Nick huffed as he ran, glad that it was night, and glad that he had kept up his swimming exercise. I should have practiced in this gear more, he berated himself. But three cheers for my paranoia after getting stabbed.

The suit he wore was invisible to many kinds of scanner, or so Petra had claimed. He had started out by asking Petra to make him a bulletproof vest, but that had plan gotten more and more elaborate as he looked at all the exotic designs available. Just in case Olk!ana or someone like him got adventurous, he wanted to be ready.

Petra was much less confident that the gun she had made for him would hurt the enemy. It depended on what armor the invaders had. For some reason, Petra had a specific list of likely options. Much like knowing the exact dimensions of the railgun slug, Petra seemed to have some knowledge of particular races and how they armed themselves.

She's either encountered this ship before, or ones very like it. I wonder if these are the same people who were attacking the alien city when they used Earth as an escape road? I wish I had time to get the whole story.

Nick had told Petra his goals, and Petra would try to do her part. He was glad of the cameras and sensors Petra had available. They gave him a real sense of how the fight was going.

The demonic-looking aliens, hidden now in bulky, black armor, killed the negotiator right off. Moral quandary: eliminated, he thought. He expected the fuakalas to get slaughtered, but held out hope that between Petra's "dungeon traps" and their own unpredictability, they might hurt or at least slow the enemy.

He was amused when Petra trapped fighters in the rooms, but it didn't last of course. Then a bus, of all things, burst out of the garage and managed to run over one of the invaders before the driver was shot and killed.

He was more impressed with Geh!aoa, he thought her name was—he called her Jen-Ann in his head. She had thrown two flash-bangs, though only the first one had worked. There had been no one in position to take advantage of the disorientation, though. I think they don't quite get how those are supposed to be used. And the second one seemed to have no effect, so the enemy had filters or something and could ignore them.

Still, Jen-Ann managed to find her own use. After the first pair of flash-bangs, the enemy wasn't scared of them when she threw two more, and were clustered near the top of the stairs, eager to press forward. But the fourth toss wasn't a flash-bang, it was a grenade, and that had done a lot of damage to the bunched up invaders, especially when a second grenade followed right on its heels.

Six of the blue lights went out on his map. Hot damn! And two had gone out near the workroom. The blinking one Nick presumed was an injured enemy. Nine down! With four waiting outside, that left eleven to capture the base. Unfortunately, Nick suspected that that would be more than enough.

He lost track of Ktheg!lik. Several green lights had disappeared, in ones and twos. The total surviving population of the fuakala race was ticking downward. When the invaders reached Level 5, it started to turn into a slaughter. Lots of motionless green dots, noncombatants hiding in their rooms, were finding their doors busted open. Many of them died without even moving.

Nick told Petra to turn off most of the notifications. He had his own work to do. He picked up the pace as much as he dared; he couldn't arrive winded or he would die in seconds.

The nice thing about wanting something almost impossible, he mused, is that the solution often becomes obvious because there is simply no other way to win.

To rescue the fuakalas from the danger permanently, the entire invading force had to be stopped. That meant taking out the mother ship, the Kalash-Quovo. But it would take ages for Petra to build a weapon capable of shooting down a battleship or whatever it was. Therefore, they had to get up there to kill it.

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There was only one way to get up there: the drop shuttle.

Therefore, someone had to capture the drop shuttle, intact, and without warning the mother ship. So, someone needed to be stealthy. And the only person with a stealth suit ready was...one Nick Tomsun, human of Earth.

Ergo, I have to be the one to do this. Elementary, my dear Watson.

Nick came over the last rise and the drop shuttle came into view. His humor evaporated at the sight. An old fear suddenly reared up.

I hope to God I'm not one of those people who can't kill when it comes time to pull the trigger.

The thing with Olk!ano wasn't the first time in his life that killing someone had been a reasonable option.

There was that time behind the bar with the crazy biker. Nobody would have blamed him. A judge would totally have called it self-defense. But he'd opted for breaking the guy's gun hand instead of his skull. The bastard had gotten away from him, too. If a cop hadn't shot the guy five minutes later, Nick would have been riddled with guilt, wondering how many innocent people the neo-Nazi would kill because Nick was too much of a softie to play for keeps.

He thought that he could do it. But in all the biggest fights in his life, Nick had chosen to de-escalate where he could. Friends told him it was because he was a nice person. Nick worried that it was because he was weak. He was scared that he wouldn't be able to do it if it ever became absolutely necessary.

Petra flashed a note in the corner of his vision: < Printing finished. > Reading it, Nick reached into his pocket holding the alien wonder, and a small metal star fell into his hand. It felt like one of those ninja throwing stars. "What do I do with this?" he whispered.

< Make contact with Kez495Go55 Mark 7 armor to disable. >

"Can you make three more?"

< Too small ingredients. >

"Can you make one more?"

< Yes. >

"Do it."

< Time to print: four minutes. >

Nick squinted, trying to see better. There were two aliens visible outside: one at the entrance to the dungeon, and one on the ramp of the drop shuttle. Both were fully armored, and they were facing each other. He crept closer, trying to come up with a plan.

Four aliens suddenly came into view around the curve of the hill. Those are the guys from the garage. Two died, one pinned in place, and one guarding him, leaves four. They can't get in that way any more so if they want to join the fight, they have to use the top entrance.

Wait.

Oh, shit, now! Do it now! he told himself.

Nick sprinted for the guard on the drop shuttle ramp, praying that his invisibility was good enough for this. The four soldiers reached the guard at the top entrance, and they were all looking towards their destination. They were blocking the view, for a brief moment obstructing the guards' view of each other.

The guard on the ramp must have heard something, because he turned to face him. He was just starting to bring his weapon to bear when Nick sprinted up, slapping the ninja star against the guy's armor and giving him a push. The armor seemed to freeze up, and the guard started to fall over. Nick caught him quickly, and grunted.

Shit! This guy must be over 300 pounds in that armor!

Frantically, Nick dragged the guard up the ramp and out of sight of the dungeon entrance. Luck was with him, apparently. There was no dramatic reaction, and no one else was wandering the ship's passageways. Nick leaned the guy against one wall and tried to breathe quietly. Pain flared in his lower back. Ah, shit, I think I pulled something. Not the time, body!

He looked around, opened his pocket wide and pulled Petra out. This is the stupidest part of the plan, bringing the treasure they're after onto their own ship. I hope to God Petra actually understands what I want her to do.

"Where?" he whispered.

Miracle of miracles, Petra got it from context. His HUD lit up with two different spots over things that looked like electrical outlets or data ports or something. Nick hurried over to the closest one and held Petra against it. I don't know how she plugs into... Nick stared. Petra had dropped half a ninja star on the floor and was printing something new.

We really don't have a lot of time here, Petra! Nick fidgeted, wondering what to do now. He was about to give up and try another port when Petra finished. He reached out and caught a small object. One end clearly went into a jack on the wall. The other was rounded.

Petra printed a dongle! Quickly, he shoved the dongle into the wall jack.

Petra, it's all up to you now.

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