“Whether by design or luck, our enemy has struck where we are most vulnerable,” Arkazoc began. “Therefore, we must look to our defence first. Our current strategy has to be containment,” he said, bringing up an image of the war's front. “We need to restrict them to the most limited foothold as we can, until we can gather sufficient forces to launch a counter-stroke.”

  “We're marshalling every ship available to the war zone, but they're spread across the length and breadth of the Alliance,” Admiral Moore stated.

  “Can the Milky Way forces contain a force this large?”

  “Well, we still don’t know the exact extent of their fleet, conservative estimates from OMA put it in the tens of millions,” Spence stated.

  “I’ve already issued orders for elements of the Triangulum and Andromeda fleets to redeploy to the Milky Way.” Moore paused, looking at his data-pad. “However, the earliest we can expect them to begin arriving will be at least two weeks.”

  “So, in the meantime we must fight defensively with the limited forces available,” Arkazoc stated.

  “While I agree that the Alliance forces must think to the defence first,” Battle Master Ronorak began, “the Imperial Guard does not have these issues, and I can inform you that just before this meeting I ordered the entire front line fleet of five thousand ships towards the war zone.” He paused to give the representative a moment. “They have orders to attack the enemy wherever they are.”

  “How long until they will be in range?” Arkazoc asked.

  “Several groups totalling seventy or so are about twelve hours away,” he paused. “The rest will arrive over the course of the next eight days.”

  “At least we’ll be able to slow them down until we can co-ordinate sufficient forces to stop them,” Arkazoc stated grimly.

  “Do you believe what forces we have available are capable of containing the enemy?” the Supreme High Consul Flistii asked.

  “Honestly, ma'am, it’s hard to say,” Arkazoc said. “Our ships are superior to theirs in every way except in numbers. In a straight battle between fleets I believe we can, but if that World-Ship engages then we would not be able to hold.”

  “And we have nothing to stop it with,” Moore added.

  “Well, all our reports indicate conventional weapons couldn't penetrate the shielding,” Spence stated.

  “What about our strategic ordinance, would they have more effect?” Flistii asked.

  “As far as we know, there is nothing that can withstand a weaponised dark matter strike,” Moore stated.

  “We all know the residual damage that these weapons can cause,” Arkazoc stated. “However, given the alternative, I do not think we have a choice.”

  “I agree, that World-Ship is no conventional weapon. It needs to be taken out,” Paltajos concurred.

  “I hoped I’d never have to issue this order,” Flistii said solemnly. “But I cannot countenance the lives that will be lost if we do not stop the World-Ship now.” She paused, eying the assembly she saw that they were all of like mind. “Admiral Moore, dispatch the nearest ship available for a strategic strike on the World-Ship.”

  “Understood, Madam High Consul,” he replied.

  “If we succeed in destroying their World-Ship, we will still have their fleet to deal with,” Arkazoc said. “We will need more ships to deal with them.”

  “Although our galaxy is far from these dangers and have not yet been affected, we do recognise the implications it may bring,” the Palu-Mentoan representative began. “I was informed shortly before this meeting that our political assembly have convened and passed a declaration of war.” He paused. “We pledge to support you in this endeavour and have already dispatched a fleet of our fastest ships. They will be here within two weeks.”

  “Yes, the Algrothean Empire will also stand by our allies,” their representative began. “However, we must remind you that given the still volatile situation between us and the Cyber Union, we cannot commit our full resources to your support.” He paused. “Whatever we can spare you though, I guarantee you will have.”

  “Thank you, gentlemen. As always we are honoured by your loyalty.” The Supreme High Consul smiled.

  “As you are aware my people do not have a large military force. We're traders, not warriors,” the Tsenumar ambassador stated. “That being said, what we lack in military strength we more than make up for in our economic and trading power. We will ensure that you have the resources to wage this war,” she concluded.

