Three Square Meals Ch. 123

John stood by the door as the girls filed out of the Briefing Room, giving each of them a goodnight kiss before they went to bed. Alyssa waited until last, then she slid her arms around him and pressed her lips to his, a sultry invitation in that intimate kiss.

When they parted, she gazed into his eyes, “You should come to bed too...”

He brushed his fingers through her golden hair, watching as she leaned into his hand. “I’ve got some things on my mind... I’ll be along in a little while.”

She looked at him with concern, but reluctantly left to join Calara, who was waiting by the Tactical Station. John watched the two of them cross the Bridge and waved goodbye as they disappeared from view in the grav-tube. He could see they were worried about him, but he needed a bit of time to himself after the nightmarish day he’d just had.

Alone at last, he plodded up the illuminated steps to his Command Chair and slumped in the seat. Looking over his console at the Bridge, he was struck by just how painfully empty it seemed without Faye’s constant presence there. She’d kept careful watch over them for months, always greeting him with a cheerful smile whenever he arrived on the Command Deck. His heart ached for the beautiful girl and he was still struggling to believe that she was gone.

The pep talk he’d given Irillith and Dana seemed to have snapped them out of their grief, setting them a goal to strive for and rekindling hope of seeing Faye again. While he had enough confidence in Irillith’s prowess to believe that they might someday be reunited with the purple sprite, he had to wonder if it would really be her they were bringing back. She might have Faye’s personality, but how much did the AI’s experiences shape her into the wonderful girl she’d become? It was heartbreaking to think that all the memories of her short but remarkable life with the crew had been destroyed... especially the budding romance they’d shared.

Faye had asked that they take their relationship slowly, but he knew she’d done so because she was worried that he might become unsettled by her synthetic nature. John toyed with the armrest of his chair, wrestling with an uncomfortable truth. If Faye had been a normal girl, he knew that they would have consummated their relationship within days rather than months. With Alyssa, Calara, Dana, Jade... all of the girls really... as soon as they’d made the decision to become a part of his life, he’d enthusiastically welcomed them into bed. He felt a sharp pang of guilt as he realised that Faye’s fondest wish, her desire to become a real girl, was due to her desperate craving for the intimacy that he’d denied her.

“I’m sorry, Faye...” he whispered, staring at the empty space where she normally perched on his console. “You just wanted to be loved... and I let you down.”

“You never let her down,” Dana said quietly from behind him. “You were closer to Faye than any of us.”

John turned his chair and saw the redhead standing at the bottom of the illuminated steps. He’d been so distracted that he hadn’t heard Dana returning to the Bridge.

“I kept her at arm’s length for weeks,” he admitted, looking ashamed. “I treated her differently to all the rest of you...”

Dana shook her head as she slowly climbed the steps. “You can’t go blaming yourself for that. Faye was worried about freaking you out... that maybe you’d have some uncanny valley moment and be repulsed at the thought of being with her. The two of you taking things slow was a good thing.”

“But I never got a chance to really show Faye how much she meant to me...”

“Because you didn’t get to fuck her?” Dana asked provocatively, raising an eyebrow as she stood before him.

He looked up at her with hurt indignation. “Don’t say it like that! You know that’s not what I meant!”

“You can dress it up in flowery language if you want, but that’s exactly what you meant,” she said defiantly. “You’re blaming yourself because you think you short-changed Faye somehow, but making love to Faye wasn’t the only way of showing her how much you cared. She treasured every second you spent with her... like those dates you had together; they were something special just between the two of you.”

“I know I could have done much more for her,” John said, his face shadowed with regret. “Faye did so much for us... she was unbelievably selfless.”

Dana knelt down in front of him and gently clasped his hand. “John... what happened to Faye wasn’t your fault. You might feel like you let her down, but it’s just not true. I hate seeing you like this... your confidence is shot to hell and you’re crucifying yourself over everything at the moment.”

“No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are,” she said firmly. “First there was that comment in the kitchen about me and Irillith being much smarter than you... and us having to carefully explain things like you’re some kind of moron. Then you blamed yourself for not taking out Larn’kelnar single-handed and letting us get hurt; you made it sound like you were just standing around jerking off! Now you’re feeling all this guilt about not treating Faye right and that you neglected her somehow... but you actually let yourself fall in love with her despite her being synthetic!”

“It just feels like I’ve been doing everything wrong...” he said, looking dejected.

“John... the way you’re feeling about everything is all connected,” she said sympathetically. “It’s all about your parents.”

John’s shoulders sagged, his expression turning gloomy. “I really don’t want to talk about them right now...”

“I think we need to,” Dana said, stroking his hand. “I understand what you’re going through, I really do.”

He looked into her sky-blue eyes, a sceptical frown on his face. John didn’t want to say that there was no way Dana could know how he felt, but she could tell that was exactly what he was thinking.

She refused to back down and met his doubtful gaze. “For years I’d lie awake at night, wondering who my parents were and why they left me at that shitty orphanage in Karron. I just knew my mom and dad must be out there somewhere, desperately searching for their lost little girl. One day they’d find me, wrap me up in a big hug, and tell me how it was all a big mistake... that they loved me and now we could be a proper family like we were always supposed to be.”

John flinched as he remembered similar dreams when he was a child, wondering where his parents were and wishing they’d come home. He saw the hurt in Dana’s eyes and reached out to gently cup her face. “I’m sorry, Sparks.”

She leant into his hand and sighed. “Don’t be... you’ve had it much worse than me. Not knowing who my parents are is bad enough, but to find out they’re a couple of complete fucking assholes would be terrible.”

He rubbed a hand across his face and said wearily, “It wasn’t really Jessica’s fault... she was enthralled by my father and basically forced to do whatever he wanted. I guess I can’t really blame him either; Rahn’hagon was just desperate to escape from Xar’aziuth’s control... and when he realised all his plans had failed, he panicked and lashed out at me.”

“Ah, bullshit! Stop making excuses for them!” Dana exclaimed, bristling angrily. “Your own mother just dumped you on Terra, then ran away to be with her lover! The bitch didn’t even think twice about you in 40 fucking years! And as for your dad... what kind of asshole attacks his own son?! A real piece of shit, that’s who!”

John was startled by her vehemence, then caught her watching him carefully despite her furious outburst. “You didn’t really mean all that...”

Her expression softened and she inched closer, placing her hand over his heart. “Yeah... but that’s what you’re feeling in here. You spent your whole life desperate for answers about your parents and when you finally found them, your mom and dad both rejected you. There might be perfectly logical reasons for why they did what they did, but it doesn’t change the fact that they deliberately abandoned you and didn’t even feel bad about it... and that’s got to hurt.”

He pulled her up so she was sitting sideways across his lap and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. Resting his head against her ample cleavage, he let out a despondent sigh.

“I get it, John... I really do,” Dana said softly, her heart going out to him. Running her fingers through his hair, she whispered in his ear, “You got your hopes up and they dumped all over them. So now you feel stupid for spending your whole life wanting to meet your parents and you’re left wondering what you did wrong that made them reject you...”

John didn’t reply, he just swallowed around the lump in his throat and held her tighter.

“But you’re not stupid for believing in them,” she said, brushing his pointed ear with her fingertip. “They’re stupid for letting you down so badly. You’re brave, generous, kind, and loving... you’re smart and resourceful, a great leader, and a wonderful fiancé. I actually feel sorry for your mom and dad, because they’ll never get to know this amazing guy that their son turned out to be.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, never wanting to let her go.

She held him close to her chest and gently massaged his head. “You don’t need them, John. They were part of your past, but now you can close that chapter and move forward. You’ve made a whole new family for yourself... it’s just you, me, and two-dozen other girls who all think you’re awesome.”

He chuckled and lifted his head to look into her sky-blue eyes. “I guess I was overcompensating a bit?”

Dana gave him a loving smile. “That’s okay. If you feel like you need to overcompensate a bit more, I’m sure Alyssa will be delighted.”

“I bet she would,” he agreed, returning the smile. He kissed the tip of Dana’s nose and continued, “Thank you for coming to speak to me, it was really good to talk about it.”

“Please don’t push us away when you get sad,” she said, with a look of sympathy. “I know you’re hurting, but you wouldn’t let any of us suffer alone, would you? You’re part of a big family now that loves you, so if you start to feel down, just ask any of us for some TLC.”

“I will. I’ll have to thank Alyssa and Rachel too; I really appreciate the three of you trying to make me feel better.”

The redhead blushed. “What makes you think everything I said didn’t all come from me?”

“I know what parts were from you, honey,” he replied quietly. “You were right; you do understand what I’m dealing with at the moment. It was worse for you though; at least I had my grandparents to look out for me... but you were on your own.”

“Not anymore,” she said, looking deep into his eyes. “You changed all that. I’ll never be on my own again.”

He slipped his hand inside her top and stroked her toned stomach. “We’ll have to make sure you have lots more company in the future...”

Dana’s cheeks flushed again, but not with embarrassment this time. She leaned against him, giving him a doe-eyed look as he caressed her. “I want to have your baby so much,” she murmured with a wistful sigh. “I thought we were done with all the fighting when we killed Larn’kelnar... I hate that we’re nowhere near retiring.”

“You understand why we’re doing this, right?” John asked pensively, tracing circles around her navel. “I’d love to start a family with you... but I can’t, not while we’re under constant threat of Progenitor attack. I’m not going to risk you being in danger when you’re pregnant, so that means I need to deal with them before we can have children. If I have to wipe those bastards from the galaxy to keep you safe, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

She gave him a mischievous smile. “I never thought that galaxy-wide genocide could be so romantic...”

“My beautiful girl deserves nothing less!” he exclaimed dramatically, giving her a playful kiss.

Dana giggled and hugged him affectionately.

He rubbed her back, then his voice turned sombre, “All joking aside, we haven’t got much choice here, honey. After everything that’s happened on the Astral Plane, Xar’aziuth isn’t going to stop until he takes us out, which means we’re not going to be able to avoid a showdown with lots more Progenitors. Rahn’hagon might be an asshole, but I’m sure he’s right about that.”

“Yeah... I think he’s right too,” she agreed, with a rueful frown. “Don’t worry, I’m backing you 100%.”

“I always knew you would,” he said quietly, studying her face. “But that’s not because I’m taking your support for granted... I just knew you’d have my back no matter what.”

“I love you,” she said earnestly. “And I trust you with my life. You’ve been really down on yourself for not being ready to fight Larn’kelnar, but you shouldn’t be. Just think about all the shit we’ve had to deal with over the last six months... and you’ve managed to steer us through all of it. As you got stronger, you could’ve hoarded all your power like those other Progenitor jerkoffs, but instead you decided to share your abilities and power up your girls to fight beside you. Larn’kelnar never knew what hit him... and we kicked his fucking ass! None of us came up with that idea... it was your plan all along to make us so powerful.”

He gave her a loving squeeze. “You are pretty special.”

“Only because you made me that way,” she said, her tone serious now. When he was about to object, she raised a hand. “No, this isn’t the time for a ‘you were special all along’ pep talk. Let’s be brutally honest here: before we met, I was a scared little orphan girl who just had a natural talent for fixing things. Since we got together, you’ve enhanced the crap out of me! I can design multiple schematics simultaneously, I can look right into materials, alter their properties with my mind... shit,

I can even create my own fucking black holes! All that came from you... and you did the same thing with the rest of the girls.”

John was quiet as he considered what she was saying.

“You didn’t let us down in the Larn’kelnar fight... you were fighting him using us!” Dana said emphatically. “Alyssa trashing his shields and drilling his leg through with a psychic lance? All you. Sakura stabbing him with a Crystal Alyssium sword and freezing his balls off? Yep, all down to you as well. Me dropping him in the floor and trying to rip him in half to save Sakura? Yeah, that was all your handiwork. Rachel shielding us? You gave her those powers, so you kept everyone safe as well. Then when Jade attacked him-”

“She was a shape shifter already...” he interjected.

Dana rolled her eyes, then said patiently, “John... when we first met Jade, she was pretty much just a mindlessly obedient sex slave. Not only did you develop her personality and give her free will, you turned a harmless Nymph into a lightning-breathing dragon that was powerful enough to blast through a Progenitor’s shield and rip his fucking arm off!”

He couldn’t help smiling as he remembered Larn’kelnar’s look of abject terror when Jade hurled him across the room. “That was pretty awesome.”

“Yeah... and Jade was only able to do that because of you,” she said softly. “I don’t know why you decided to share all your powers with us, but everything we can do comes from you. Beating yourself up for not doing enough is just so stupid... I can’t even get my head around it. It’s lovely the way you try to boost our self-esteem and make us believe in ourselves, but I think you get so wrapped up in us, that you forget what’s really going on. Take Helene for example: she’s only got psychic powers because you decided you needed an empath. All those Outer Rim colonists had been traumatised by the Kirrix, so you rewrote Helene’s DNA and gave her the ability to help them. We’re all a bunch of super-powered psychic badasses only because that’s what you wanted us to be.”

“Fuck...” he muttered under his breath, looking shocked.

She gave him a wry smile. “Still think you let the side down?”

He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “No... I guess not.”

“We’re all team Blake,” Dana said, turning on his lap so she was straddling him and staring directly into his eyes. “Your dumbass parents might have let you down, but we never will. We’re all with you, right to the bitter end. Then, after we bitch-slap Xar’aziuth and all his Progenitors for messing with us, you’re going to show us how grateful you are by getting us all knocked up. Now, does that sound like an awesome plan or what?”

“That is a hell of a plan,” he agreed with a smile. Raising an eyebrow, he joked, “Maybe you should be in charge?”

“Nope, that’s your job. I could never do it as well as you,” she said sincerely.

John slid his arms around her and held her close, burrowing his face in her long auburn hair. “You’ve no idea how much I needed to hear all that tonight.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said, pulling back to give him a sympathetic smile. “You were really hurting... we could all see it.”

“Team Blake always looking after me,” he said self-consciously.

She slid off his lap and held out her hand. “That’s right, buddy... and don’t you forget it!”

“I won’t.” John took her hand and rose from his chair. “So where to now?”

“You’re in desperate need of some loving,” Dana replied, grinning at him over her shoulder as she led him down the steps.

He followed her into the red glow of the grav-tube. “Sparks, I don’t think we should. It feels... disrespectful to Faye.”

They dropped down to Deck Two and when they stepped out into the corridor, she gently cupped his cheek. “She loved watching you make love to us; I can’t think of a better tribute to her memory. Besides... we’ll get Faye back. As you said, it might take years, but that’s nothing when we’re going to live forever.”

John thought about it for a moment, then nodded. The thought of being psychically connected to all the girls was a very appealing one, especially with the incredible feeling of intimacy it provided.

Dana led him down the corridor a few paces, then stopped outside the quarters right next to the grav-tube. She smiled and wrapped her knuckles on the door.

“I thought you and me...?” he asked in confusion, glancing down the corridor towards her quarters.

She shook her head, auburn tresses sweeping over her shoulders. “I’d love to, but you need someone who can really perk you up.”

The door slid open and Helene greeted him with a warm smile.

“Hello, John,” the teal-hued beauty said in a husky voice. Her baby-blue eyes seemed to look deep into his soul. “Will you let me take care of you tonight?”

He took her hand, letting her lead him into the bedroom. John paused and looked back at Dana. “Thanks, Sparks.”

She blew him a kiss, then waved goodbye as the door shut behind him.

Shoulders sagging with relief, Dana turned on her heel and strode down the corridor, heading for her own bedroom. The door opened ahead of her, so she went straight inside and flopped onto the bed.

“Are you sure he’s gonna be alright?” she muttered, looking worriedly at the blonde and brunette who’d been waiting for her. “John’s really busted up... I’ve never seen him this vulnerable before.”

“You were amazing, babes,” Rachel said, gently stroking her hair. “You covered all the key points, but you were far more eloquent and impassioned than I could have been.”

Alyssa leaned down to give her best friend a tender kiss. “He needed you and you were there for him. No one else could have reached him like that.”

Dana’s eyes welled up and her voice broke as she said, “How could his mom and dad just shit on him like that? He never deserved to be treated that way.”

“I know,” Alyssa said sorrowfully. “I tried to make things better with Jessica... I just wish I’d had more time.”

Rachel placed a hand on her shoulder. “You did what you could, but that opportunity is gone now. We need to keep positive and look towards the future; it’s up to all of us to be the family John needs.”

Alyssa nodded, a look of grim determination in her eyes. “We’ve got a load of killing to do, then we can all concentrate on making him really happy.”

Dana groaned in frustration and her hands went to her svelte stomach. “We were so close! I can’t believe we’ve got to take out all those Progenitors before we can get pregnant!”

The brunette let out a sad sigh of resignation and nodded. She reached out to brush her fingers over Dana’s trim tummy. “You’d look so gorgeous with a baby bump...”

“You too...” Dana murmured, licking her lips as she lightly traced her fingertips around Rachel’s bellybutton.

Alyssa laughed and slid off the bed. “And on that note, I’ll leave you to it. I feel an overpowering urge to make Calara moan...”

Rachel and Dana smiled, then waved goodbye to Alyssa as she sashayed out of the bedroom.

The lovers turned to face each other and Dana quirked an eyebrow. “Do you want to go first?”

“How about at the same time?” Rachel suggested with a coy smile.

The redhead wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “You’re too good with your tongue... I get distracted. Besides, I really like watching you when you cum.”

“In that case, I’ll gladly accept your generous offer,” Rachel said with a grin, pulling off her top and throwing it aside.

A flurry of clothes hit the floor and they were soon both naked, then Dana pushed Rachel back onto the bed and fell on top of her. They giggled together, then the laughter died out as they looked into each other’s eyes. Their gentle kiss was sensuous and passionate, as each girl tried to put all their love into the soft caress of lips and tongue. Rachel let out a heady sigh of contentment, parting her thighs and wrapping those deliciously long legs around her lover.

Suddenly, Dana paused and pulled back, a pensive frown on her beautiful face.

“What’s wrong?” Rachel asked with concern, before studying her lover and recognising the flicker of grief in her eyes. “You’re thinking about Faye...”

“John was right... We just lost her today, we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Come here, baby,” Rachel murmured, pulling Dana down so she was lying on her chest. She ran her fingers through the redhead’s silky auburn tresses. “Faye had an incredible zest for life, she wouldn’t want you to spend your time grieving. She loved you, Dana... she’d hate seeing you upset like this.”

“What if Irillith can’t bring her back?” Dana whispered with dread, lifting her head to look down at her lover.

Rachel pondered that for a moment before replying, “Do you believe that there’s a chance you might be able to exceed the limitations of Progenitor Technology?”

Surprised by the shift in topic, Dana propped herself up on an elbow, her chin in her hand. “It’s going to be incredibly hard... but yeah... I think it might be possible.”

“I believe in you,” the brunette said earnestly. “And I believe that Irillith can exceed a normal Progenitor’s mastery of computing. If she can do that, she can bring back Faye.”

The redhead thought about it for a moment, then brightened. “Yeah, I guess that’s basically the same thing. If I can exceed their tech, there’s no reason Irillith can’t too.”

