind I felt the war going on in his mind; I was a ringside viewer to something that the Psych Pukes said could never happen. I watched and felt a split personality heal before my eyes. It was like nothing I had ever seen or felt before. Suddenly the weight came off my arms and the big SOB I had married was staring me back. Only the eyes had changed. Shit they might even be more dangerous!

“You know,” Andy said. “This would put us in to a win or die situation. Are you truly prepared to live with that?”

It was my turn to leave reality! I came around with those big damn hands holding me up; for the first damn time I was Magic and Mariana at once. “I am! Is the rest of this crowd?”

He grinned at me, “Let’s find out!”

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.”