  “Unfortunately, we can give you no decision as yet,” the Golzarti representative said. “We have dispatched a message to our government, but as you know we cannot expect a reply for a day or so. As soon as my government responds, we'll let you know.” He paused. “However, off the record, giving our negotiations for joining the Alliance, I cannot see my government not agreeing to help.”

  “Very well, does anyone have any questions?” Flistii asked.

  “Madam High Consul,” a representative began, “I feel I must ask what is to be our policy towards the planet-bound civilisation under our protection?”

  “Why do you ask?” Flistii replied.

  “The planet Mailaze, it’s home to an industrial society, and it’s just over three sectors away from the front.” He paused. “If the fighting reaches there, they will be slaughtered, and our non-interference policy would not allow us to act,” he concluded. There was a silence as all there realised the choice that they faced. Should they stick to their principles and stand-by while they are destroyed, or should morality prevail, and the Alliance defend them.

  “Death or interference,” Flistii said, weighing up the choices.

  “I do not believe that we can sit by and do nothing. If the war reaches the less-developed, then do we as the stronger not owe it to the weak to defend them?” High Consul Paltajos said. “We can deal with the consequences of our interference after the war,” he added.

  “But what if we do more harm than good?” another interjected, though she had only expressed the same concern most had.

  “Broken things can always be repaired,” Lambert said. “Dead things cannot.”

  “Indeed, a future is better than none at all,” Marshal Arkazoc stated.

  “So, if any of these primitive societies are attacked, then we shall defend them, are we agreed?” the Supreme High Consul asked as she looked around, and all in attendance nodded their agreement “Then I believe that will be all for now, thank you.” Before standing and leaving, she was followed by a small group. The other representatives began filtering out of the room, some in discussion with others and some in quiet contemplation.

  “Well then, Director, what can I do for you?” Spence asked.

  “I'll catch up with you shortly, Donald. I need a few moments with the Supreme High Consul.” She paused, looking at an antique pocket watch she carried. “How about I meet you back on that station of yours in about an hour?”

  “Should be ok,” Spence replied. “Unless anything else goes wrong,” he added.

  O’Malley walked into the ready room. Having finally got the fires in the out-runner extinguished, he was blackened and scorched from the heat. He looked around at the exhausted marines. Many were asleep where they had slumped down still fully equipped at tables, on chairs even the floor. Despite their bunks being undamaged, no-one wanted to leave the ready room. Here the news of injured friends would come first, or news of another attack, hence why those asleep kept their weapons close rather than return them to the armoury. At a nearby table, he saw several sat drinking in silence. There was Jerax, Malinea, Baxter, Pax and the shiney they had gotten drunk yesterday, Private Rhayce.

  O’Malley rubbed his tired eyes and walked towards the table. He began unclipping his armour as he did. Sweat ran down him as he dumped the still hot armour on the floor and virtually collapsed into an empty chair with a heavy sigh. He laid his rifle on the table and poured a bottle of water over his head. He looked up at the faces around him, and as he did a bottle was passed to him by Malinea. They sat together in silence being either too exhausted or disheartened to speak. This was how Sergeant Major McKay found them. He stood for a moment watching them. He saw them at their lowest and most vulnerable point, few even amongst the veterans had ever been through a day like this before or lost so many so quick. However, he could see that although exhausted and beaten down, they were not broken. His gaze lingered on O’Malley for a moment.

  “Lieutenant,” McKay said sitting down.

  “How goes it, Sarnt Major?” O’Malley asked.

  “We’re in the green, sir,” McKay replied, looking carefully at O’Malley. “Are you okay, sir?” he asked.

  “Yes, Sarnt Major. I am.”

  “Are you sure, sir? You look a little, distracted.”

  “I got a little cooked in the outrunner.” He grinned, holding up a small bottle. “Doc gave me some Prolazene, to bring my core temp down.,”

  “Understood, sir,” McKay replied. He turned to Jerax. “How’s the face?”

  “Numb as fuck, Sarnt” Jerax replied. “Gotta ringing in my ear too.”

  “That’s a nasty one,” O’Malley stated.