Rachel smiled to see Dana looking happier again, then they both paused when they heard a tap on the door. She uncrossed her legs from behind the redhead’s back, releasing her girlfriend so she could answer it.

“Who is it?” Dana asked as she padded across the floor.

“Sakura,” came the muffled reply.

Opening the door, Dana beckoned the Asian girl inside. “Hey, come on in!”

Sakura glanced at the nude redhead, then her eyes flicked to Rachel who was posed seductively on the bed. “I’m sorry... my timing’s terrible. I would have waited until tomorrow, but Alyssa said that now was a good time.”

Rachel laughed and rolled her eyes. “We’ll have to get her back for that.”

“It’s okay, you caught us just before we got busy,” Dana said with a mischievous wink. “Now, what’s up?”

The Asian girl let Dana lead her across the bedroom, then sat on the bed beside the nude girls. “Alyssa told me everything that happened after I was knocked unconscious. She told me that both of you got hurt trying to protect me from Larn’kelnar.” She lowered her head submissively and added, “I wanted to... thank you.”

Dana and Rachel flashed excited grins at each other.

Rachel crawled across the bed and lifted Sakura’s chin so that they made eye contact. “You’re our guest, we couldn’t possibly take advantage of you like that...”

Trailing her finger across Sakura’s toned bicep, Dana purred, “Besides, you kicked that shitweasel’s ass... we should be the ones thanking you!”

Sakura’s full lips turned up into a warm smile. “What did you have in mind then?”

Rachel started unbuttoning the Asian girl’s shirt, her tone turning seductive. “Take your pick...”

“Dana,” the Asian said without hesitation.

“Yay!” the redhead crowed, as she helped peel off Sakura’s trousers.

Rachel laughed as she unclasped the Asian girl’s bra. “I might have known you’d pick her. You can’t resist those lovely blue eyes looking up at you.”

Sakura kissed the brunette, then whispered, “Actually... I wanted you to talk to me.”

The brunette bit her lip, then nodded, her grey eyes sparkling with excitement. She propped herself up with a couple of pillows, then lay back on the bed and parted her legs. Patting the covers between her splayed thighs, she gave Sakura an inviting smile. Not wasting any time, Sakura stripped off the last of her clothes, then reclined backwards on the bed, her head nestled against Rachel’s luscious cleavage.

“Are you comfortable there, gorgeous?” Rachel whispered in her ear.

“Very...” Sakura replied, spreading her legs for Dana.

“Now... look into those beautiful blue eyes,” the brunette urged her. “You can see just how much she cares about you...”

The two girls made eye contact and shared a tender smile as Dana lay down on the bed. She traced her fingers along Sakura’s inner thighs, marvelling at the silky softness of her flawless skin and watching her muscular body react to her gentle touch. Dana leaned down to lap at Sakura’s outer labia, the gliding wetness of her velvety tongue drawing a long sigh of contentment from the quivering girl.

“God, I needed this...” Sakura moaned, her hips rocking slightly.

Curling her hands around those splayed golden-brown thighs, Dana held her down and started gently teasing her clit, her tongue swirling in circles over the sensitive flesh.

“Ohh...” Sakura breathed, reaching down to tangle her fingers through Dana’s red tresses, so she could hold her in place. “Don’t stop...”

Dana smiled, the corners of her mouth twitching as she feasted on Sakura’s pussy.

Rachel slid her arms around the Asian girl and cupped her firm breasts, savouring the feel of the supple flesh. “We’re so glad you joined us,” she crooned in Sakura’s ear. “Such a beautiful, lovely girl... we’re going to give you so much pleasure...”

Sakura whimpered with arousal, then turned to kiss Rachel, her dark almond eyes flaring as Dana brought her closer to an intense climax. Her mewling cries grew louder when the brunette pinched her swollen nipples, the heady mixture of pain and pleasure enough to drive her over the edge. It was hard for Dana to keep Sakura pinned down as her toned body shook with her orgasm, those powerful thighs wrapping around the redhead as her pelvis rocked instinctively.

“So strong... but gentle too, just enough to keep her in place,” Rachel murmured, kissing Sakura’s neck and watching as the Asian girl was careful not to squeeze too hard. “You’re like John... a powerful warrior that needs submissive girls to show their appreciation.”

“Yesss...” Sakura groaned, her body trembling with excitement.

“You want more, don’t you, gorgeous?” the brunette purred, nibbling at her ear. When Sakura moaned her agreement, Rachel smiled at her girlfriend between their guest’s spectacular cleavage. “Two more, Dana, then it’s my turn...”

***

“There it is, Captain,” the Maliri helmswoman drawled, pointing to the red glyph on the edge of their long-range sensors.

Shanryl leaned forward as she stared at the icon that represented the Terran Federation Comms Beacon. “Take us right in, Ankayla. I need to make a direct connection to the T-Fed network.”

“No problem.”

Her executive officer raised an eyebrow. “A spacewalk... isn’t that too risky? What happens if the Terrans detect us?”

“As I’m the only one with access to the Lahlenori accounts, I’m confident you’ll resist the urge to flee until I’m back on board,” Shanryl said, a sly smile on her face as she rose from her command chair.

“I’d never dream of leaving you marooned,” Zentha said, almost managing to sound sincere. “Your safety was my primary concern, of course.”

“Of course...” the Lahlenori Captain said as she picked up her golden helmet. “But we have nothing to worry about. Terran sensors are feeble; their ships are as perceptive as a blind old crone fumbling around in the dark. We’ll see them long before they see us.”

“How much time will you need?” Zentha asked, a flicker of apprehension in her eyes. She glanced back at the holographic map, where their destroyer was closing on the Comms Beacon.

“You shouldn’t rush art,” Shanryl replied, her fingers gliding lovingly over the sophisticated hacking deck built into her vambrace. “We have several hours until Athgiloi’s deadline, but I won’t need anywhere near that long... Terran network security is laughable.”

“I’ll warn you the moment any of those primitives come in range.”

“Relax,” the rogue Maliri said with a broad grin as she turned to leave the destroyer’s Bridge. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Shanryl left the Command Deck and hummed contentedly to herself as she walked along the corridor. Unlike her pensive second-in-command, the Lahlenori captain loved the thrill of doing something nefarious, and trespassing through Terran territory to perform a highly-illegal hacking operation was about as naughty as it got. She suspected that Edraele Valaden would be outraged if she ever found out that the Lahlenori was sabotaging the Federation and the added risk of antagonising the volatile Matriarch made this operation all the more delicious.

She took the lift down to the lower deck, then strode towards the airlock, where she waited for Ankayla to bring the Lahlenori destroyer alongside the Comms Beacon. Glancing through the clear-crystal windows, she stared at the sprawl of glittering stars for a few moments, then quickly got bored of the black expanse. Her armoured fingers swept across the interface built into her vambrace

and she tapped into the Terran holo-broadcasts that were bombarding her vessel, curious to see what was happening in the Federation.

Activating the holo-net, she grimaced at the deluge of pop-up adverts, having forgotten to activate her filters. The image of a Terran housewife beamed out from the holo-screen and Shanryl recognised the jaunty jingle, designed by some malevolent advertising executive to be infuriatingly catchy.

“Nothing cleans like... Nova Clean,” she sang along softly under her breath, while waiting for her ad-blockers to activate.

The image quickly faded away, letting her see the holo-browser unimpeded, with scores of icons providing links to the most popular items on the holo-net. Remembering Zentha’s warnings about Edraele’s involvement in the recent fight between the Terran Federation and Kintark Empire, she browsed through the list in search of information about the Maliri forces involved in the battle. One particular link caught her eye and she swept her finger across the icon, which was glibly described as: “Awesome action from the Battle of Terra!”.

Shanryl fast-forwarded through tedious footage of ugly grey Terran ships blasting away at equally hideous green Kintark vessels. The scale of the battle was impressive, but the ships themselves were crude and ineffective; she could just imagine the carnage a Maliri battlefleet would wreak on those primitives. Suddenly, the images changed from the multitude of explosions in space, to some kind of ground engagement.

The images were taken from a soldier’s helmet camera and a group of women in white armour bounded towards him across the battlefield, the jets on their battlesuits keeping them aloft. They fired incandescent streams of bright blue laser bolts at the Kintark invaders, gunning down hundreds of the reptilian forces as they advanced towards the Terran fortifications. Shanryl watched in fascination, amazed by the staggering firepower that deadly trio brought to bear on the Kintark troops.

The combat footage changed again, this time to one of the soldiers inside the Citadel’s inner walls. The Terran infantryman looked up at a vast red dragon, the sheer scale of the monstrous beast terrifying to behold. Sounds of gunfire drew the trooper’s attention and he turned to look at the source of the noise. A man in ornate white armour stood on the battlements, his rifle moving in a blur as he systematically executed every Kintark soldier in sight with precise headshots.

Shanryl had never seen shooting like it and she rewound the footage to watch the mysterious white-armoured figure in action a second time. He reloaded his rifle and turned to face the camera... and it was like her world froze.

“Oh my...” the Maliri breathed, staring enthralled at the most perfect male she’d ever seen.

She studied him in awe, pausing the image so she could gaze enraptured at his gloriously handsome features. Her body tingled with desire, flushed with an overwhelming lust that she’d never experienced before. Shanryl could only moan at the thought of bedding that paragon of masculinity.

“Shanryl? What’s wrong?!” Zentha asked with trepidation, shaking her shoulder.

The Lahlenori captain blinked in surprise, then managed to drag her eyes away from the tantalising image on the holo-screen and look at her Executive Officer in confusion. “What? Why are you down here?”

“We arrived at the Beacon ten minutes ago!” Zentha exclaimed indignantly. “I’ve been trying to contact you, but you weren’t responding!” “Ten minutes?” Shanryl muttered, shocked that she’d been enraptured by this mystery man for so long.

Zentha’s turquoise eyes flicked to the holographic image, then flared with arousal as she gasped, “Who is that?!”

Shanryl carefully avoided looking at the holo-screen and shut it down. “Never mind...”

“But I wanted to see!” Zentha groaned in protest.

“Later... we have a job to do,” Shanryl said gruffly as she headed to the airlock.

As the crystal door spiralled up into the ceiling, the Lahlenori captain felt a shiver run down her spine. She knew that if the man in armour had been there right at that moment, she would willingly do anything he asked just for a chance to be with him. It was like her whole world had been upended and Shanryl knew that dalliances with the border males would never be the same again.

***

“It’s not that simple, Lynette!” Admiral Hugo Chapman protested, his hands balled into fists. “I can’t just cull the entire Research and Development division! We’ll never be able to keep parity with the alien empires.... we’ll be cutting our own throats for decades to come!”

Fleet Admiral Lynette Devereux tried not to scream in frustration. “I gave you those orders two weeks ago! You’re telling me you’ve done nothing in all that time?!”

“I was hoping you’d see sense...” Chapman muttered under his breath.

There were a few muted chuckles from the other members of High Command in the auditorium, showing that at least a couple of the other Admirals also resented her dramatic policy changes. Lynette narrowed her eyes, knowing she’d have to nip this insurrection in the bud or the Admiralty would never respect her authority. She glanced down at her podium and activated a holographic

map, but when she looked up again, she saw Chapman smirking. He had obviously taken her breaking eye contact as a sign of submission.

Half-turning to the floating map of the galactic empires, she said coldly, “Admiral Chapman, please tell me which of our neighbours you’re referring to?”

He blinked in surprise, startled that she’d put him on the spot like this. “Err... the Kirrix!” he blurted out, his gaze flicking to the ochre-hued section to the right of the map. “They’ve already invaded... they’re a clear and present danger.”

“The Kirrix are now riven by civil war,” Lynette informed him. “Their invasion fleets are turning on each other and they’ve been repulsed from our territory by the Lion and our border fleet. I believe that’s an accurate summary of the present situation, Nathan?”

The holographic representation of Admiral Zelig nodded his confirmation. “That’s correct, Fleet Admiral. Their forces have taken appalling losses; they don’t have a single operational vessel left in Terran Federation territory and out of the hundreds that invaded, barely a score managed to flee to Kirrix Space.”

“I think it’s safe to say that they pose no threat to us for the foreseeable future?” she suggested, raising an eyebrow.

“That would be my assessment,” Zelig agreed. “Replacing the fleet assets they’ve lost will take decades. Even then, I’ve been informed that Admiral Blake has threatened the Kirrix Hive Mind with extermination should they attack again.”

Lynette nodded her appreciation and gave Zelig a quick smile before she turned her frosty gaze back on Chapman. “So not the Kirrix then. Who else?”

“The Brimorian Enclave, obviously...” the belligerent admiral replied, far from being cowed. “We know they’ve been dealing with the Kintark and supplied their invasion armada with shield generators. They must have hostile intentions towards us to ally so openly with a hostile alien empire!”

“In a matter of weeks, the Brimorians will cease to be a concern,” Lynette said brusquely. “Deep Lord Athgiloi attempted to sabotage the Lion’s ship during the Battle of Terra. I think we’re all quite aware of Admiral Blake’s stance towards betrayal... as so graphically demonstrated with the fate of Admiral Weber.”

Chapman blanched at that horrible memory, then stuck out his chin stubbornly and objected, “But the Enclave is still a threat now!”

“So might we assume that your R&D teams are on the cusp of some incredible new breakthrough?” she asked, staring down the recalcitrant admiral. “I take it you have something remarkable ready that we can roll out to our fleets in the next fortnight?”

“Quality research takes time, Fleet Admiral,” Chapman said condescendingly. “I shouldn’t have to explain that to you...”

“I’m fully aware of the inordinate amount of time your division takes to roll out new innovations,” Lynette said, her lip curling with contempt. “If Research and Development wasn’t so appallingly inefficient, culling them might have been a more troubling decision. Now, are there any other empires you consider to be a dire threat?”

“The Maliri have proven just how dangerous they are,” Chapman said, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“You consider our current strongest ally to be a threat?” Lynette asked, raising an eyebrow.

“There’s been no formal declaration of alliance!” he protested.

Shaking her head, she looked at him like he was slow-witted. “They raced to our side to defend Terra against the Kintark invasion! How much more proof do you need that the Maliri view us in a favourable light? Besides... I’m sure you’re well aware just how potent their fleets are; do you have anything in the pipeline that would allow our forces the slightest hope of repelling firepower of that magnitude?”

“Nothing as yet,” he replied sullenly.

Expecting that answer, Lynette gestured towards the three-dimensional map. “Rather than dragging this out even more painfully, let me summarise the situation with the rest of our neighbours. The Ashanath Collective: benign pacifists who have never once fired on us in anger. The Drakkar: devastated by Admiral Blake and Grey forces at the Battle of Ashana. The Kintark: broken as a galactic power, their fleets wiped out at the Battle of Terra. The Trankaran Republic: besieged by Kirrix and still desperate to secure a formal alliance with us, despite their prior request for aid being cruelly rebuffed at Buckingham’s insistence.”

Looking expectantly at Chapman, she continued, “Is there anyone else? Surely you aren’t going to claim one of the minor empires poses any form of threat?”

Chapman glared back at her. “No... of course not.”

“So to summarise, we’ve established that the Brimorian Enclave is our only remaining hostile neighbour and they will be neutralised in a matter of weeks. You also conceded that your division will offer us no significant new technology in the near future... at a time when the Federation is in desperate need of a financial windfall. We require immediate funding for Outer Rim infrastructure to placate the outraged colonists and pre-empt a rebellion. We also need to fund a colony rush in ceded Kintark territory to capitalise on a huge influx of new resources. Considering the massive benefits to be gained and the minimal associated risks, can I now assume you will disband R&D as I requested two weeks ago?” she asked him in a reasonable tone.

“I strongly disagree with this decision, Lynette,” he replied petulantly. “New scientific breakthroughs are a cornerstone of our ability to maintain military parity with hostile alien forces...”

“You mean like the raft of new technologies gifted to us by the Lion?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. “I believe we made a greater gain in potential fleet force projection in a single day, than the R&D division has been able to provide in the last century?”

“You can’t hang our hopes for technological innovations on handouts!” he snarled. “The very idea is preposterous!”

She shook her head as she marvelled at his boneheaded obstinance. “Admiral... are you refusing to obey my direct orders to disband your division?”

“Yes!” he finally snapped. “You’re goddamn right I am!”

Rising to his feet, he turned to look at the rest of the admirals who were staring at him in shock.

“You can’t be willing to sit there and listen to this bullshit?!” he shouted incredulously. “She’s out of her fucking mind! Ending all R&D... I’ve never heard anything more ludicrous! We need to get rid of her asap... she’s clearly cracked under the strain!”

Lynette ignored his outburst and stood straight-backed behind the podium. “You’ve all witnessed the admiral’s gross insubordination and refusal to obey a direct order by the serving Fleet Admiral. By Terran Federation military justice code 00001, I am charging Admiral Hugo Chapman with treason. Are any of you unwilling to be notarised as a witness to his crimes?”

The silence was deafening, with not a single man or woman moving so much as a muscle.

Chapman went pale, his eyes widening in fright. “Now... just hold on a minute...”

Turning to the armed and armoured guards by the door, Lynette said curtly, “Staff Sergeant Moorland, take the admiral into custody and remove him from this chamber.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the burly soldier replied, nodding to his team who now trained their weapons on the bespectacled admiral.

Chapman lurched away from his seat and stumbled in the aisle. “No... y-you can’t be serious!” he stammered, looking at Lynette in disbelief.

“Sir, you’re under arrest,” the Sergeant said curtly, drawing his heavy pistol and approaching the admiral. “Raise your hands and make no sudden movements.”

Eyes wide with fear, Chapman made a sudden lunge for his sidearm, followed an instant later by the booming retort of a 10mm round. He cried out in pain as the Sergeant shot him in the shoulder, the

senior officer’s arm falling limp as the pistol shot made an ugly wound, spraying blood across the back wall. Chapman staggered backwards before tripping over a step behind him, then tried to scrabble away from the rapidly closing soldier. Staff Sergeant Moorland quickly disarmed the terrified admiral, then grabbed him by the scruff of his collar and dragged him from the room. Chapman’s desperate pleas could be heard for another few seconds, then the door slid shut, silencing his cries.

Lynette sighed and looked at the stunned members of High Command with regret. “Please accept my apologies for that unfortunate business. I am open to well-reasoned arguments should you disagree with me on any matter of policy, but I will not stand for gross dereliction of duty or openly flaunting my authority as Fleet Admiral. If any of you are now unwilling to serve as a member of High Command, I will not penalise you for resigning from this body; you may continue to serve in the Admiralty with no adverse repercussions to your career.”

Admiral Caldwell cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “Chapman was openly advocating treason, Fleet Admiral. He left you with no choice.”

She nodded to him in gratitude, then looked at the images of Admirals Alexander Morgan and Anthony Kester. “The advanced fleet under Dacres should arrive at the Callopean Shoals by 3:00 am. The dreadnought Heimdall will be your new command ship, Alex.”

“Who are you assigning as commander of the border forces?” Admiral Morgan asked quietly.

Her eyes flicked to the second holographic image. “Anthony has seniority by virtue of more battlefield experience. However, I expect your full and open cooperation with each other; the present situation with the Brimorians is too precarious for any pissing contests.”

Admiral Kester smiled wryly. “I think you can count on us to keep it zipped up, Lynette. My fleet is closing on the Taxarran Straits, so I should rendezvous with Morgan’s fleet in approximately 56 hours.”

“Very good,” she said, feeling a flood of relief. Lynette then looked around the room. “Does anyone else have anything else they’d like to raise before we end the meeting?” Her query was met with polite silence, so she pressed on, “I’d like to reconvene at 2:00 pm tomorrow to review the current state of readiness of our border fleets. We need to discuss how quickly we can send additional forces to reinforce the Brimorian and new Kintark borders, so I’d like an accurate status report for all the fleets involved in the Battle of Terra. Alright, thank you everyone, you’re dismissed.”

The assembled admirals rose from their chairs and started to file from the room. Lynette could hear the murmur of quiet conversation as the senior officers departed, each of them eyeing the bloodstained trail leading through the foyer beyond.

Charles approached the podium, a troubled look in his eyes. “Lynette... can I have a word?”

A chime from her holo-watch interrupted him and she glanced at the offending device with a frown. Her expression shifted as she saw the message, then Lynette raised a finger to her fiancé. “Could you just give me one minute please, Charles?”

“Of course,” he agreed, stepping away to give her some privacy and joining several of the admirals who had yet to leave the meeting chamber.

Lynette brought up the holo-interface and her hazel eyes flicked through the report. Nodding with satisfaction, she typed out a quick series of orders on the floating keypad, then sent out the update and closed the holographic communication system. When she was finished, she looked up and saw that Admiral Van Den Broeck was now alone with Charles, a wicked gleam in the redhead’s eyes as she spoke quietly with him.

Walking over to the pair, Lynette noted her fiancé’s flustered appearance. “Are you waiting to speak with me, Lina?” she asked the other woman.

“I was actually just chatting to Charlie,” the redhead said with a languid smile. “I wanted to confirm his earnest young adjutant’s request that Charlie and I meet for lunch tomorrow...”

“Well, Charles?” Lynette asked, glancing at him and raising an eyebrow.

“I... err... I was just replying to the Admiral’s dinner invitation... I thought lunch would be more appropriate than dinner...”

“Is that confirmation enough for you, Lina?” Lynette asked the amused redhead. “Or did you have your heart set on conducting your... business... over an evening meal?”

Admiral Van Den Broeck studied the brunette in fascination, her curiosity piqued by Lynette’s confident reply. “I think lunch will be just fine.” She smiled at Charles and added, “See you tomorrow, Charlie. Goodnight, Fleet Admiral.”

“Goodnight,” Charles replied awkwardly, watching her turn and strut away before hurriedly switching his attention to his fiancée.

Lynette watched the redhead leave, with Lina studiously avoiding looking at the trail of blood as she passed through the foyer.

Left alone in the auditorium with Charles, Lynette gave him a cautious smile. “We have a few things to discuss. Shall we wait until we return to my quarters?”

“I think that might be for the best,” he replied, brushing his forefinger and thumb across both sides of his moustache.

They left the chamber and Lynette nodded to Staff Sergeant Moorland, who saluted her as they passed. The return journey to the senior officer’s quarters was conducted in silence, with Charles

darting pensive glances at his fiancée. Lynette opened the door to her rooms and strode inside, then waited until the door had closed behind Charles before she removed her hand and deactivated her holo-disguise.

“So... shall we discuss Lina first, or the unpleasant events with Admiral Chapman?” Lynette asked, unpinning her rich chestnut hair and letting it tumble down around her shoulders.

Charles tossed his hat onto the sofa and unbuttoned his tie, his expression conflicted. “Lynette... there’s nothing going on between me and Lina.”

“I know... but are you attracted to her?” she asked, with a coy smile.

“She’s not in your league, darling,” he replied, his tone cautious.

“That’s not a no...”

He shook his head in exasperation. “Lina was asking me about our engagement; that’s why she wanted to meet for dinner. She knows I was interested in your Marie alter-ego, so for me to suddenly be engaged to you 24 hours later is raising all sorts of questions. We need to come up with a plausible story for why I proposed to you rather than your niece.”

Unbuttoning her jacket, Lynette nodded. “Yes, you’re right... we probably should have thought of that beforehand.”

“It’s only Lina who was close enough to the situation for these kinds of questions to arise... oh and Jehanna of course, but she already knows the truth.”

“Okay, well we can think up something and you can tell Lina all about our lightning romance during lunch tomorrow,” she replied, a hint of a smile on her face again. “Now... did you want to discuss the High Command meeting?”

Charles studied her for a moment, then walked across the lounge to the drinks cabinet. “I think you could have handled the confrontation with Chapman better. Charging him with treason was unnecessary.”

Lynette paused, surprised by his disapproving tone. “He refused a direct order, Charles... you heard him!”

Pouring himself a tumbler of whisky, Charles looked at her quizzically. When she shook her head, he shrugged and resealed the bottle. “No one in High Command would disagree that you were perfectly within your rights to order his arrest, not after that outburst... but was it really necessary to push him that far?”

“I didn’t push him... he’d been ignoring my orders for weeks!” she protested.

Charles studied her beautiful face. “You could have discussed this with him privately beforehand. There was no reason to let it escalate so publicly... unless you specifically wanted to bait him until he snapped. Were you intending to make an example of him all along, Lynette?”

She flushed, feeling uncomfortable under his disapproving gaze. “I’m not a tyrant, Charles. I’ve got the best interests of humanity at heart... but Chapman was being obstructive and deliberately undermining my authority. You’ve been in command for a long time, you know how detrimental that can be.”

He took a long sip of his drink. “Hugo was completely out of line and needed to be removed from the Admiralty for his insubordination... but executing him for treason?” Charles was quiet for a long moment.“You actually reminded me of someone else this evening.”

“Who?” Lynette asked, toying nervously with the buttons on her jacket.

“I think you know who...” he replied, running his finger across his moustache.

***

Alyssa lay sprawled beside Calara, perspiration glistening off their nubile bodies as they panted for breath.

“That was... energetic...” Calara said with a disbelieving laugh.

“Just had to work out some frustrations on your hot bod,” the blonde next to her replied, turning to gaze at the brunette.

Inhaling deeply, the Latina let out her breath in a contented sigh. “Don’t get me wrong... I’m certainly not complaining.” She rolled onto her side to face her lover. “Is this about John? I thought you said that Sparks had managed to perk him up again?”

“She did... and Helene worked her magic on him too.” Alyssa reached out to idly trace her hand along Calara’s supple flesh, the flawless olive skin smooth and soft beneath her fingertips. “He’s still got a lot on his mind though... and I hate it when he bottles everything up like that. He’ll bend over backwards to help us feel better, but when he’s upset about something, he tries to keep it all to himself.”

“My dad and brothers are exactly the same,” Calara said with a wistful smile. “My dad opens up to my mom, but only when she really pushes him.”

“It’s just horrible knowing that he’s suffering...” Alyssa said despondently.

Calara looked into those enchanting cerulean eyes. “John’s dealing with an awful lot at the moment. Finding out there are dozens more Progenitors must have been a terrible shock, especially as he now has to plan and execute a galactic war against them. Just that alone would have been hard enough,

but after everything that happened with his parents... and then Faye...” Calara paused when she saw the flicker of emotion cross the blonde’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing...” the blonde said defensively.

Raising an eyebrow, Calara shook her head. “No, that was definitely something. You looked... guilty?”

Alyssa deflated and had trouble meeting her girlfriend’s look of concern. “Can we just drop it? You’ll think I’m a real bitch...”

“I’d never think that,” the brunette said with a loving smile. “Now, tell me what’s troubling you.”

The blonde sighed and rolled onto her back as she stared up at the ceiling. “You’re right... I do feel guilty about Faye. I miss her... but her death isn’t affecting me as badly as I thought it would,” she admitted, flicking a worried glance at Calara. “I tried my best to treat her like the rest of you... but without the telepathic connection our relationship wasn’t the same. I think part of me never accepted her as one of the girls... not really.”

Calara looked at her in surprise. “I had no idea you felt that way!”

“Even after we made her a body, Faye never felt real to me... not like the rest of you do,” Alyssa confessed, turning to face her girlfriend. “When you look at me, I can feel the love pouring off you. You’ve shared everything with me... I know all your fondest hopes, your wildest dreams. Really knowing what a wonderful person you are made me fall in love with you all the more... and makes me care deeply about all the girls too.”

Pausing for a moment, the Latina studied her curiously. “I know you have a special bond with all the women that John’s intimately connected to, but how do you feel about everyone else?”

Alyssa looked away into the distance. “They’re just... not us.”

“Even my family?” Calara asked, looking hurt.

“That’s different,” Alyssa insisted, propping herself up on an elbow as she looked down at her girlfriend. “I know how much they mean to you, so I’d do anything to keep them safe.”

“But you just said that Faye didn’t feel real to you... Do you feel the same way about my brothers... or my parents?” the brunette pressed, looking perturbed.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying!” the blonde protested, frowning in frustration. “All of us girls have an incredibly intimate connection. Sensing all your thoughts and emotions adds so much depth and context to everything you say or do... and that makes all the difference in the world.”

Calara slowly nodded her understanding. “I suppose when you’re used to sharing that with all of us, it must be jarring when you’re around someone who you don’t have that telepathic connection with. I must admit, I love being able to know what you’re thinking and feeling... it must be wonderful for you to experience that with John and the rest of the girls too.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean,” Alyssa said, looking relieved. “And as much as I loved Faye for the sweet girl she was, she was always... different... from the rest of you.”

“And with her death hitting John, Dana, and Irillith so hard, you feel guilty for not grieving for her in the same way?” Calara asked perceptively.

The blonde nodded, nibbling at her lower lip. “Don’t get me wrong, losing Faye was terribly sad... but it’s just not the same. If it had been any of the rest of you, I’d be utterly devastated.” There was a flicker of apprehension in her eyes as she continued, “And... it also got me thinking. You know what Jessica was like, she didn’t give a shit about anyone except Rahn’hagon...”

“Until you intervened,” the brunette interjected, wiggling her fingers in an imitation of her girlfriend using psychic powers.

Alyssa looked nervous. “Did Rachel tell you? Please don’t say anything to John, I’m not sure how he’ll react.”

Calara gave her a reassuring smile. “It was obvious to me, but only because I know you so well. You told us how badly John’s meeting with his mother had gone and I saw how disappointed he was afterwards. When Jessica started asking us all those questions about her son, she wasn’t acting with the casual indifference you described; she looked horrified that she’d abandoned John and her parents.” She gave the blonde a fierce hug. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist intervening when John was so upset... and I was proud of you for trying to help him reconcile with his mother.”

“Thank you,” Alyssa said, pulling back to smile affectionately at her girlfriend. Her tender expression turned pensive as she continued, “But you didn’t let me finish...”

“Jessica didn’t give a shit about anyone but Rahn’hagon...” Calara prompted her. “Okay, go on...”

“Am I ending up the same way?” the blonde asked, an ambivalent expression on her face.

The Latina blinked in surprise. “No, of course not! John’s nothing like his father! Even before he changed our psychic connection with him, he never cut us off from our friends and family.”

Alyssa shook her head. “That’s not what I mean. I adore John and all of you girls... but after we lost Faye it got me thinking. Tashana incinerated thousands of thralls and Sakura slaughtered hundreds more... all on my orders. I didn’t feel the slightest bit of remorse about ordering their deaths then, and I still don’t feel any regrets now. The Larathyran thralls were threatening us and working for a rival Progenitor, so wiping them out just felt... right.”

Calara cupped Alyssa’s face and gently brushed a thumb over her cheek. “This definitely sounds like a side-effect of the Change, probably related to you being John’s matriarch. You should talk to him about it tomorrow.”

“Should I?” Alyssa asked, her brow furrowing. “We’re about to go to war with dozens of Progenitors and millions of thralls. I know I’m not a strategic expert like you, but what would be more effective... A Matriarch worried about the enemy’s welfare, or a Matriarch that will stop at nothing to ensure victory for her Progenitor?”

The Latina hesitated, a sudden flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

“Exactly,” Alyssa murmured, before glancing towards the door and flicking her fingers at the button to open it. “Come in!”

Helene padded inside, a dreamy smile on her face as she cradled her hugely swollen belly. “Hello, Calara. Hello, Alyssa. Thank you for letting me comfort John tonight.”

Alyssa rose from the bed and greeted the aquatic beauty with a loving kiss. “Thank you for taking such good care of him.”

Calara shook off her concerns and smiled warmly at Helene as she joined her on the bed. “You look like you had a very nice time,” she said, caressing those impressive teal curves.

Letting out a breathy sigh, Helene looked elated as she returned the brunette’s smile. “He was just so tender and passionate... it was like John wanted to drown himself in my love. I always knew he was my soulmate, but this time it really felt as if our souls were united as one.”

Alyssa shared a smile with Calara then sat beside the blissfully happy girl. “He needed you tonight, Helene. You really helped distract him from all his problems; he was happy and content when he finally fell asleep.”

“It was so wonderful being with him!” Helene gushed, her blue eyes sparkling. She paused and her curious gaze flicked from the blonde to the brunette. “Are the two of you alright? You seem quite tense.”

Giving her a reassuring smile, Alyssa nodded. “It’s just been a very long and very painful day.”

“I thought you seemed upset earlier.” Helene placed a hand on her rounded tummy. “I brought you something to make you feel better...”

“I know... you’re such a good girl,” Alyssa said affectionately. She turned to Calara and smiled at the hungry gleam in those sultry brown eyes. “After you, gorgeous...”

***

Commander Tom Walker sat bolt upright in bed, a shocking thought permeating through his weary, unconscious mind with the blinding clarity of a supernova. “Oh fuck!”

Beth jolted awake and stared at him owlishly in the gloom. “You scared the heck out of me, Tom! What’s wrong?!”

He rolled out of bed and rushed to the comms interface built into the desk. “Something Chen showed me before I went to bed... I can’t believe it never crossed my mind until now! God... my head’s like pudding at the moment!”

“You were exhausted and you’ve been through a lot,” Beth said with sympathy, slipping out of bed and padding over to his side. She gently caressed his shoulder. “You’re making a call? Can’t it wait until morning?”

Swiping his hand across the comms interface, he shook his head, a grim expression on his face. “No, it really can’t.” He turned to give her a pained look over his shoulder. “Beth... would you mind ducking out of sight?”

“Oops, sorry!” she blurted out, quickly darting to the side out of view of the holo-camera built into the interface.

The winged sword symbol of the Terran Federation faded away and Chen’s surprised face appeared in a flurry of pixels. “Walker? You know the Captain doesn’t like us taking calls while we’re on-shift.”

“This is critically important!” Tom said urgently. “It’s about the sensor data you showed me earlier!”

“I’ve been planning out what to put in my report,” the Tactical Officer said, looking pleased. “I think you were right... Bexley’s going to be really impressed.”

“Forget the report!” Tom snapped. “You said the shuttle had made the same trip 59 times. Does it return from the other capital ship exactly 47 minutes later every time?”

Chen blinked in surprise, then his expression turned to dread as he checked the data. “You’re right... how the hell did I miss that?!”

“Warn Captain Bexley! And launch sensor probes at the border!”

“Shit...” Chen muttered fearfully, wiping the sweat from his brow with a shaking hand. “Oh, shit...”

“Keep it together, Chen! We can’t afford to panic right now!” Tom urged him.

The tactical officer took a deep breath, then saluted his friend and ended the call.

Tom dashed across to his wardrobe and flung open the door to grab a clean flight suit. “Goddamit...” he muttered under his breath.

Beth sat on the edge of the bed and looked at him with wide eyes. “What’s happening, Tom? I don’t understand...”

“The sensor grid’s been compromised,” he replied, his face bleak as he pulled on his uniform. “The sensor data we’re seeing was a looped playback. The Brimorians have been masking their actual fleet movements.”

“How’s that even possible?” she asked, staring at him in astonishment.

“The only way I can think of, is if someone gave them the access codes to the sensor grid.”

“Someone betrayed the Federation?!” Beth gasped, looking stunned. “Why would they do that?!”

“I have no idea,” he replied, his face set in a grim mask. “But if there is a traitor in the fleet, we’re in big trouble.”

Tom zipped up his flight suit, then just as he was reaching for his boots, a blaring klaxon sounded out through the deck.

“Combat stations...” he muttered, sharing an anxious glance with the brunette.

Beth slid off the bed and gave him a fierce hug. “Please be careful, Tom!”

He patted her on the back. “Don’t worry. I haven’t been cleared for combat missions in the Claymore yet; I’ll probably have to sit this one out.”

She nodded, then glanced furtively at the door. “I’ll stay here for a few minutes, then sneak out so I’m not spotted. I don’t want to cause you any problems with Mace... or Anna.”

As they separated he gave her a grateful smile. “I slept better than I have in weeks. Thanks, Beth... for being a good friend.”

“I really do hope you and Anna can work things out,” Beth said, looking up into his eyes. She bit her lip, then added softly, “But if you two do break up, I’ll be there for you... okay?”

He leaned over and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Okay... and thank you.”

She let out a contented sigh, then waved Tom goodbye as he grabbed his helmet and rushed out the door.

***

Admiral Alexander Morgan settled into bed, the dramatic events of the late-night High Command meeting running through his mind. He’d previously assumed the new Fleet Admiral was an

opportunistic political schemer and never for a moment suspected that Lynette would have the iron backbone to deal so harshly with open insubordination. It was one thing to have your enemies quietly removed from power, but to have them shot and dragged from a High Command meeting as an example to the Admiralty... that took real balls.

He shook his head as he realised he wasn’t the only one that had grievously underestimated Fleet Admiral Devereux. The now disgraced Hugo Chapman would never have taken such a belligerent stance if he didn’t think he could intimidate her into a U-turn on policy. Morgan vowed to himself that he’d never make the mistake of underestimating Lynette again.

The intercom chimed, the high-priority alert sounding gratingly loud in his quiet bedroom. Morgan lurched out of bed, glad for the distraction, and swiped his hand over the interface to accept the call.

The shocked face of the battleship Momus’ Night Watch Commander filled the screen and Captain Martina Greco blurted out, “Admiral! We need you on the Bridge!”

Unsettled by her wide-eyed look of panic, he demanded, “Why? What’s going on up there?!”

“It’s the Brimorians, Sir! They’ve compromised the Sensor net! There’s hundreds of ships parked right on the border!”

Morgan felt icy tendrils of fear shiver down his spine. “That’s not possible! There must be some mistake!”

She shook her head frantically. “It’s not a mistake! The Janus launched probes... They picked up at least three full Brimorian battle fleets!”

“My God...” Morgan whispered, his fear escalating to outright terror.