  “Yeah, Doc reckons it’ll leave a scar,” Jerax replied as Siren entered.

  “I hear it was rough down there,” she said, taking a seat at the table.

  “Rough, yeah,” Malinea replied quietly between sobs.

  “Yeah, like when a shit-storm meets a cluster-fuck,” Jerax stated.

  “They just kept coming, no matter how many of the fuckers we put down, they just kept coming.” Rhayce paused. “They just kept coming,” he repeated, shaking his head as he did, almost in disbelief at what he was saying.

  “It’s been a long bloody day,” O’Malley said, the exhaustion in his voice evident.

  “The worst,” Malinea added, tears streaming from her four eyes. “We lost too many.”

  “I heard it was just as bad up here,” McKay said, looking at Siren.

  “Yeah, it was a shooting gallery all round,” she replied. “That was some fucktastic piloting,” she added, slapping Baxter on his shoulder.

  “Thanks, Jess,” he replied, rubbing his bloodshot eyes.

  “Is it true we left the Colonel’s group behind?” McKay asked.

  “It is,” O’Malley glumly replied.

  “I’m sorry, but we just couldn’t take another hit from that thing,” Baxter stated sadly.

  “Not your fault, Bax. It’s the shit of war,” O’Malley stated.

  “Very true,” McKay agreed. “Now, may I suggest you all get some rest. Today was just the start of it.”

  Doix walked onto the bridge, and immediately he was struck by the damage the ship had sustained. He spotted Vanessa sat in her chair with the back of her head open and a technician working on her. Vanessa smiled at him.

  “Doix,” DeLancy said, approaching him. “It’s good to see you.”

  “Likewise, sir,” Doix replied.

  “How the leg?” DeLancy asked.

  “Not too bad, sir. It was a clean through and through,” he said as they entered the office. “Shit, no chairs,” he lamented, seeing DeLancy’s office in a worse state than the bridge.

  “I'm afraid we're remodelling,” DeLancy replied.

  “Oh well, suppose it’s not the worst thing to happen to me today.” Doix grinned. “I hope you didn't lose any of your books,” he said, noticing a pile of them on the floor in front of the bookcase and perilously close to where scorch marks from a fire were.

  “I don't know,” he replied. “I haven't had opportunity to check yet.”

  “Casualties of war.”

  “Let’s hope not,” DeLancy said, carefully checking the books and replacing them on the shelves.

  “So, what’s our status?” Doix asked.

  “We're banged up pretty bad,” he answered, handing Doix a data-pad.

  “Damn, she's a tough old girl,” he remarked, scrolling through the damage.

  “What about your battalion, how did they fare?” DeLancy asked.

  “We lost a lot of good marines today,” he replied softly. “Though I don't have an exact count on casualties yet, we lost most of our equipment too,” he added.

  “So, from both our perspectives we're combat in-effectives.”

  “For the moment,” he replied. “Although I doubt the enemy will give us that option.”

  “I'm meeting with the commodore in an hour to discuss our situation to try and figure out our next move.”

  “What about Colonel Jennings’s group, sir?”

  “They haven’t been forgotten. Hopefully they can lay low, until Cerberus can return.”

  On the bridge a technician still worked repairing Vanessa. She wasn't damaged badly, but the surge of power had caused several of her Neurotronic pathways to overload and need replacing. As she sat idle, her least favourite thing she became aware of a conversation going on nearby. She looked up to see Tarim talking with Cmdr. Brown.

  “It can't be,” Brown said, staring in astonishment at the data-pad.

  “Can't be what?” Tarim asked.

  “If these scans are accurate,” he began.

  “They are,” Tarim interrupted.

  “Hixx, come have a look at this.”

  “What is it?” she asked, approaching. Brown handed her the data-pad. She looked at it and her eyes widened in amazement.

  “That is what I think it is?” Brown asked.

  “Indeed,” she replied.

  “What?” asked Tarim slightly annoyed.

  “It appears that World-Ship is giving off mass quantities of anti-neutronic particles.”