“Admiral? What are your orders?” Greco asked, her eyes darting away to stare in trepidation at the tactical map, before flicking back to the stunned admiral.

“Sound the retreat!” Morgan exclaimed, his heart hammering in his chest. “We need to regroup with Dacres and his advanced fleet!”

“Yes, Sir!” she exclaimed with a crisp salute.

“I’m on my way,” he said, lurching to his feet. “And warn High Command!”

***

Shanryl floated in space beside the Terran Federation Comms Beacon, data jacks from her hacking deck connected to the internal network through an open maintenance panel. She cast her sharp eyes over the data scrolling across the holographic interface, her search filters locating the messages

she was looking for. The communications had all been secured with the very best of T-Fed military encryption, but to a Maliri hacker of her aptitude, they might as well have not bothered.

“Nothing cleans like... Nova Clean,” she sang softly, smirking to herself as she deleted all the correspondence between the traitor and the Brimorians.

Next to be deleted were a number of internal communications between vessels in the Terran Federation border fleet, further covering the traitor’s tracks. Tapping an icon with a slender finger, Shanryl began to upload a series of incriminating new messages, all supposedly authored by the convenient scapegoat that would be taking the blame for the traitor’s betrayal.

She glanced over the contents of the files, then shook her head with amusement. “Damn... he really hates your guts.”

Once the data upload was complete, Shanryl performed a file deletion of the newly inserted post-dated messages. However, instead of the comprehensive Maliri scrubbing tool she’d just used to hunt down and eliminated all routed copies, this was a comparatively slapdash effort that could be easily reversed by any half-competent Terran computer specialist.

“And now the icing on the cake,” Shanryl murmured, backdating transaction data to a new special bank account... padded with a very healthy balance. “The Brimorians are sparing no expense... although I doubt you’ll appreciate it.”

A crimson warning light illuminated the holo-interface, warning her that an Ultra-clearance alert was being routed through the Comms Beacon. Shanryl laughed as her interception software effortlessly blocked the message, then sent a notification back to Morgan’s fleet that it had been successfully delivered.

Turning her attention back to the comms logs, the Lahlenori hacker continued her efforts to systematically demolish a man’s life.

***

Tom sprinted down the corridor towards the Flight Deck, joining the scores of pilots responding to the klaxon calling the Janus’ crew to battle stations. He recognised Anvil’s imposing bulk amongst the shorter men and women surrounding him; the 6’6” giant towering a full head height above most of them.

“Anvil!” he called out, quickly catching up with the beefy pilot’s lumbering jog.

The big wingman turned and nodded to him in acknowledgement. “Wraith... err, I mean... Walker.”

Considering the name for a moment, Tom gave him a self-conscious smile. “Nah, it’s okay. JJ told me she’d vetoed it for my callsign... but it could’ve been a lot worse.”

Anvil slowed his pace and studied his smaller companion for a moment. “I’m not sure it fits any more... you seem different.”

Tom nodded. “It was personal... but now I know what caused the problem, I can do something about it.” They ran out onto the maintenance gantries, where pilots sprinted for their fighters. “Anvil, have you seen the Captain? I need to check if I’m cleared for combat duty on Claymores.”

“Saddle up,” a voice said from behind them, as Stony joined the two pilots.

Turning to look at his wing commander, Tom asked, “I haven’t been officially certified in the Claymore yet, Sir.”

Stony shrugged. “You’re good enough... and I just got orders giving you clearance.”

The last two members of their wing skidded to a halt beside the trio, having also spotted Anvil amongst the crowd of pilots.

Nooner yawned and rubbed at his eyes. “Damn fishboys... why’d they wait till it was sack time?”

“What’s the sitrep, boss?” Red Fox asked, tying her long scarlet hair back into a pony tail.

“Objectives will be updated as soon as I get them,” Stony said curtly, looking at each of them in turn. “Get to your ships, wait for the launch signal.”

Glancing at Tom, Nooner raised an eyebrow and grinned. “You coming too, rookie?”

“Wraith’s in slot two, next to Anvil,” Stony interjected.

Nooner shook his head. “Err... I thought JJ nixed that callsign?”

“I’m good with it,” Tom said, turning to look for his Claymore amongst the long rows of advanced fighters. With a self-deprecating smile, he added, “You came up with Wraith because I’m so deadly and terrifying, right?”

“Right!” Nooner said with a chuckle, slapping him on the shoulder.

Red Fox flashed Tom a broad grin as she dashed towards her Claymore. “You’ve got no excuses now, you’ll have to come for that drink with us to celebrate getting your callsign!”

“Alright, count me in!” he replied, caught up by her infectious enthusiasm.

He spotted his fighter’s tailcode amongst the row of strike craft, “HCJ-C-1482” embossed in white lettering against the grey titanium hull. The code identified that the Claymore-class fighter was assigned to the heavy carrier Janus and was the 1482nd modified gunship to leave the production lines at Olympus Shipyard.

Tom bounded down the metal gantry two steps at a time, then ran over to his blunt-nosed ship. He clambered up the steps to the wing, then ducked inside the airlock on the flank of the refitted heavy fighter and closed the door behind him. Pulling on his flight helmet, he slid into the comfortable pilot’s chair and began pressing buttons to power up the Claymore’s systems. Holo interfaces appeared as the console burst into life in front of him and his fighter linked in with the rest of his wing as their ships each came online.

Glancing at the launch status, Tom saw that it was still red, signifying that the launch tubes were currently sealed behind thick armour plating. He knew the Brimorians must have been planning an offensive after going to such lengths to disguise their fleet movements, so it was surprising that the Janus’ squadrons weren’t being launched into battle. He grasped the Claymore’s flightstick and tried to control his pounding heartbeat as he waited for the call to action.

***

Wave Squire Talpo stared intently at the Tactical Map and tried not to chortle with glee. Now that the Brimorians had access to the Terran sensor grid, they were able to see all the Federation forces in great detail. The enemy were outnumbered three-to-one by the Brimorian fleets arrayed against them and when the battle commenced, the Enclave’s victory over the Federation was all but guaranteed.

He counted twelve battleships, several heavy carriers, a dozen light carriers, and scores of cruisers in a defensive formation, all surrounded by a picket line of destroyers. Each vessel was tagged by its name and transponder code, giving him a perfect overview of the composition of the Terran fleet. As he studied the drab grey ships, he noticed a sudden flicker of movement that began to ripple out amongst the rest of the vessels. First the destroyers began to reposition themselves, then the cruisers broke formation, sweeping around towards the rear of the Federation fleet as the capital ships began to turn tail and pull away from the border.

“Shoal-Commander!” he called out, his voice trembling with excitement. “The Terran forces are on the move! It looks like they’re fleeing!”

“What?!” Siolagon asked in surprise, rising from his command throne and striding over to the circular observation table. His black eyes narrowed as he surveyed the manoeuvring warships, then he nodded slowly. “It seems as though our skittish prey has spotted the Tarcaela eel in their midst...”

“Have they uncovered the traitor, Shoal-Commander?” Wave Squire Gulpos asked, looking up from his station.

Siolagon considered that for a moment, then his fins flickered nonchalantly. “They appear to be aware that their Sensor Grid is compromised, but it matters little either way.” Turning to Talpo the big Brimorian asked, “What is our fleet’s state of readiness?”

“Half of our cruisers are still in the process of refuelling,” Talpo replied, looking apprehensive. “Should I order them to cease operations and prepare for combat?”

“No... order them to defend our support vessels. The reserve force can assist instead,” Siolagon replied, before returning to his command throne. His scaly claws tapped several shell-like buttons on the armrest, then a fleet command interface appeared before him. “All ships in warfleet Ibhechae... begin pursuit of the Terran forces!”

The interface lit up with conch icons as the captain of each vessel acknowledged the order. Glancing at the Tactical Map, Siolagon saw that the Shoal-Commanders leading warfleets Braoimhi and Lebheth were following his lead, their ships quickly spreading out from their tight defensive formations. The Brimorian forces were outside the gravity well of the Beta Crusis system so were able to initiate hyper-warp as soon as the vessels had dispersed.

Siolagon smiled a toothy grin of satisfaction as he watched the Terran forces flee from the Alpha Crusis system, abandoning decades of encroachment into the Callopean Shoals.

***

Admiral Alexander Morgan rushed onto the Bridge of the battleship Momus, buttoning up his jacket as he strode to the Command Chair. “Give me an update, Captain!”

Turning in her chair, Martina Greco’s face was fraught with tension. “We’re being pursued, Admiral. All three Brimorian warfleets have entered the Federation annexation of the Callopean Shoals.”

“Are they gaining on us?” he asked as he sat down, gripping the armrests tight to keep his hands from shaking.

“Matching speed,” Greco replied sombrely. “That fits with intel on Enclave hyper-warp capabilities... thank God.”

Morgan nodded his fervent agreement, his eyes flicking to the mass of blue and purple Brimorian vessels that were following in their wake. “Any sign of Dacres and his Advanced Fleet?”

“Nothing yet, Sir,” she replied, bringing up the Sector Map. “But the Sensor Grid doesn’t extend that far back into Terran Space. What’s their ETA?”

“Devereux said 3:00 am,” Morgan replied, before glancing at the chronometer, which read 12:36 am. “Goddamnit... he’s still light years away.”

“We’ll reach Terran Space proper in... seven minutes,” Greco said, studying their projected flightpath on the holographic map. “Do we hold at the border?”

Morgan stared at her incredulously and hissed under his breath, “Have you taken leave of your senses, Captain?” He jabbed a trembling finger at the pursuing alien warships. “We’re outnumbered three-to-one... we don’t stand a cat in hell’s chance against a force that size!”

The brunette nibbled nervously on her nail as she darted an anxious glance at the crew, then leaned over to whisper, “But we’ll be leaving the border completely exposed; there are colonised worlds only a couple of hours from here.”

“I’m not throwing this fleet away in a futile sacrifice, no matter how noble the cause,” Morgan snorted, shaking his head. “Our best chance of protecting those colonists is to retreat, regroup with reinforcements, then strike back at the Brimorians in force.”

Conserving fleet assets until the Federation fleets had a fighting chance against the Brimorians, was a strategically sound decision. However, they both knew that retreating from the border exposed the nearest colonies to the risk of orbital bombardment, which would result in a terrible toll in civilian lives. The tremor of fear in Morgan’s voice undermined his attempts to justify the retreat on strategic grounds.

Greco made eye-contact with him. “Can I request written confirmation of that order, Admiral?”

He glared at her, knowing she was making sure that any blame would be placed squarely on his shoulders. “Fine,” he snapped curtly.

The Momus’ captain sat back in her chair, her eyes drawn inexorably back to the Brimorian ships chasing them through the Callopean Shoals. According to predictions by the navigation computer, the Enclave forces were less than five minutes behind them, the time taken to leave Alpha Crusis’ gravity well having cost the Terran forces dearly. She stared at the rows of Brimorian cruisers at the phalanx of their formation, then her gaze swept back to the much larger battleships that carried the real firepower in that force.

The alien craft had long sweeping vanes at the rear of their narrow hulls, making them appear quite flimsy in comparison to the imposing silhouette of the much larger Federation warships. Appearances were deceptive when it came to the Brimorians though, as the lighter superstructure of their vessels was protected by powerful shielding.

“What was the reply from the Fleet Admiral?” Morgan muttered, entering a formal confirmation of his order to abandon the Brimorian border into the ship’s log.

“No answer... only acknowledgement of the message,” Greco replied, darting another worried look at the Admiral sitting beside her.

Morgan blinked in surprise. “Devereux didn’t say anything?”

She shook her head. “I was expecting to at least be asked for constant updates... but nothing at all.”

“Send another message to High Command,” Morgan said, watching as the leading ships from the Federation force crossed into Terran Space. “Tell them that we’ve retreated from the Callopean Shoals and we’re going to-”

A bright flash on the Tactical Map drew him up short and he stared in shock at the explosion that had just consumed one of the Terran cruisers. Seconds later a second warship was enveloped in a brilliant crimson blast, obliterating another cruiser in a storm of debris.

“What the hell was that?!” Greco blurted out as she half-rose from her seat.

“It was a goddamn mine!” Morgan cried out in alarm, his eyes growing wide with terror.

A third explosion tore a huge chunk out of the battleship Erebus and the stricken capital ship was violently wrenched out of hyper-warp, the initial blast knocking the 2km behemoth sideways. It tumbled onwards into the minefield where it struck two more mines, the ensuing detonations ripping the superstructure in half.

Morgan swiped his hand across the command interface and yelled, “All ships, hard to starboard!”

The fleet reacted as quickly as it could, but another cruiser was blown to pieces as it triggered a magnetic mine. The Terran forces shifted course, swinging around to the right... only for a light carrier to plough straight into another mine. The subsequent detonation vaporised the front half of the thousand-metre-long vessel and triggered secondary explosions that ripped apart the rear.

“The flanks are mined too...” Greco whispered in dread, shooting a terrified glance at the pursuing Brimorian warfleets. “They herded us into a trap!”

***

Commander Tom Walker adjusted his grip on the Claymore’s flightstick, then wiped the sweat from his hand on his jumpsuit. He began to truly appreciate the privileged position he’d had on the heavy carrier’s Bridge, being able to see a complete overview of a battle as it unfolded. Now that he was stuck in a fighter down in the Flight Deck, Tom felt woefully uninformed, making the wait for the order to launch agonising.

He tapped the comms interface icon for the lead Claymore in his wing. “Stony... any updates?”

“Nothing yet,” his wing commander replied, unable to hide the irritation in his voice.

Suddenly, the launch status flicked from red to green, catching Tom by surprise.

“Boss... what about our mission objectives?” Red Fox asked apprehensively. “Do we launch?”

“Go!” Stony yelled, followed by a deafening roar as his Claymore catapulted into the launch tube.

Tom shoved the gunship’s throttle forward and was pressed back into his seat by the thrust from its overpowered engines. His fighter raced into the narrow entrance ahead, green chevrons flashing by outside his cockpit as he picked up speed. He rocketed through the tunnel in the Janus’ armoured hull, then his Claymore blasted out into space... and straight into a hellish nightmare.

Shoving the flightstick forward, he managed to narrowly avoid a burning destroyer, the rear half a mangled wreck. Tom tried to get his bearings, but his proximity grid was a mass of red sensor contacts and it was obvious they’d been catapulted into the midst of a pitched battle. Terran vessels were scattered haphazardly in every direction, exchanged fire with huge numbers of Brimorian warships. Directly ahead of Tom’s wing, a fusillade of yellow particle beams lashed into a heavy cruiser, burning away its shields and carving deep gouges in its titanium hull. The Federation ship fired back, unloading batteries of orange beam lasers at the trio of Brimorian cruisers, but their shields held strong and repulsed the salvo.

“Err... w-what’s the plan, Stony?” Nooner stammered, shocked at the scale of the battle.

“Oh shit...” Anvil groaned. “Incoming fighters at 045... hundreds of them!”

“Fire at will!” Stony snapped, bringing the nose of his gunship around to face the waves of Brimorian fighters. “Watch each other’s backs... and keep your eyes peeled for bombers!”

The five Claymores banked around, leaving the besieged Terran heavy cruiser in their wake. Scores more gunships were pouring out from the Janus, the squadrons peeling away to engage the horde of Brimorian strike craft rushing towards the carrier group. The light carriers were still equipped with a complement of the outdated Rapiers and squadrons of those unshielded fighters fell in behind the Claymores, unable to keep up with the much faster gunships.

Tom lined himself up with one of the alien fighters, positioning his targeting reticle right on its nose. The Brimorian craft looked a bit like a squid, except that the nest of tentacles to its rear were rotating around its propulsion system as it charged towards him. His targeting computer estimated thirty seconds until the Claymore’s Gatling Lasers were in range, so Tom risked a quick glance at the holographic Tactical Map to try to get an overview of the rest of the battle.

His eyes widened in shock as he saw the sheer number of Brimorian capital ships exchanging broadsides with the Terran fleet. He was astounded that Admiral Morgan would dare to risk engaging such a numerically superior force and by the chaotic state of the Federation battle lines, it was hard to believe that any coherent defensive tactics were being employed. Yellow flashes ahead drew his attention and he watched scores of Brimorian fighters shooting particle bolts at the lead wings of Claymores.

Several of the Terran gunships exploded under the sheer weight of fire, but the rest struck back hard, hammering the Enclave strike craft with a barrage of orange laser bolts. The light Brimorian fighters were all shielded, but each Claymore was equipped with six Gatling Lasers, providing enough firepower to overwhelm their targets’ protective fields. The Terran pilots followed up with a shot from the Gauss Cannon built into the fuselage, the hyper-accelerated slugs ploughing into the

shieldless Enclave ships and blowing them apart. The Brimorians lost a score of fighters in that initial exchange, but they still outnumbered the Terran strike craft four-to-one.

Tom watched as the surviving Claymores barrelled through the Brimorian formations, then was forced to focus on his own target. The squid-like fighter was turning in a tight circle, one of several wings banking around to pursue the Terran gunships that had just blasted through their lines. He swept his targeting reticle around to lead the enemy fighter, taking into account the speed of its turn and its new heading. A quick glance at the range finder showed the distance closing dramatically, his Claymore’s massive engines giving him a huge speed advantage over the banking Brimorian.

A dozen enemy fighters rushed to engage Tom’s wing, firing bursts of particle bolts at his wingmates as they swooped past. Tom jumped in surprise, oblivious to their approach, his gaze locked squarely onto his target. Strobing yellow light flashed around his cockpit and he winced as he glanced at his shield-status... then was relieved to see it was still bright green.

“Evasive manoeuvres, Wraith!” Stony barked at him. “You were damn lucky none of them were aiming at you!”

Tom flushed with embarrassment, having got so fixated on lining up the perfect shot on the Brimorian fighter that he hadn’t noticed he was in danger. “Sorry... it won’t happen again,” he apologised, tightening his grip on the Claymore’s flightstick.

The range display flashed as he drew close enough to fire and Tom gently squeezed the trigger, anticipating the orange streams of laser fire that would lash into the Brimorian fighter.

Except nothing happened...

A moment later, there was an ominous chime and a message flashed across his HUD in big scarlet letters: “Warning! Weapons deactivated.”

“What the fuck?!” Tom blurted out in shock.

***

Admiral Morgan slumped in his chair and stared unblinking at a wedge of Brimorian battleships as they ploughed a devastating furrow through his fleet. The Terran forces were now split, with their battleships and heavy cruisers on one side and the carrier group cut off at the rear. A trio of Enclave capital ships peeled away from their formation and headed straight for the Momus, picking off its cruiser escorts with a devastating flurry of particle beams. He watched as the Glaucus was skewered by a score of yellow energy rays, the dying cruiser exploding a second later as its power core overloaded.

“They’re tearing us apart!” Greco yelled at him. “Do something!”

He looked at her with blank incomprehension, his mind having shut down, unable to cope with the stress and shock.

She gave him one last glare, then dashed over to his command chair and swept her hand over the fleet interface. “All ships... fall back!”

The holo interface flickered and Captain Bexley appeared, his round face twisted in fear. “Fall back where?! There’s mines ahead and behind!”

The Momus shuddered as it was raked by a broadside of particle beams, the Brimorian battleships pounding on the isolated command ship.

“Return fire!” she yelled at her tactical crew who were gaping at her in mute horror. “Shoot goddamn it!”

“Do you want us to engage the Brimorians or retreat?!” Captain Bexley demanded, his expression one of utter confusion.

Captain Martina Greco sobbed with frustration, fighting back the tears as she watched the Federation fleet being torn apart.

***

Tom frantically tapped the trigger again, but the Claymore’s guns still failed to respond. The same warning message flashed across his holo-display, helpfully reminding him that he was toothless in the middle of a frantic dogfight. Waggling the flightstick to jink his gunship from side to side, he accessed the subsystems menu to override the shutdown command on his guns. He navigated to the weapon loadout and saw that the six Gatling Lasers and his Gauss Cannon were all in Flight-Deck maintenance lockdown. Tapping the holo display for the lasers, he heard a dull beep, but nothing else seemed to happen.

“Shields out!” Nooner cried out in alarm. “There’s too many of them!”

Repeatedly pressing the override button resulted in nothing more than an infuriating number of beeps, the stubborn weapon control system refusing to reactivate Tom’s guns. He tore his eyes from the holo-display and glanced out the cockpit, then watched transfixed as a Terran battleships was savaged by the Brimorians. He saw the flare of escape pods along its hull as the crew fled the dying vessel, the Momus still valiantly trying to withstand the deadly firepower of the enemy guns. It was hit by a concentrated volley of particle beams and Admiral Morgan’s flagship broke apart, the superstructure severed across its spine.

“Wraith, I’ve got some on me!” Anvil yelled, drawing his attention. “Need an assist!”

Tom searched the proximity grid for his wingman and saw Anvil’s Claymore spinning and diving as it tried to shake four Brimorian fighters. His heart sank as he remembered he was powerless to

intervene and could only watch helplessly as the big pilot was forced to make wild evasive manoeuvres.

Swiping his finger across the comms interface, he said urgently, “Stony! My Claymore’s guns are locked up! I can’t get them to respond!”

His warning was met with deathly silence, so Tom double-checked the communications systems again. He stared at it in disbelief as he realised that his comms now seemed to be broken too, leaving him unable to speak to his wingmates.

“Walker, help!” Anvil cried out frantically, the tactical overlay showing that his shields were down and his Claymore had taken damage to the starboard wing.

Tom hammered at the comms system but it was completely unresponsive.

“I can’t get to him, Walker!” Stony barked a second later. “You’re in the clear... help him!”

“I can’t!” Tom yelled in frustration, giving up on the comms system and trying to activate his guns again.

The Brimorian strike craft had engaged the Rapiers now and those antiquated ships were being systematically annihilated by the numerically superior and more advanced aliens. The ratio of Terran ships to Brimorians was rapidly diminishing, putting the Claymores in even greater jeopardy. Realising that there was nothing he could do with his gunship crippled by system failures, Tom pulled back on his stick and swung the Claymore around. He located the Janus and headed towards the heavy carrier, intending to dock and get his ship fixed.

“Goddamnit! Get back here, Walker!” Stony yelled, his voice a mixture of shock and indignant outrage.

“No!” Anvil screamed, his gunship obliterated in a hail of particle bolts.

Tom tried to shut down the comms interface, but it refused to obey his command.

“Please, Walker!” Red Fox begged him. “We need you!”

He swallowed around the lump in his throat as he flew towards the Janus and kept trying to reactivate the Claymore’s weapons. All around him scores of Brimorian fighters raced past, ignoring him in their rush to join the bigger dogfight, having already wiped out the last of the Rapiers. As he barrelled towards the Janus, Tom was forced to listen to his comrades being killed off one by one, each of them cursing him for a coward.

Through tear-filled eyes, he approached the heavy carrier that had been his home for the last three years, only to find that he was too late. The Janus’ massive titanium hull was a ragged patchwork of scars, where Brimorian particle beams had carved glowing chunks from the armour plating. Half-a-

dozen Enclave cruisers were harrying the enormous Federation ship with beam salvos and there was a huge explosion when they blasted its engines, setting the rear of the heavy carrier ablaze as ruptured fuel lines ignited. Tom could only stare in horror at the dying capital ship as it was slowly eviscerated by the merciless Brimorians.

“Beth, please be alive... “ he whispered, desperately hoping she’d managed to reach an escape pod. His thoughts turned to all his friends aboard the Janus, then one man in particular he’d known his entire life, who was currently confined to his quarters. “Oh my God... Mace...”

***

Wave Squire Talpo slavered with anticipation as he watched the last of the Terran battleships savaged by scores of Brimorian capital ships. The hulking grey monster was somehow still operational, despite having its hull ruptured in at least a score of different locations. More Enclave vessels joined in the brutal execution, scything yellow beams across the battered hull until the Federation battleship broke apart in a rippling chain of explosions.

With a smug grin of triumph, he turned to Siolagon and declared, “The last of the vile Terrans have been vanquished, Shoal-Commander!”

Siolagon turned from his close scrutiny of the Sector Map, his noble features twisted with anger. “Someone destroyed HCJ-C-1482? Who was the imbecile who countermanded my orders?! I’ll have their head for this!”

Wave Squire Gulpos made a gurgling noise in his throat to draw his leader’s attention. “Talpo misspoke, Sire. The Terran Claymore is unharmed; Cruiser Mirdghu managed to capture the fighter in a tractor beam and the pilot has been taken into custody. I have requested that they dock with the Swirl of Shadows so that the prisoner can be... processed... as you ordered, Shoal-Commander.”

The tension eased from Siolagon’s bulky frame. “Exemplary work, Wave Squire. The Lahlenori will arrive shortly... they are to be accorded all courtesies as honoured guests when they dock.”

“As you command, Sire,” Gulpos said, his fins dipping obsequiously.

Wave Squire Talpo bristled with fury at the injustice as his rival was praised yet again, while all he had managed to do is provoke Siolagon’s ire. Spotting Gulpos’ sly smirk was almost more than he could bear.

Grinding his pointed teeth in exasperation, Talpo blurted out, “I’ve located the traitor, Shoal-Commander! One of the Terran escape pods is transmitting a Brimorian distress code.”

Siolagon chuckled, the deep rasping laughter echoing around the murky Bridge. “Ah, what is it that the Terrans say? To possess the luck of the damned... Have him brought aboard; I wish to personally commend him for his service to the Enclave.”

Talpo smiled to see his leader in such a good mood. “I’ll issue a fleetwide broadcast to begin retrieval of escape pods, Shoal-Commander.”

“Must I repeat all my orders to you, Talpo?” Siolagon asked, making an exasperated rasp with his teeth. “I care nothing for the others, only the traitor. Execute the rest as an example to the Terran Federation; they must pay the price for the indignity of their annexation of the Callopean Shoals.”

“Yes, Sire,” Talpo muttered glumly, trying to ignore the look of glee in Gulpos’ eyes at his misfortune.

Siolagon rose from his command throne. “I will inform the Deep Pool of our glorious victory. Notify me when the Lahlenori dock.”

The two underlings bowed to him and watched the Shoal-Commander leave, before turning their malevolent black-eyed gaze to the hundreds of escape pods floating helplessly in space.

***

Where a beautiful green planet had dominated the view through the sweeping windows, there was now a black expanse filled with glittering stars. Rahn’hagon checked the Sector Map to verify that they’d arrived at the correct destination, then nodded with satisfaction, recognising star systems that he hadn’t visited in nearly 10 millennia. Activating the dreadnought’s cloaking device, he left the Bridge, confident that the primitive silicon lifeforms that occupied this inhospitable section of space would have no chance of detecting him.

He followed the snaking ethereal cable that connected him to Jessica, using its soft glow to lead him straight to his troubled matriarch. They hadn’t spoken since their last confrontation and he braced himself for another outburst as he opened the door, entering an almost identical copy of the kitchen in his own ship on Arcadia. He found Jessica slumped dejectedly on a chair, staring at a knife she was slowly spinning on one of the worktops.

Rahn’hagon darted across the room in a blur and snatched the knife from her hand. “No! I forbid you from harming yourself!” he yelled, appalled that she’d even been considering it.

She looked up at him with pain in her eyes. “The knife wasn’t for me...”

Shocked by her reply, he was terribly hurt that it had come to this. “Jess... I’m sorry. I made a mistake, but can’t we find a way to get past this?”

“You’re sorry?” the brunette muttered, letting out a humourless laugh. “My parents are dead, Rahn. They went to their graves thinking that I couldn’t care less about them. My son spent the last 40 years wondering why I’d abandoned him... and when he finally tracked me down, all I could do was talk about how wonderful you are and beg him to rescue you. John’s my son and I’ve never even told him I loved him!” she sobbed, her eyes welling up.

Rahn’hagon rubbed a hand over his face. “That wasn’t your fault, Jess... there are things you don’t understand...”

“Oh, I understand alright,” she snapped, brushing away the tears. “What kind of inhuman monster have you turned me into?!”

“What?” he blurted out, looking at her in shock.

“You heard me!” she snarled, eyes flashing dangerously. “Alyssa told me all about what Progenitors can do to their thralls! I know you mind-fucked me; changed me so I didn’t give a shit about anyone but you!” She shook her head in disgust. “All that time I spent on my knees sucking your cock and thinking how much you loved me... but I was nothing to you... just another obedient thrall you could use to empty your quad!”

He reeled back in the face of her fury. “Jess, it was never like that!”

“I know you changed my body... What about screwing up my mind?” she demanded, following after him. “Are you going to deny you messed around with my personality? The old me would never have just turned my back on all my family like that... NEVER!”

Rahn’hagon backed into the far wall, then grimaced as he saw the look of fury on Jessica’s face. With a ragged sigh, he raised his hands and said in an authoritative tone, “Stop behaving like this, Jessica. Calm down so we can discuss this rationally.”

“Fuck you!” she snapped, growing increasingly irate.

He gaped at her incredulously as she ignored a direct order. “Be silent!” he commanded with a hint of desperation in his voice, trying to defuse her temper.

She bared her teeth and actually snarled at him. “Who the fuck do you think you are?! You arrogant shit!”

Jessica stormed out of the kitchen and Rahn’hagon could only watch her departure in open-mouthed astonishment.

***

Anthony Kester walked out onto the Bridge of the Heimdall, his gaze sweeping across the men and women serving as crew of the night watch. They were bright and alert despite the late hour, but he expected nothing less from the elite crew of a Terran Federation dreadnought.

“Good evening, Admiral,” Captain Felipe Cardoza said, greeting him with a polite nod. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Kester waved him away with one hand, then took a sip from his mug of hot tea. “Don’t worry, this isn’t a surprise inspection.... I just couldn’t sleep.” He gave the captain a sly smile. “I won’t be here long; you guys can all relax in a minute.”

“I can assure you that my crew always conduct themselves to the highest of standards, Admiral,” Cardoza said a little stiffly, offended at even the playful hint at impropriety.

Trying not to sigh, Kester nodded and let it drop. The Captain might be an excellent officer, but Cardoza believed in running everything by the book... and seemed to have had a sense-of-humour bypass at the Academy.

Turning his attention to the holographic Sector Map, the admiral studied the glowing red line that marked the border between the Terran Federation and Brimorian Enclave. They were still over two days away from the rendezvous with Admiral Morgan in the Callopean Shoals and were currently sailing through the Taxarran Straights. This area of space had received the name from the streaky orange nebula that swept through the sector, the aftermath of a gigantic supernova that had slowly dispersed over millions of years.

Clearing his throat to break the awkward silence, Kester asked, “Any sign of the Brimorians? I’m surprised they’re not shadowing us along the border.”

Cardoza gestured towards the map. “If they are maintaining a border presence, their fleet must be set back beyond the limits of the sensor grid. However, attacking this section of space would be a futile endeavour. I’m sure the Enclave are well aware of just how strongly defended the closest Federation systems are... and without being able to secure meaningful territorial gains, any creeping encroachment on deep space would be pointless.”

Kester nodded as he listened to the man’s dry analysis and began to wish he’d just stayed in his quarters. He glanced back at the Sector Map, then spotted a flash of red as unidentified contacts began to appear at the outer edge of the Heimdall’s sensor range. Even more shocking was that they were deep within Terran Space rather than being at the border.

“What the hell?” he muttered, staring at the increasing number of unknown ships. “Are they Brimorians?!”

Captain Cardoza frowned and turned to look at the holographic map, then blinked in astonishment. “That’s impossible, they can’t just appear out of nowhere! The Sensor Grid should have picked them up hours ago!” Facing the dreadnought’s Chief Engineer, he snapped, “Are the Heimdall’s sensors malfunctioning? Is that erroneous data?”

The stunned officer shook his head, his eyes flicking anxiously over the Engineering console. “All internal systems are performing at optimal efficiency. If there is an error, it’s not with our sensors.” He pressed several buttons on his station, then squinted up at the mass of red contacts on the map. “The Agamemnon is seeing exactly the same thing... which means the uplink from the sensor grid must be defective!”

“So much for the Brimorians thinking an attack was pointless,” Kester noted, although he wasn’t smiling now.

“Set an intercept course,” Cardoza ordered his helmsman. “We must prevent them from making further inroads into Federation Space!”

“Belay that order,” Kester said curtly. He strode over to his command chair and activated the Fleet Command Interface. “All vessels... hold position.”

The fleet responded quickly to his orders, dropping out of hyperspace and coming to a complete stop.

“But Sir!” Cardoza protested. “We’ve stumbled across a Brimorian invasion! We need to intercept them now before they strike too deeply into Federation territory!”

“They’re just sitting there,” Kester said, nodding his chin towards the map. “Think about it for a second... If you’d just invaded enemy territory, would you park up in deep space and wait for enemy fleets to intercept you?”

Cardoza frowned and stared at the holographic image in confusion. “No... I’d search for priority targets.”

“Right... which means those slippery bastards are up to something.”

“What are your orders, Admiral?” the captain asked, looking at his commanding officer with newfound respect.

Kester paced for a few moments, mulling over his options. “Change course to heading 090... re-engage hyper-warp.”

“That will take us into Enclave territory!” the helmsman gasped, turning to look at him wide-eyed.

“That’s right. The Brimorians seem to think it’s okay for them to take a jaunt into our territory, so it’s only fair we get to do the same in theirs.”

The helmsman couldn’t help grinning as he powered up the Heimdall’s engines and began to turn the dreadnought directly away from the Brimorian invaders.

Captain Cardoza stepped closer towards the Command Chair as Kester issued a rapid series of orders to the fleet. “This is very risky, Admiral. We’re directly contravening Federation threat response protocols. In fact, we’re doing the exact opposite of what those protocols mandate!”

“Yeah... it certainly looks that way,” Kester murmured, staring intently at the fleet of enemy ships.

There was a tense silence on the Bridge as the Terran fleet turned towards the Brimorian border and re-engaged their hyper-warp drives. After a couple of minutes, the Enclave forces moved to pursue them, although they took a circumspect route rather than the quickest and most direct path.

Cardoza pointed it out. “Look! They’re deliberately avoiding something!”

“Probably a minefield,” Kester said, looking unsurprised. “They must have been expecting us to chase after them and fly right into it. If they’ve compromised our sensor grid, they would’ve known we were coming for hours.”

“Shall I alert High Command?” the comms officer suggested.

“If the Brimorians have hacked the border sensors, I’d bet a million credits that they’ve already shut down the closest Comms Beacon too,” the admiral said grimly. “Try contacting High Command, but don’t be surprised when you can’t get through.”

A minute later, the same officer looked up from her console. “No response, Sir.”

Kester acknowledged her with a nod, then focused on the map again. The Terran fleet had crossed over into Enclave territory and the Brimorian border force was now pursuing them. The minutes ticked by, with both fleets heading deeper into Brimorian Space.

“Alright, turn to a heading of 235,” Kester said, staring at the map, before updating the fleet with his new orders.

“We’re going back into Terran Space?” Cardoza asked, looking completely bewildered. “But the Brimorians are too close... they’ll be able to interdict us before we reach the border! We’ll never be able to escape them now!”

“Yeah,” the admiral said, cracking his knuckles. “That’s what I want them to think.”

“You want them to initiate the battle against us?” the captain asked in confusion.

Kester ignored him as he was intently focused on the holo-screen, his fingers tapping out commands on the fleet interface. He rolled his eyes in frustration and confirmed the orders he’d just given to several of the capital ship commanders. Meanwhile, the Terran fleet had all pivoted and were making a run for the Terran border, with the Brimorians rushing to catch them on an intercept course.

“Get ready to drop out of hyper-warp on my command,” Kester ordered the helmsman.

He watched the two fleets move inexorably together, with the vanguard of the Brimorian forces getting close enough to use interdictors on the Terran cruisers.

The instant he saw one of the Federation vessels knocked out of hyper-warp, he barked, “Now!”

The Heimdall dropped out of hyper-warp along with the rest of the Terran Federation fleet, just as the Brimorians started to appear next to them in a rippling wave. Rather than scattering haphazardly across space, Kester’s fleet moved with purpose, pivoting towards their pursuers and ramping up power to their engines. Interdiction range was only just beyond Beam Laser range, so in a matter of seconds, the closest of the Brimorian cruisers was exposed to terrifying rows of Terran guns.

“Focus Beam Laser fire on my targets!” Kester ordered, uploading the target selection to the rest of the ships in his fleet.

Instead of splitting off into squadrons and engaging the enemy at numerous points along the battle-lines, all the Terran forces hammered the closest Enclave cruiser with a terrifying beam barrage. Even the tougher Brimorian shields stood no chance against that much firepower and as soon as they winked out, the alien cruiser was pounded by Heavy Cannon shells. Blue plating exploded outwards as the massive ordnance smashed into the lightly-armoured warship, and in a matter of seconds, the cruiser was atomised in a ferocious detonation. The scenario was repeated in a rippling series of explosions along the Brimorian frontline, as one cruiser after another was targeted for annihilation.

The Brimorians fired back, yellow particle beams lancing towards the closing Federation forces and causing a heavy toll of their own. The Terran shields offered a fraction of the protection that their Brimorian counterparts provided, but their robust hulls were able to take far greater punishment. Kester saw several of his own cruisers lose their shields and start taking severe damage to their hulls, but he never wavered. The Heimdall itself was leading the charge towards the Brimorian lines and drew a huge volume of incoming fire, the shields rippling violently as they struggled to hold against the onslaught.

The Chief Engineer turned in his seat to face the Command Podium. “Shields at 17%! We’re taking a pounding, Admiral!”

“We’re at short range, Sir!” the helmsman warned, his voice wavering. Accustomed to positioning the dreadnought at the rear of Terran formations, he glanced over his shoulder and added, “Hold here?”

“Negative,” Kester said curtly, his gaze locked onto the Brimorian battleship directly ahead of them. “Ramming Speed!”

The helmsman’s mouth fell open in shock.