  “Anti-neutronic?” Tarim asked.

  “Yes, it’s a beta-wave tri...” she paused, catching a glimpse of Tarim. The expression on his face made her skip the science. “I'll spare you the technical details, but anti-neutronic particles have only ever been detected in artificial pockets of subspace.”

  “Subspace shielding, remarkable,” Brown stated.

  “That sounds like its straight from the pages of a sci-fi fantasy book,” Tarim replied.

  “The theory is sound,” Hixxs stated. “Taiylon Industries have been doing a lot of research in this field of late.”

  “So, how do we defeat it?” Tarim asked.

  “That’s a good question,” Hixxs replied. “This level of tech is so far beyond either of our understanding.” She paused. “I doubt any current conventional weapon would be effective.”

  “What about a DMD?” Tarim asked.

  “Well,” she began, looking at Brown who shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

  “And that super weapon, is there any way to counter it?”

  “Not that we know,” Brown began. “However, we barely know anything beyond it being exotic energy based. Once we get access to Vanguard’s last scans, hopefully we’ll know more.”

  “Get to it then,” Tarim replied.

  Jennings sat in the cockpit of the transport watching the sensor display, keeping a watchful eye on the several enemy ships scouring the area. Even with the power at minimal level, he still worried that they would be detected. A thousand thoughts ran through his head, about Vanguard, the rest of the battalion and his current situation. Time was his greatest concern. Every minute that passed made rescue seem less likely and brought them closer to being discovered. He sat watching and thinking, vaguely aware of the conversation behind him.

  “How the fuck does he do it?” Moussa, the co-pilot, asked looking at Jones, who was sound asleep, still with his rifle in hand.

  “Considering how scuntered we got last night, I’m surprise he made it this long,” Raxs replied, cleaning his Qwelk gun.

  “But still, we’re so far up the creek here.”

  “Not the first time some of us have been in this situation,” Raxs stated.

  “When were we last in situation like this?” Serallis asked, continuing to clean her nails with her combat knife.

  “That pissing contest we got into with the fods on Baqwau.”

  “Oh yeah,” she replied with a nostalgic grin. “That was a fun day.”

  “You marines are certifiable,” Moussa said, shaking his head.

  “No argument here,” Serallis shrugged.

  “Doesn’t all this concern you?” Moussa asked.

  “Nope,” Raxs replied with typical Kronon indifference to danger.

  “Okay, same question to someone with self-preservation,” Moussa said, turning to Serallis.

  “I realise just how fucked we could be.” She paused, looking back at him. “But just because we seem fucked doesn’t mean we are.”

  “Indeed, you cannot let fear control you,” Iska interjected, as Odee finished tending to her shoulder.

  “As the Cap’s demonstrating,” Moss yawned. Seconds later there were several loud bangs, and the transport shuddered as debris bounced along the outside. Jones woke with a start, weapon at the ready.

  “It’s just debris, Cap,” Serallis stated.

  “How long have I been down?” Jones asked.

  “About thirty minutes,” Raxs replied.

  “And we’re still here,” Jones yawned, standing and stretching.

  “What’s matter, Cap, are we starting to bore you?” Serallis smirked.

  “What do you mean starting to?” Jones replied with a short laugh as he headed into the cockpit. “What’s new boss?” he asked, slumping one of the seats.

  “Same as before,” Jennings replied.

  “And the munchers?”

  “Munchers?” Jennings asked puzzled.

  “Those ass-munchers out there,” he replied, gesturing towards the enemy.

  “See, this is why you don’t get to name stuff,” Jennings laughed. “They’re still searching through the debris, but they are getting closer every pass.”

  “Well, we can’t wait here forever,” Jones stated.

  “Sir,” Odee said, entering the cockpit.

  “How are the wounded?” Jennings asked.

  “Most aren’t too serious,” he said. “Simpson, however, is in a bad way. I’ve stabilised him for now, but we need to get him to a hospital asap.”

  “How long?”

 

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