“You heard the Admiral,” Captain Cardoza said, an excited gleam in his eyes. “Divert more power to the engines!”

The Brimorians watched the Heimdall’s reckless charge in confusion, having already been caught off-guard by the ferocious Terran response to the interdiction. They were expecting the Federation fleet to slow down and exchange broadsides at point blank range, so they never suspected for one

moment that Admiral Kester planned to use the enormous dreadnought as a battering ram. When it increased speed and barrelled onwards, the Brimorian Shoal-Commander in the central battleship began to panic. The Enclave capital ship ramped up power to the retro-thrusters and started a desperate turn, its main engines flaring brightly as it began evasive manoeuvres.

The Brimorian battleship still had full shields, having not taken so much as a single hit from a Laser Cannon, but they offered no protection against 3000 metres of heavy steel and titanium. The Heimdall rammed the Enclave vessel at full speed, striking amidships with a thunderous crash that made both vessels quake violently with the impact. The Brimorian battleship seemed to groan in protest, then the superstructure fractured, the dreadnought cleaving the huge alien craft in half.

As the Heimdall ploughed onwards, the battleship wreckage spun away, causing more mayhem through the Brimorian formation. The rear smashed into an escorting cruiser, crushing the hull like a rotten egg and killing most of the crew as they were flung out into space. All along the battle lines, much larger Federation battleships smashed headlong into their flimsier Brimorian counterparts, crippling the entire complement of Enclave capital ships in an orgy of destruction.

Admiral Kester clung to his Command Chair to avoid being thrown from his seat, the Heimdall shaking violently with the tremendous force of the impact. As terrifying as that collision had been, he could only imagine what it must have been like for the Brimorians aboard the battleship he’d just ripped asunder.

“Damage report?”

The Chief Engineer stared wild-eyed at his console. “System failures reported across the bow section... hull compromised on deck 37 through to deck 42.” He looked up and grinned. “But it could’ve been a hell of a lot worse, Sir!”

Nodding with satisfaction, Kester studied the now grossly one-sided battle on the Tactical Map. All the Brimorian heavy warships had been destroyed, leaving only two score of cruisers, several carriers and their complement of strike craft. The Terran carrier group was responding quickly to support their capital ships, with Rapiers forming up into squadrons to protect the bomber groups heading towards the intense firefight in the centre of the battlefield.

“All ships fire at will!” Kester ordered. “Let’s finish this!”

***

Vice Admiral Richard Dacres was jolted awake as the alarm went off, his hammering heartbeat in sync with the grating noise. Shutting off the alarm, he checked the chronometer and confirmed that it was now 2:30 am. He yawned loudly and got out of bed, then donned his uniform, jamming the peaked cap on his head as he left his quarters. Strictly speaking, it wasn’t necessary for him to be on the Bridge when his fleet arrived at the Callopean Shoals. However, after Fleet Admiral Devereux’s dire warnings of caution before their departure from Olympus Shipyard, he wanted to make sure everything went smooth and by the numbers.

The corridors were quiet at this time of night, with the majority of the crew fast asleep in their bunks. Although the fleet was in deep space and not tied to any solar cycle, the Federation Navy kept to Terran Standard Time for ease of interactions between ships and colonies. Only the night shift were at their posts in the early hours of the morning, so Dacres reached the Bridge without encountering another soul.

Commodore Carolyn Hallister was the newly appointed commanding officer of the Vengeance of Hera and she greeted Dacres with a smile. “Good morning, Admiral.”

“It’s far too early to be that cheerful,” he playfully admonished the attractive brunette. With a curious glance, he added, “I thought Captain Gelarde was on night watch?”

“I offered to swap shifts with him,” she replied, sounding a little self-conscious.

“Ah, you’re trying to make a good impression too?” he asked, giving her a knowing look.

She leaned closer and whispered, “I didn’t want to be asleep when we arrived at the Brimorian border. It’s the first time I’ve been in command of a capital ship, let alone a dreadnought.”

He nodded in understanding, having read her dossier when the Hera was attached to his advanced fleet. Carolyn Hallister had commanded the heavy cruiser Notus during the Battle of Terra, receiving a promotion after gallantly sacrificing her ship to protect a heavy carrier from a marauding Kintark battleship. Bereft of her own vessel after the battle, she had applied to become the new captain of the re-commissioned dreadnought.

The Vengeance of Hera had lost all its previous crew in the same battle, the traitorous Federation personnel all electrocuted by Irillith when she seized control of the heavily upgraded behemoth. Although the Hera was now the most powerful warship in the Terran Federation navy, there was considerable superstition attached to vessels associated with rebellion. Thanks to the Hera’s dark history, the newly-promoted commodore had been granted command of a vessel she wouldn’t normally have been eligible for, until she’d served for at least another ten years.

“The Hera’s a big step up from the Notus,” Dacres said, turning to look at the huge Command Deck. “I remember what it was like taking command of the Nereus... and she’s just a battleship.”

“Not just any battleship,” Hallister said, with a gleam in her eyes. “I read the AAR of your defence of Olympus. You managed to hold off a Praetorian Guard warfleet, the very best of the Kintark navy, while outnumbered 4-to-1!”

Dacres shook his head. “I can’t take any credit for that. The tactics we used were all devised by the Lioness.”

Hallister paused, taken by surprise. She thought about the beautiful Latina for a moment, then asked in a hushed voice, “Is it true Calara Fernandez is only 18?”

He glanced at her and nodded. “She’s young... but don’t ever make the mistake of underestimating her.” Looking away into the distance, he continued quietly, “I hated the Kintark for what they did to Port Medea, but Calara actually made me feel sorry for the poor bastards after we were done with them. That Praetorian Guard warfleet had to endure us crossing their T over 60 times. Sixty full broadsides for over ten minutes... I still have nightmares about it.”

“I read the report,” Hallister said, looking curious. “If it was that bad, why didn’t the Kintark retreat? They could have called off the attack on Olympus and fled the system.”

“No, they couldn’t,” he replied, his expression grim. “My fleet had the edge in speed and firepower... it was what made our defence so devastating. By the time we’d destroyed half their fleet, the Kintark couldn’t run; they were too far into the gravity well to escape. We would have hunted them down and wiped them out to a ship. I’ve had lots of time to think about it since the battle... I’m convinced Calara planned it that way. The defence of Olympus was always meant to brutally crush that Kintark fleet with maximum loss of life; it was a show of force, designed to prove to High Command what would have happened to the Kintark armada if they’d consulted her before the Battle of Terra.”

“But... you didn’t lose a single ship!” Hallister blurted out incredulously.

Dacres made eye contact with her. “The Notus was destroyed before the last stand at Saturn, wasn’t it?”

She frowned with regret. “I spent the last thirty minutes of the battle in an escape pod.”

“Well I led the advanced fleet on a flank attack against the last of the Kintark forces, so I saw exactly what happened to them. If the Lioness had full command of our fleets from the start, the entire battle would have been a brutal one-sided bloodbath. I’ve heard that Calara predicted no more than 10% Terran casualties if she’d been in charge... but I think she was being modest.”

There was no mistaking his conviction and Hallister was shocked at the thought. Dacres wasn’t the only one to have nightmares after the Battle of Terra, but hers usually involved hordes of green Kintark warships tearing the Notus apart. “Less than 10% fleet losses?” she asked incredulously.

Dacres nodded, then surreptitiously glanced around the Bridge to make sure no one was in earshot. Stepping closer to Hallister, he whispered, “Have you noticed that the Lion’s been taking out all our hostile neighbours? I’m sure the Brimorians days are numbered... you might even get to see Blake and his Lionesses in action.”

Before she could reply, one of the tactical officers turned their way and called out, “Admiral? I’m picking up lots of contacts on our long-range sensors...”

He frowned and turned to look at the holographic map, where a swathe of unknown objects was being displayed at the edge of their sensor range. “Are they Brimorians? Could they have slipped past the fleet?”

The tactical officer hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t think so, Sir.” Pointing to a couple of objects further back that were now circled in green, he replied, “There are friendlies there... but no one’s moving.”

“Perhaps the border fleet fought off an attack,” Dacres said pensively, leaning forward in his seat. “Hail them.”

After a painfully long minute, the communications officer shook his head. “No response, Admiral.”

Dacres shared a worried glance with Commodore Hallister, then they watched as the advanced fleet flew towards the mass of sensor contacts. When they drew close enough for the sensors to start receiving more detailed information, the holographic Tactical Map began to display three-dimensional images.

“Oh my God...” Dacres muttered under his breath, staring in horror at the scene of devastation spread out before him.

“That’s the border fleet!” Hallister gasped, her hand going to her mouth.

There was no mistaking the wreckage of Terran Federation warships, their titanium plated hulls grey and lifeless against the black backdrop of space. The only signs of movement were the slowly dying fires in several of the burned-out wrecks, the entire fleet reduced to a mournful graveyard for the many thousands of people who had died there. Even the false hope the green sensor contacts had given them proved to be a lie, those ships little more than battle-ravaged hulks.

“Transponders must still be active...” the Tactical Officer mumbled, staring appalled at the carnage.

Shaking off his shock, Dacres said, “Get closer and start scanning those wrecks, we need to rescue any survivors. Locate escape pods and let’s get those people to safety.”

The communications officer turned to him, a hand at his headset. “Sir... I’m not picking up any distress beacons.”

That left only two possibilities for the escape pods. Either the Brimorians had taken all the Terran survivors prisoner... or the Enclave forces had committed a terrible atrocity.

There was silence on the Bridge as the fleet approached the battlefield, until the Chief Engineer choked out a strangled cry. “Those fucking bastards!”

Dacres looked at him questioningly, but the zoomed in holo-image that the man displayed gave him the answer he was dreading. There was no mistaking the distinctive red and white stripes of a Terran

Federation escape pod... even with the blackened scars from particle bolts marring its shattered surface.

“Scan the wrecks... there might still be people alive,” Dacres said, slumping in his Command Chair.

“Sir... more contacts...”

The admiral looked up and saw a carefully ordered formation of sensor contacts at the extreme edge of sensor range. They were moving steadily across the map, travelling from left to right.

“That’s the border with the Callopean Shoals,” Hallister said in a hushed voice. “The Brimorians have reclaimed their territory...”

“Alert High Command,” Dacres said, turning to make eye-contact with the communications officer. “Tell them what happened here. Tell them... we’ve lost the border fleet and the Callopean Shoals.”

The comms officer acknowledged his order with a shaky nod, then initiated a broadcast with the pulse generator attached to the Hera’s communications relay. He was quiet for a long moment, then said, “The message was acknowledged, but there was no other reply.”

The Terran advanced fleet spread out amongst the wreckage, carefully searching for any sign of life. It was a painstaking process, with each Federation ship performing an active scan to look for Terran personnel in the battered hulks.

“Still nothing?” Dacres asked, looking back at the comms officer who had been checking for new messages from High Command. When he received a rueful headshake in answer to his question, the admiral turned to his Chief Engineer. “And you’re sure there’s no survivors?”

“The Brimorians deliberately killed them all, Sir,” he replied, his voice breaking. “They scanned the wrecks for survivors and blasted any they found.”

“Fucking animals...” Dacres snarled, glaring at the massive Brimorian fleet parading along the new border between the two empires. “Alright, prepare to withdraw. The Brimorians must have done something to the nearest comms beacon, or the border fleet would have called for help. We’ll head coreward until we can re-establish contact with High Command and await new orders.”

The helmsman let out a heavy sigh, then set a new course that would take them away from the border and back towards Terra.

“Wait!” the Chief Engineer suddenly blurted out. “It’s the Hyperion... they found someone!”

The engineering officer patched through the vid-feed he was receiving from the Terran battleship. Crashed into the broken remains of a Federation destroyer was a badly mangled Claymore fighter, the gunship’s fuselage barely intact. Both wings had been shot off and what was left of the hull

showed hits from a dozen particle bolts. The tail had been scorched by flames when the engines had been destroyed, but the tailcode was just visible amidst the blackened scars: “HCJ-C-1482”.

***

Lynette awoke the next morning and turned to reach for Charles, then her heart sank when she remembered that she’d slept the night alone. After the awkward conversation the previous evening, she knew there was something else bothering him... and the veiled reference to her reminding him of Alyssa gave Lynette a pretty good idea of what it was. A glance at the chronometer showed that it was 6:07 am, so she rolled out of bed, wanting to catch her fiancé before he started his day.

Heading into the shower, Lynette was determined to clear the air and remind Charles just how much she loved him. Soaping herself down under the jets of water, she idly ran her fingers over her beautifully sculpted stomach, tracing the toned muscles as she felt that familiar hunger in the pit of her belly. Lustful thoughts turned to anxiety and she wondered again about telling Charles the full story behind the Change...

She really didn’t want to keep any secrets from her fiancé, but Lynette had no idea how he’d react to hearing the truth. Charles knew that John had healed her near-fatal injuries and triggered this miraculous rejuvenation of her body, but he didn’t know the intimate details of the process. While Lynette had never actually had any sexual contact with John, she’d spent several glorious days with her stomach swollen with his cum, courtesy of Jade who kept her constantly stuffed full.

When the Change was complete, Lynette had then actively pursued Charles, seducing him with her youthful alter-ego Marie. While there was no cross-over between being kept topped up and dating Charles, the timing was awfully close. She imagined various disastrous ways that awkward conversation could pan out, then sighed and quickly rinsed herself off.

Dressing in her Fleet Admiral’s uniform, Lynette walked through the lounge to the kitchen, then turned on the comms interface as she made herself a salmon bagel. Her eyes swept down the dozens of new messages that morning and she was surprised to not see any notification from Vice Admiral Dacres confirming that he’d reinforced Admiral Morgan in the Callopean Shoals. She thought about contacting the Hera to check they’d arrived safely, but didn’t want to badger the recently promoted officer, in case he mistook her concern for lack of confidence in him. Finishing off her breakfast, she headed for the door with a spring in her step, eager to make things right with her fiancé.

Hitting the button to open the door, it slid open and Lynette nearly walked right into Admiral Harris who was standing right outside. “Charles!” she exclaimed in delight.

“Lynette!” he blurted out in alarm, shoving her back into her quarters.

She blinked in surprise, looking at him in astonishment as he hurriedly sealed the door behind him. “What’s wrong?”

He let out an exasperated sigh, then turned her to face the mirror in the lobby. Lynette saw her own bemused expression as she stared at herself... the youthful reflection of a stunningly beautiful 20-year-old girl.

“Oh shit, I totally forgot!” Whirling around, Lynette gave her fiancé a grateful hug. “Thank God you were there, I nearly blew the whole thing!” She paused and pulled back to look at him. “What were you doing out there anyway?”

Charles coughed awkwardly and blushed. “I... ah... couldn’t sleep. I wanted to say I was sorry.”

“Oh, darling... you had nothing to apologise for,” she gushed, her hazel eyes softening. Slipping her hand into his, she led him back into the lounge. “You were right about the way I handled the Chapman situation... I was much too harsh. I should have encouraged him to stand down, rather than push him into a public confrontation like that. I’ll see that he receives a dishonourable discharge rather than having him executed for treason.”

“I know that your motivations were good... and it must have been frustrating with him being deliberately obstructive,” Charles said as he sat down on the sofa. He paused and looked at his fiancée in surprise as she knelt on the floor rather than taking a seat. “Lynette?”

She looked contrite and humble kneeling before him. “I forgot my disguise because I was distracted this morning. I was rushing to see you, so that I could tell you how sorry I was... and how much I love you.”

Charles gently cupped her cheek and smiled. “I feel the same way. I spent the night tossing and turning, worried that you were going to break off the engagement.”

Lynette turned and gently kissed his hand. “I would never do that.” She studied his pensive expression and continued, “Charles, have I ever given you the impression that I would be unfaithful to you?”

He looked at her in surprise, then shook his head. “No... of course not! What made you think that?”

“When you woke me yesterday, you made a comment about not expecting to catch me sleeping with someone else this quickly.”

“It was just a joke...” he said, with a half-hearted smile.

She looked him in the eyes and said, “Please be honest with me, Charles. Are you worried that I’m going to leave you?”

He paused for a moment, various emotions flashing across his face until he suddenly deflated. “I was married before, Lynette. She left me 25 years ago for another man and it still hurts today. Emma said I was ‘married to the military’ and that I was a terrible husband for neglecting her... and she was right.”

“I was married to the military too,” Lynette said with a self-conscious smile. “But we got divorced when I met you.”

Charles couldn’t help chuckling. “I feel the same way. I suppose that makes you my third wife.”

“So the engagement is still on then?” she asked, her smile broadening as she held up her left hand and wiggled her ring finger, the big diamond sparkling in the light.

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze flickering over Lynette’s statuesque body, then back to her exquisitely beautiful face. “Lynette... with the way you look, you could have any man you want. Are you really sure you want to be married to me?”

Lynette nodded and said earnestly, “I promise I’ll never leave you, Charles. I’ll be yours for as long as you want me.”

Charles caressed her cheek and said quietly, “There’s a 34-year age gap between us now... physically at least. Are you still going to feel the same way in 30 years?”

“Definitely,” she replied, without the slightest hint of doubt.

“How can you be so sure?” he asked, surprised by her vehemence.

She interlaced her fingers with his and gently stroked the back of his hand. “It’s a Lioness thing. We’re dedicated to our man... and you’re all mine.”

His eyes flickered with uncertainty. “I know you’ve got a special connection with Alyssa... and with John too...”

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Lynette asked softly. “I don’t want you to worry about a problem that just isn’t there.”

Charles chewed his lip nervously, then replied, “I want to respect your privacy, but I can tell there’s some things you don’t want me to know.”

With a quiet sigh of resignation, Lynette squeezed his hand. “It’s more important that you don’t have any doubts. Just ask me about whatever’s bothering you... I promise I’ll tell you the truth.”

“Did you sleep with John?” he asked her apprehensively.

She smiled and shook her head. “You’ve asked me that before and the answer’s still no. In the spirit of full disclosure, I kissed him once... but it was more of a good luck kiss before he went into battle.”

“But you are connected to him and Alyssa? There’s some kind of... psychic link between you, where they can hear your thoughts?”

Lynette sat back on her haunches and carefully uncoupled her fingers from his. “John is a Progenitor. His species creates a psychic network with all the women they’re connected to and use a Matriarch to manage the eldritch energy they provide.”

Holding her hand out flat she said, “John.” Placing her other hand underneath, she stated, “Alyssa.” Moving both hands lower, she kept them flat and touched the tips of her index fingers together. “All of the enthralled women in the network... or as you know them, his Lionesses.”

“So you’re ‘enthralled’ by John?” Charles asked with a grimace.

She tilted her head to one side. “If he was a regular Progenitor, I’d be his mindlessly obedient slave... but John’s not like that. He can’t read my mind, it’s only Alyssa that can hear my thoughts... and just the things I want to share with her. She can use my psychic energy herself, or give it to John... which is why Jehanna and I were so tired yesterday; they used our energy to fight against Larn’kelnar. The process is harmless, but it left us exhausted.”

He nodded thoughtfully, as things fell into place. Raising an eyebrow, Charles looked at her again and asked, “You said you’re dedicated to your man... but what about women? You made that comment about just sleeping with the really pretty girls, which I assumed was a joke at the time, but now it’s got me thinking. Have you slept with Jehanna?”

Lynette smiled and nodded. “You put us in bed together, remember?” She quickly added, “But nothing sexual happened between us... and it won’t. Jehanna is one of John’s girls and I belong to you now... it wouldn’t be right.” She blushed as she continued, “Although, in the spirit of full disclosure, I have been to bed with Alyssa... and we didn’t do much sleeping.”

Charles gaped at her in shock. “You had sex with Alyssa?!”

“I was single at the time and it happened before I started trying to seduce you,” she informed him, her manner open and honest. “Alyssa cares a great deal about the girls she’s connected to... and she’s gentle and kind, and so very beautiful.”

He swallowed and shifted awkwardly in his seat.

Lynette gave him a coy smile. “I take it you don’t find the thought of us together too distressing?”

Charles coughed and turned bright red. “Ah... no.”

She giggled and stroked his thigh. “Good!” After a pause, she made eye contact with him again and continued, “It was a one-off though and it won’t happen again. Like I said before, I was single at the time, so it was alright. Now I’m with you, the situation has changed, so being intimate with any of John’s girls would be inappropriate.”

He looked at her perceptively. “But girls who aren’t connected to John?”

Lynette studied his expression, watching for any sign of discomfort. “I would never do anything behind your back, Charles... but if you found a girl we were both attracted to, I’d be very open to the idea.”

“You really want to go to bed with another woman?” he asked, fascinated by the erotic images that conjured up.

Gazing into his eyes, her voice lowered into a throaty growl, “If seeing us together would turn you on, then definitely... but I’d prefer to see you with her...”

He gaped at her in shock. “You’re joking?”

She shook her head and gently stroked his shaft through his trousers. “This isn’t a joking matter.”

Charles groaned at her seductive caress. “God... you’re incredible!”

“Would you like me to take care of that for you?” Lynette asked breathily. “I’ve been craving your taste ever since I woke up...”

He nodded, too worked up to reply in any coherent fashion.

Lynette deftly unzipped his trousers and engulfed his shaft in her hot mouth, letting out a sultry moan as she deep-throated everything he had. It was a fast, efficient blowjob, with both of them desperately seeking his release. When Charles began to spurt down her throat, Lynette hummed with delight, gently massaging his balls as she sucked them dry.

“That was delicious, my love,” she purred, after releasing his softening shaft from her flushed lips. “Thank you so much.”

“Jesus...” he blurted out, staring at her with wild eyes. “I think I’m the enthralled one around here!”

She gave his wilting cock a tender kiss, then fastened up his trousers. “Now, is there anything else you’d like to ask me? I want the future father of my children to know in his heart that I’ll never betray him.”

Charles shook his head, then smiled as he removed her Fleet Admiral’s hat so he could stroke her hair. “Consider me very reassured.”

Lynette let out a sigh of relief, then gave him a lovely smile. “I’m so glad we talked.”

“Me too,” he agreed. After a moment’s pause, Charles continued, “I can tell there’s something else... something you don’t think I’ll want to know. If it happened before we got together, I don’t really care what it is. I trust you, Lynette... and if you want to be with me, I’d be a fool to question my incredible good fortune.”

“Thank you,” she said gratefully, for a whole host of reasons.

Charles smiled and offered her his hand. “Sit up here with me.”

Lynette rose to her feet and sat sideways across his lap, then nuzzled into him and whispered, “Would you stroke my tummy? That always feels so good when I’ve swallowed your cum.”

“Of course,” he agreed, doing as she asked and drawing a sigh of contentment from the happy brunette. They sat there quietly for a few minutes, then he continued, “I’m supposed to be meeting Lina for lunch today to tell her all about the engagement. We better come up with a convincing story.”

“You could just tell her the truth?” Lynette suggested, gently kissing his throat.

Charles blinked in surprise, then leaned back so he could look at his fiancé. “Why on Terra would I do that?”

Her lips curled into a flirtatious smile. “Well, it depends on two things. First, do you think she’s trustworthy? And second, would you like to fuck a hot redhead?”

“What?!”

She giggled at his shocked reaction, then pulled back to give him a sly grin. “Come on, Charles. Lina’s been flirting like mad... you must have realised how much she wants you? If she does join us for a threesome, she’ll find it hard to miss what I really look like when I’m eating your cum from her pussy...”

Before he could answer, the comms interface let out an insistent chime. They both recognised it as an alert for a high-priority message.

“Hold that thought...” Lynette teased him, leaning over to accept the incoming call.

***

John woke up early, but this time he remembered what had happened to Faye before he started looking for her. He let out a sad sigh, resigning himself to putting his faith in Irillith to complete the long, laborious process of rebuilding the lovely AI girl. Rolling onto his side, he spooned behind Helene, wrapping her up in his arms and enjoying the soft warmth of her nubile body.

“Mmm, that feels wonderful,” she murmured, melting in his embrace.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he apologised, leaning over to kiss her teal-hued shoulder. He brushed aside her waves of light green hair, then planted more kisses on her neck, focusing his attention on the three sets of gills.

Helene trembled in his arms and moaned with arousal. “Oh... I never knew they were so sensitive!”

“The Abandoned males’ loss is my gain,” he said with a smile, continuing to lavish her with attention.

“John?” she murmured, sensuously rolling her hips so her rounded bottom massaged his thickening shaft. “There’s one thing we haven’t done together yet...”

“Eager to earn your Lioness ring?” he asked playfully, his smile broadening.

She paused and looked at him over her shoulder. “I want to be with you forever... and I know that an engagement ring tells everyone that you are my soulmate.” Helene gave him a tender kiss, then added, “But I really want to do this for you. You’ll be the only person I’ve had back there... it was something I never did with Firon.”

“I’d be honoured, honey,” he said, touched by her sincerity.

Helene turned around so that she was lying on her back and looking up at him, nothing but love in those baby blue eyes. “Would you mind if Alyssa joins us? She offered to help me prepare myself for you... and I promised that I’d let her watch.”

He chuckled and nodded. “It’s fine by me, just as long as you’re comfortable with her being here. I know Alyssa will love seeing us together.”

“Should I ask her to join us now?” she asked, stroking his chest.

“Let me speak to her,” he said, punctuating his reply with a gentle kiss.

*Alyssa?* he asked in a hushed voice, not wanting to wake her up too abruptly.

*I’m already awake,* she replied, sounding tense. *I’m afraid Helene will have to wait... I’ve got some terrible news.*

*What’s wrong?* he asked in alarm.

*Lynette just contacted me. The Brimorian Enclave launched a surprise attack against the Terran Federation last night.* She paused for a second, then added, *Admiral Morgan is dead... the Brimorians slaughtered his entire fleet.*

“Fuck!” John cursed, sitting bolt upright.

Helene looked up at him in surprise. “John... what’s the matter?”

“I’m sorry, honey,” he said, with real regret. “I’d love to spend the morning in bed with you, but I just found out that the Brimorians attacked the Terrans last night. I need to discuss what we’re going to do with the girls.”

She sat up too and gave him a look of understanding. “There’s no need to apologise. I just wanted to let you know that I’m ready... you can claim me completely whenever you desire.”

John groaned as he got out of bed. “Bloody Brimorians... they’re really determined to piss me off.”

Helene slipped out of the covers and stood beside him. She gently massaged his temple and asked quietly, “Would you like me to soothe your mind?”

He inhaled deeply, then shook his head. “I’ll be alright. Being angry at the Brimorians is a refreshing change from everything else I’ve been dealing with recently.”

They dressed quickly, then left Helene’s quarters and walked along the corridor to the Officers’ Lounge. The couple were the first to arrive, but not by much, with the rest of the girls making an appearance less than a minute later. Gathering at the sofas, they sat down in silence, looking to John to start the meeting.

“I take it Alyssa told everyone what happened?” he asked, glancing around at the girls.

Dana yawned and nodded. “The Brimorians sneak attacked the Terrans last night. Admiral Morgan and his fleet were wiped out with only one survivor.”

John raised an eyebrow and glanced at Alyssa. “Only one person survived?”

“Lynette’s been giving me updates as she gets more information,” the blonde replied, her expression grim. “The Brimorians gunned down the escape pods and finished off everyone in the wrecks. They were determined to kill everybody, but they missed a Claymore pilot... his gunship was shot to hell and he’s in a coma.”

“They’ll get what’s coming to them,” John muttered, his eyes going cold and hard.

“High Command can’t reach Admiral Kester either; his fleet was travelling along the border to rendezvous at the Callopean Shoals,” Alyssa explained, a flicker of anxiety crossing her face. “I really liked him, John. He’s one of the few members of the Admiralty who wasn’t a complete asshole.”

“Have the Brimorians conquered any systems?” he asked, wondering at the scale of the unfolding disaster.

She shook her head. “The Enclave fleets that wiped out Morgan’s border force are holding position in the Callopean Shoals. There’s not been any reports of attacks against Federation systems yet.”

Calara frowned and looked at John in confusion. “That doesn’t make any sense. Now that the Brimorians have declared war, they should be pressing the advantage of surprise. They must know how badly mauled the Federation fleets are after the Battle of Terra... If it was me, I’d send every ship I could muster to Olympus Shipyard to finish off what the Kintark started.”

“What if they just wished to reclaim the Callopean Shoals?” Helene suggested quietly. “Faye told me all about the Terran annexation of those systems and the wars fought over the atoll worlds. Perhaps the Brimorians only wish to take back what was originally theirs?”

John glanced at Calara and shrugged. “I don’t know the Brimorians well enough to figure out their motives. Could this just be a limited invasion?”

The brunette considered it for a long moment. “With the Brimorians anything’s possible. However, annihilating the border fleet and slaughtering the survivors is an act of extreme provocation. They must know that the Terran Federation will be baying for blood now... so it seems odd that the Brimorians aren’t trying to inflict maximum damage while they have the opportunity.”

“They’re obviously up to something,” he agreed, rubbing his chin. “But what it is, I’ve got no idea.”

“A ship from Dacres’ fleet is bringing the survivor back to Olympus,” Alyssa interjected. “Hopefully we can find out exactly what happened when he wakes up.”

“How soon can we get back to the Brimorian border?” John asked Dana.

She gave him a helpless shrug. “Ten days if we really haul ass? But we’re in no shape to fight, John. We can get the Invictus spaceworthy in a week, but my estimates didn’t include checking all the guns for impact damage from the crash. The plan was to limp back to Genthalas and put the Invictus into drydock, then I was going to scrap every weapon we’ve got and upgrade all the existing gun batteries.”

“So basically, if the Brimorians do launch a full invasion, the Federation is screwed?” John muttered, shaking his head. “There’s no way we can get back there to save them in time?”

“We could get back with the Progenitor shuttle,” the redhead suggested. “It’s got some guns, but nowhere near enough firepower to take out an entire fleet, let alone an invasion armada.”

“What about a tactical strike on Brimor?” Sakura suggested. “We could infiltrate using the shuttle and assassinate the Deep Pool.”

John considered that for a moment, then shook his head. “I’m not going to split up the team and leave anyone here. If we all go, that means abandoning the Invictus, so we’d have to come all the way back to Arcadia again to repair it. I don’t think we can afford to waste that much time, not with the imminent threat of a Progenitor invasion looming.”

Calara nodded. “I’m in full agreement. I think we need to repair the Invictus as quickly as possible, return to Maliri Space, then investigate the Mists of Loralar for Mael’nerak’s homeworld. If we can find and activate a hyper-warp gate, we can capture Larn’kelnar’s entire fleet without firing so much as a shot.”

*John... have you forgotten that you have every fleet in the Maliri Protectorate at your disposal?* Edraele reminded him. *The situation might not be as bleak as you imagine.*

He sat back on the sofa as he mulled over using the Maliri to intervene. *I’m not sure that’s wise, Edraele. I’m trying to preserve your people for the fight against the Progenitors and sending your fleets against a powerful empire like the Enclave is very different to engaging an enemy crippled by infighting like the Kirrix; there’s bound to be casualties.*

*Maliri vessels greatly outclass those of the Brimorians, especially our ships in the recently refitted fleets,* Edraele replied. *Our forces should have such a technological advantage that we can easily defeat them unless massively outnumbered.*

“But committing the Maliri to a major war with the Enclave would greatly hinder our efforts to recover Larn’kelnar’s forces,” Calara interjected, looking concerned. “We need the Maliri fleet crews on standby to commandeer all his thrall vessels.”

John glanced at her in surprise, startled that she’d overheard his telepathic conversation.

Alyssa placed her hand on his. “I’m keeping them all informed.”

He nodded to her gratefully, then said to his Maliri matriarch, *Edraele, can you give me a quick status update for the Maliri fleets please?*

*Certainly. House Valaden’s primary war fleets are committed to protecting our allies,* she replied, launching into an overview. *Lilyana’s fleet has been upgraded with new technology and is liberating Trankaran worlds from the Kirrix. Two Trankaran fleets have now joined her on the front lines and are focusing on eliminating Kirrix ground forces, while Lilyana’s fleet provides space supremacy. My second fleet has been deployed to Ashana, where half the refitted ships are in the process of being upgraded to Crystal Alyssium hulls.*

*I don’t want to recall either of those fleets,* he said, shaking his head. *The Trankarans need as much assistance as we can give them and I don’t want to leave the Ashanath exposed, especially when they’re upgrading Maliri ships. What active fleet assets have we got in Maliri Space?*

*House Loraleth has two fleets that have been fully refitted with new engines, retro-thrusters, shields, heatsinks, and sensors,* she replied, going through the list of upgrades. *Kali’s first fleet is currently patrolling our border with the Kirrix. I was going to suggest dispatching them to Arcadia to assist with the Invictus repairs, but going by Dana’s estimates, you should be finishing by the time they would arrive.*

*No... definitely don’t send them here,* John said firmly. *If my father is correct and Xar’aziuth does start sending Progenitors to investigate what happened to Larn’kelnar, the last thing I want is for them to ambush a Maliri fleet. What about Kali’s second fleet? What are they up to?*

*They are now stationed on our border with the Brimorian Enclave,* Edraele replied. *The fleet arrived yesterday and has begun patrols. They’d be ideally placed to intervene and harass Enclave forces if they do invade Federation territory.*

“It would take about 12 hours for them to intercept the Brimorians in the Callopean Shoals,” Calara said, looking thoughtful. “Perhaps even a limited engagement might dissuade the Enclave from a large-scale invasion?”

“It might... but how is Terran High Command going to react if we send another Maliri warfleet into Federation territory?” he asked the Latina, his brow furrowing with concern. “Especially, without us there to ease any tensions.”

“Would High Command really object to the Maliri saving them from an invasion?” Tashana asked, with a puzzled look of bemusement.

“Probably not in the short term, but it might do lasting damage to Lynette’s authority as Fleet Admiral,” John said, trying to anticipate the kind of objections that might arise. “There’s no formal alliance signed between the Maliri Protectorate and the Federation, so an alien warfleet roaming around Terran Space wouldn’t go down well.”

*I could make diplomatic overtures to High Command suggesting an alliance?* Edraele quickly suggested. *Even the knowledge that the Maliri and the Federation are on friendlier terms might be an effective deterrent to the Brimorians.*

He nodded in agreement. “That’s a great idea; although you might run into difficulties with the Admiralty requesting reciprocal Open Borders.”

*Perhaps we could include a clause granting temporary admittance should an ally be called upon for military assistance?* Edraele suggested. *That would keep Terran forces out of Maliri Space for the foreseeable future, but would allow us undisputed entrance to Federation Space if Lynette requests help.*

“Sounds good,” he replied, pleased to have found a temporary means of assisting the Federation. “We need to stall the Brimorians for as long as possible to give us a chance to refit the Invictus and an alliance with the Maliri would do that without putting your fleets at risk.”

*I shall do so immediately,* Edraele replied, sounding happy to have been of assistance.

“I informed Lynette, she’ll raise the possibility of an alliance with High Command,” Alyssa informed him. “She’s also asking for strategic advice. What’s her best approach for dealing with the Brimorian threat if they do still invade?”

“The Terran forces are in no state to fight a hostile empire at the moment,” Calara replied, her expression bleak. “It’s imperative that Lynette preserve the Terran fleets until they’ve all been through the refit program. High Command needs to avoid any direct confrontation with the Brimorians and should basically reinforce Olympus while they wait for us to deal with them.”

“How soon could we hit the Brimorians?” John asked, turning his attention back to Dana.

“A week to fix the Invictus and a week to travel to Genthalas,” the redhead said, mentally rechecking her estimates. “Then we’ll need to spend a couple of weeks in drydock upgrading everything with Progenitor tech. When we’ve installed a Wormhole Generator, we can jump right into Brimorian Space and start kicking ass, but I reckon we’ll need at least a month to get ready.”

“A month...” John echoed, a troubled frown on his face.

“That’s assuming I can actually create a viable alternative to the black metal,” Dana reminded him. “If I can’t, there’s no guarantee that I can modify the schematics to work with Crystal Alyssium.”

Calara cleared her throat to get his attention. “And I can’t overstate how important it is that we acquire Larn’kelnar’s thrall fleets. We need those ships, John. We have to treat that as a higher priority than unleashing retribution on the Brimorians, even if it puts the Terran Federation at risk.”

John let out his breath and slumped back on the sofa. “I don’t like it, but you’re right... we have to keep focused on preparing for a Progenitor invasion.” He glanced at Alyssa, the look in his eyes one of frustration and regret.

She nodded her understanding. “I’ll tell Lynette...”

***

Light shone down through the high-set windows, the prisms illuminating the motes of dust that were thick in the air. The Gladiatora smoothed her hands over the supple black leather covering her athletic body, tightening the straps until she felt the bite in her flesh. Satisfied that her armour was secure, she rose from the stone plinth and strolled over to the wall of gleaming weapons.

Amber eyes flicked from one weapon to the other, evaluating and discarding them in turn. The sweeping Lynstator spear? No, too stilted and impersonal. The Vensys sword, with its long curved blade? Flashy, but so overused. A Reykas mace? Bloody and vicious, but too crude and clumsy. Her gaze fell on the wicked set of Xilyn knives, their serrated edges razor-sharp. With a smirk, she reached for the pair, then spun and flipped them in the air before catching them in a dazzling display of dexterity. She sheathed the weapons then strapped them to her waist, the hilts in easy reach of her slender hands.

Striding out of the prepatorium, the Gladiatora padded silently along the ancient hall, its walls adorned by elaborate murals depicting brutal combat. The work of skilled artisans millennia ago, the

thirty-feet-tall engravings never failed to create a feeling of awe in any who viewed them. The leather-clad woman strolled past the murals without giving them so much as a second glance, familiarity having bred nothing but contempt.

She stood by a tall gateway and waited for it to open, crinkling her nose at the musty smell of this ancient place. There was something to be said for a bit of dramatic flair, but the Dralzash Colosseum was in desperate need of a good cleaning. The gates groaned in protest, focusing her distracted thoughts, then the stone slabs creaked open, admitting her to the arena. A heat haze rose from the floor and the dazzling morning sunshine was blindingly bright after the gloom of the tunnels. Cheers greeted the Gladiatora’s appearance and she sauntered with flashy arrogance towards the centre of the oval pit, saluting the applauding crowd.

Her adversary entered with far more caution, weight balanced carefully on booted feet as she prowled closer, narrowed eyes alert and suspicious. She rotated a double-bladed glaive in slow circles, building momentum in readiness to strike. When the Gladiatora made no aggressive moves towards her, she turned to face the Imperial throne, saluting the figure hidden in shadows.

“How would you like me to dispose of your corpse, Phedrina?” the Gladiatora drawled, raising an eyebrow at her adversary. “Perhaps I could have you fed to the Ehedne swine? Then you can spend the rest of your days as pungent piles of shit.”

“You’re tired and slow, you wizened old crone!” Phedrina snarled, her voice dripping with contempt. “You’ve only survived this long by choosing to fight a bunch of cripples and weaklings. I’ve spent the last forty years training for this... you won’t see another dawn!”

The Gladiatora didn’t have the heart to tell her adversary how wrong she was. Instead she yawned, then politely covered her mouth. “I do apologise... but you were being so dreadfully dull.”

Phedrina spat on the floor, then rotated her glaive even faster.

“BEGIN...” a booming voice ordered, the deep baritone sending a thrill up the duellists’ spines.

The Gladiatora skipped to one side, narrowly avoiding the ferocious lunge of Phedrina’s glaive. She added an extra bounce to her step, making it look like she was traipsing through a sunlit meadow as she circled her opponent. The crowd’s raucous laughter echoed around the arena, making the challenger bristle with anger.

“It’s such a beautiful day, Phedrina,” the Gladiatora remarked, glancing up at the blazing yellow sun. “Take a moment to savour it...”

“Because it’ll be my last?” the glaive-wielder snorted. “Stand and fight you prancing fairy!”

“Oh... if you insist,” she replied, spinning around and drawing both daggers, brandishing the glinting blades so they caught the light.

Phedrina adjusted her footing, then slashed from left to right with a blow that would have disembowelled a bull Vindos. Unfortunately, her nimble opponent bent backwards, the sweeping blade at the end of the polearm missing her leather-clad stomach by inches. That was just the first of a trio of deadly strikes, as the glaive swept up then scythed down, hissing through the air where the Gladiatora had stood only seconds before. Phedrina adjusted her weight, then lunged forward, aiming to plunge the pointed tip into her enemy’s heart.

The Gladiatora stepped aside to dodge the thrust, then moving as fast as a striking snake, her knife flicked out at the gauntleted hand holding the pole.

Phedrina hissed with pain and stumbled backwards, a severed finger dropping to the arena floor in spurts of blood. “Ahh! You lucky bitch!”

“Oh look, you dropped something!” the reigning champion exclaimed, dropping low and scooping up the dismembered digit with the blade of her dagger. She offered the bloody finger with a broad smile. “How clumsy of you.”

With a roar of defiance, Phedrina hacked down with her glaive, trying to cleave her slippery opponent in half from head to toe. The Gladiatora darted forwards, her twin daggers bracing the glaive’s shaft and slicing down with a whistling shriek. That was followed a second later by an agonised scream as Phedrina lost the remaining digits on her left hand. Spinning around, the Gladiatora lashed out at her opponent as she cartwheeled past, leaving behind a dagger buried to the hilt in Phedrina’s stomach.

Turning to face the throne, the Gladiatora ignored the anguished cries from her wounded adversary. She gave their master a quizzical look, curious to see if he was satisfied. She could sense his amusement, having been entertained by her impressive display of weapon mastery.

“FINISH HER...”

Phedrina stumbled backwards, trying to raise her glaive in a desperate defence. She dropped the upper end of the pole on her forearm, wincing in agony as blood continued to pour from the ragged stumps where her fingers used to be.

Whistling a jaunty tune, the Gladiatora pranced closer, taunting her severely wounded opponent with a mocking grin. “You really spent forty years training for this? Are you sure you didn’t train to be a concubine? Because you look thoroughly fucked...”

“I’ll kill you!” Phedrina roared, bracing the glaive in the crook of her arm and charging forward.

The Gladiatora pirouetted to the side, then slammed her second dagger into her opponent’s stomach. Phedrina groaned, blood frothing at her mouth as she stumbled to a halt.

Sauntering closer, the champion stood beside the challenger as she dropped the glaive from her trembling grasp. “He chooses who I fight... I have no say in it,” she whispered softly. “Each and every one thought they had what it took to defeat me... they were the very best the Empire could offer.”

“Please... have mercy,” Phedrina whimpered, wobbling unsteadily on her feet.

Grasping the twin hilts, the Gladiatora ripped them to the side, brutally disembowelling her opponent. The crowd roared its approval, the sight of gore splattering the arena floor slating their thirst for blood.

Turning to face the throne, the victor tossed her daggers aside and sauntered towards her master, following a path she’d followed countless times before. A set of steps clicked out of the arena wall, but these were a new addition to the Dralzash Colosseum, constructed from a glistening black metal. She sashayed up the steps, making eye contact with her master as she approached, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. When she stood before his throne, she gazed in rapture at his exquisitely handsome face... entranced by this beautiful paragon of masculinity.

He reached out to grasp her leather jacket and effortlessly ripped it from her body, leaving her chest nude before him. Her pert breasts heaved with excitement, the flawless scarlet flesh darkening as she flushed with arousal.

“Claim your prize, Valeria,” he said, looking deep into her eyes.

She fumbled at his trousers with trembling fingers, the adrenalin coursing through her veins making her giddy with excitement. A hushed silence fell on the crowd as she sank to her knees before her lord, soft lips lovingly worshipping the head of his cock before engulfing his glorious heat. All she could think of was that thick shaft stretching her throat as she nestled in his groin, her nose brushing against his stomach. He ran his fingers through her coal-black hair, then held her in place as he began to thrust, taking his pleasure from her gorgeous body.

Valeria whimpered in ecstasy, her hands gently caressing her master’s quad. That her debasement was being broadcast to millions throughout the empire was an added thrill, throwing her triumph in the face of all those thralls. She felt him throb in her throat, then thick spurts of cum splashed in her stomach, quickly filling her taut tummy. Her hands caressed her belly as it started to swell, cradling the rounded curves as he pumped her full of an impressive load. She sank back in a daze when he was done, a beatific smile on her face as she relished the reward for her latest victory.

“The Wormhole-Generator is charged and the dreadnought prepared for our voyage,” her master said, tucking himself in and rising from his throne, leaving her on her knees as he walked away. “We leave immediately.”

“Yes, my Lord,” she murmured obediently, savouring the weight of his essence in her rounded belly as she stood and followed him from the arena.

***

John pushed his chair back from the dining table, then smiled at Neysa as he offered her a hand. She gladly accepted, then rose gracefully from where she’d knelt before him, her stomach now swollen with his morning load.

“That was amazing. Thank you, honey,” he said, gently stroking her impressive curves.

“I love giving you pleasure... John,” she said hesitantly, with a self-conscious smile.

He looked at her in surprise, then his face lit up in delight. “Neysa! That’s the first time you’ve called me by my name!”

“Is that okay, Master?” she asked, suddenly looking nervous.

“Of course,” he replied, his voice soothing as he leaned in to give her a reassuring kiss. “I’m very proud of you.”

The blissfully happy catgirl sighed with contentment as he pulled her into a hug.

“I can’t wait until it’s my turn!” Betrixa gushed, her sapphire eyes sparkling with anticipation.

“We’ll get together soon. I really want to focus on you and your sisters for the next week or two,” John said, glancing around at the joyful Nymphs. “Jade’s also going to teach you as much as she can about shape-shifting.”

As the catgirls celebrated, their verdant matriarch returned from the kitchen, having deposited her stack of dirty plates in the washer. “If it’s alright with the Grand Engineering Overlord, I thought I’d also train my sisters to help as her assistants.”

Dana smiled at the jubilant Nymphs. “That’s fine by me. If they’re anywhere near as strong and dexterous as you, they’ll be perfect for the job.”

Alyssa hugged Neysa from behind and gently caressed her tummy. “Do we want to teach these sexy girls how to fly the Raptor too?”

John looked into Neysa’s hazel eyes. “It’s a very important job and we really need your help. Would you like to learn?”

“Oh, yes please!” she gushed, swooning in his arms.

He held her close then looked at the rest of the Nymphs and was relieved to see that each of them was equally thrilled at the prospect.

Jade smiled as she slipped her arms around Marika and Leylira. “You really are following in my footsteps.”

John locked eyes with Alyssa over Neysa’s shoulder. *Replacements for the combat roles Faye covered?*

She nodded imperceptibly. *She did so much, it’s going to be a real struggle without her. We desperately need someone to fly the Raptor and the Invictus, otherwise Jade or I will be stuck behind a flightstick. I think we’ve both proven how useful we can be in the field.*

*I agree. You’re both far too powerful to be sitting on the sidelines. With the Nymphs’ heightened reflexes they’ll make excellent pilots and it might be sensible to also train them as gun crews for the Invictus, to take some of the pressure off Calara.*

Alyssa looked pleased and stood on tiptoe so that she could kiss him over the catgirl’s shoulder. *I thought you might be stubborn about exposing the Nymphs to combat.*

John stroked Neysa’s back and smiled as she began to purr. *I don’t want them Dogfighting in the Raptor if we can help it, but they should be safe enough ferrying us to combat drops. I’m also going to make them as strong and resilient as I can over the next few weeks; Jade’s already proven just how tough Nymphs can be with the right encouragement.*

Jade walked over to join them and ran her hand over his shoulder, caressing him affectionately. *Thank you so much for this, Master. My sisters are thrilled... just as I was when I realised I could really be of use to you.*

*They’re part of the family now, Jade,* he said, pulling her into the three-way hug. *It was a mistake to keep your sisters separate before. Giving them a valuable role on the ship will help them build up some confidence and sense of self-worth; I want them to feel respected as well as loved.*

Her emerald eyes gazed at him in adoration as she traced his jawline with a finger. *They’re so lucky to have you as their master, John. I hope one day in the future, they can truly appreciate how fortunate they are.*

*That’s certainly how I feel to have met all of you,* he said, giving her a kiss.

Rachel was waiting patiently to the side and watching John interacting with Alyssa and Jade. “Are the three of you still having a private conversation?” she asked politely. “If not, I’d like to go over the list of tasks needed to repair the Invictus... if that’s alright with you?”

John released Neysa and nodded to the brunette. “Sorry about that, we were just discussing our training plans.”

“Matriarch business... I understand,” Rachel said, giving him a reassuring smile.

The twins and Sakura returned from the kitchen, having cleared up the last of the plates, cutlery and glasses from breakfast.

John looked around and saw that he already had all the girls’ attention. “Ladies, let’s head up to the Briefing Room. Rachel wants to review her task list and there’s also a few things I wanted to discuss with you before we start work today.”

Everyone started to make their way out of the Officers’ Lounge, and after giving Neysa a parting kiss, John fell into step beside Helene. “I’m sorry we were interrupted earlier. I promise I’ll make it up to you this evening.”

“That’s quite alright,” she replied, giving him a loving smile as she slipped her hand into his. “I understand how important it is for you to help the Nymphs become more like Jade. She’s such a lovely person and her sisters deserve the chance to truly be free.”

John stopped, bringing the aquatic girl to a halt too. “Honey, that’s not the reason I asked if you minded waiting. I don’t want to rush the first time we get together that way... I want to savour the experience and make it as special for you as possible.”

Helene let out a happy sigh as she embraced him. “I love you so much.”

He smiled as he held her close. “I love you too.”

Calara and Alyssa were waiting for them by the door, both girls watching John closely.

*He seems so much happier!* the Latina marvelled, idly stroking her girlfriend’s arm. *I thought John was going to be depressed for weeks after everything that happened with his parents and Faye.*

*Dana’s talk last night really helped put things in perspective,* Alyssa said softly. *She’s amazing at connecting with him over things like that... and of course she’s been heavily coached by Rachel.* Her eyes flicked to the Teal-hued beauty in his arms. *And Helene’s helping out too.*

*What?* Calara asked in surprise.

*Helene’s being subtle, but she’s stabilising his emotions to help him deal with his grief for Faye and all the hurt from being rejected by his parents,* Alyssa explained, watching John with concern.

The brunette moved to deliberately block her girlfriend’s view. *Does he know she’s doing that?*

*John let her help him last night,* Alyssa replied evasively. *He just didn’t kick her out of his mind this morning...*

*Alyssa...* Calara said, her eyes narrowing.

The blonde refused to back down, her steely cerulean gaze meeting the Latina’s. *He was crushed yesterday... I’ve never seen John so heartbroken. He’s too stubborn to ask for help on his own,

because he thinks he’s got to be all stoic in front of us girls, but I refuse to let a couple of asshole Progenitors push him into depression. I’m going to do anything and everything I can to help him deal with all the shit that just got dumped on him.*

*Don’t you think he should be given a choice?* Calara asked gently.

*All Helene’s doing is muting some of the grief and self-doubt,* Alyssa said, refusing to back down. *If John really wanted her out of his mind, he could instantly block her.*

Calara stared at her girlfriend for a long moment, then said loudly, “John! Alyssa wants to tell you something!”

The blonde gaped at her in shock. “Why would you do that?!”

“Talk to him... and tell him the truth,” the brunette whispered.

John strolled over to join them, his arm around Helene. “Hey. What’s up?”

Alyssa turned to face him, but struggled to meet his curious gaze. “I err... just wanted to say...”

He smiled and reached out to lift her chin. “It’s not like you to be indecisive, beautiful. What’s on your mind?”

She swallowed, then darted an apprehensive glance at Helene, before looking at John again. “I... asked Helene to help you.”

John gave the aquatic girl an affectionate squeeze. “I know. She was amazing last night; so gentle and loving... it felt like I had this huge weight lifted off my shoulders. I really needed that, if only for a couple of hours... I felt so much better this morning.”

“She’s still helping...” Alyssa admitted, looking down guiltily.

“Wait... What?!”

“You didn’t block Helene from your mind this morning, so I asked her to keep helping you deal with all the grief over Faye... and everything that happened with your mom and dad.”

John went quiet and looked away into the distance.

Helene shared an anxious glance with Alyssa, then said quietly, “Please don’t be angry... we just wanted to make things a bit easier for you.”

He let out a heavy sigh, then shook his head. “No, honey, I’m not angry... just disappointed that I wasn’t coping as well as I thought I was.”

“Do you want me to stop?” she asked, looking at him with sympathy.

John slowly shook his head. “I’ll have to deal with everything eventually... but I can’t afford to fall apart right now.”

Alyssa looked at him in astonishment. “You’ll actually let us help you?!”

“You don’t have to sound quite so surprised,” he said with a self-deprecating laugh. “I know I can be stubborn about that sometimes, but I really do appreciate you looking after me. Besides, I promised Dana that if I was feeling down, I’d ask one of you for some TLC... I guess I just forgot to tell Helene to stop.”

Alyssa flung her arms around him in a fierce hug. “It was awful seeing you so devastated yesterday... I felt so helpless.”

He kissed her forehead and stroked her back. “Thanks for telling me the truth.”

She blushed and sheepishly admitted, “Calara basically forced me into it. I was worried you’d be furious and refuse to let us help anymore.” “I used psychic powers to help heal Tashana’s mind,” he said, looking thoughtful. “I’d be a bit of a hypocrite to get annoyed at you for trying to do the same thing for me.”

Helene stroked his arm and said, “You’re stronger than you think. I’m not doing much, just smoothing out some of the pain. Your love for Faye was a beautiful thing... I’m so sorry she was taken from you.”

He swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat and put his arm around Helene. “It still feels like I’m being punched in the gut every time I think about her.”

“I know,” she whispered, giving him a gentle kiss. “I’ll try to help you deal with the grief... at least until we leave Arcadia.”

John gave her a mournful smile. “Thank you... I really need it.”

They embraced for a long moment, before finally separating.

“We better get going... the girls will be wondering where we are,” John said with a self-conscious smile.

Alyssa stroked his cheek with her thumb. “They know. You don’t have to worry about them.”

He nodded and they left the room, stepping into the grav-tube to ascend to the Command Deck. It was still painful to walk out onto the Bridge and not be greeted by Faye’s cheerful grin, but he no longer felt the crushing despair he’d experienced yesterday. John glanced at Helene to give her an

appreciative smile and she gently squeezed his hand in return. They followed the ramp down to the Briefing Room, then walked inside to take their places around the long meeting table.

John took his seat at the head of the table and looked around at the thirteen beautiful women who were all waiting for him to speak. “I’ll hand over to Rachel in a moment to start going through all the work needed to repair the Invictus. First, I just wanted to say that we need to fix the sleeping arrangements. I don’t like us all sleeping apart, so I suggest we make the Observatory our new bedroom until we return to Genthalas. Does anyone have any objections... or suggestions?”

“That’s a brilliant idea,” Tashana said with a look of relief. “I hated being apart from you last night!”

There were lots of nods around the table... from everyone in fact.

“We can install a new en suite bathroom to make it more like the old bedroom,” Dana said, tapping a finger on her chin. “Plus, if you or Alyssa knock out some holes in the Lagoon walls, we can get quick access to the express grav-tubes down to the Combat Bridge.”

“Good thinking,” John agreed, nodding his approval. “Let’s get that done today, so it’s ready for tonight.”

“No problem,” the redhead said with a grin.

“The second thing I wanted to discuss was rescuing the missing bots. Have we got a plan for retrieving them?”

“We can configure the Progenitor shuttle’s sensors to search for Crystal Alyssium,” Dana replied, with a look of satisfaction. “It’ll be a bit like looking for three needles in a haystack... with a massive magnet!”

John laughed and looked relieved. “It’ll be great to get them back. I’m sure the AI collective will be-”

A massive boom made the Invictus tremble beneath their feet and John’s voice trailed off, the crew all staring at each other in surprise.

“What the fuck was that?!” Dana blurted out, her eyes wide.

“I saw a purple flash, Master!” Leylira exclaimed, pointing at the broad window. “It was in that direction and lasted for a couple of seconds before it disappeared!”

Alyssa turned to look at John in alarm. “That’s where Rahn’hagon’s ship crashed!”

“A purple beam maybe? Perhaps a Quantum Disintegrator?” Calara suggested, rising from her chair and rushing over to the window.

There was a sudden burst of more lights on the horizon, consisting of a dozen bright flashes followed by more thunderous retorts.

“I think those were impacts from a Quantum Flux Cannon barrage!” Dana blurted out, staring intently into the distance.

Sakura moved to stand by John and tucked her arm around his. “You were right...” she said in a hushed voice. “It’s another Progenitor.”

***