Truth of Slir'lass, Trilla'Ssk-Class Scout Ship

Hunter-Scout Squadron 11, Exalted Crusader Fleet

Periphery of Messier 35, the Shoe Buckle Cluster

3,048 light-years from Earth

Lar'ri could barely contain her excitement as the techs worked to translate the reciprocated signal they received from the captured vessel. It had made no attempt to try to break away yet, though the techs told her the power level readings were steadily increasing.

Using her fingers, she zoomed in on the small holo interface in front of her that was displaying the unknown vessel, the minute movements of her blunted claws making the small vessel rotate as she closely inspected the damage it had suffered.

There were many breaches in the hull, and signs of weapon scorches were clearly visible, the sensor tech already confirming that the residual signatures matched what was found on the wreckage of alien vessels destroyed by the evil Bal'Ri'Kan during their journey through the great voids of death.

She continued to manipulate the hologram, her trained eyes taking notice of the design of the ship and the remaining weapon ports and sensor apparatuses. She admired the graceful lines of the vessel, wondering what the primary purpose of it was, as it was too large to be a hunter-scout but too small to be a dedicated attack ship.

Her pupils dilated as she looked at the scan results of the null space capacitors. They were nearly empty, with only a small amount of argonium remaining to travel less than eighty light cycles, if that. This is why they are not able to break the null space dampener hold; they do not have sufficient reserves, she realized.

She heard the hiss of excitement from one of the techs and looked at him as she closed out the hologram. "Battle-Matron, the signal has been converted to our dialect by the translation matrix; I will play it now."

A moment later, a computerized voice came over the speakers, and she listened intently as the words of the unknown stranger sounded in the command chamber. After the computer translation ended, Lar'ri felt both elation and worry manifesting themselves within her spirit.

The speaker had indicated their willingness to open a dialog, but they were not part of the advanced and powerful fleet within the stellar cluster, if what they were saying was the truth.

They also said they were part of a different fleet nearby, and the vessel was expecting reinforcements, which she believed to be true; otherwise, why would they expose such knowledge and give away the tactical advantage of a potential surprise ambush by not speaking of it?

Her thoughts became frantic as she tried to predict what would happen if she didn't make the proper decision. The rest of the fleet was coming behind them, and though they had an insurmountable advantage being almost 200,000 ships strong, they could not afford to make new enemies, not when they needed every ship they had to fight their evil cousin-kin.

They needed to incorporate with the species in the galactic arm they were heading towards. She found herself speaking before realizing she had already made her decision as she addressed the rest of her crusaders in the chamber, almost as if compelled to do this. This was highly unusual for her, but she could feel within herself that it was the right choice.

"We will be the first one to show that we mean what we say and desire peace. If they flee, we will let them go. If they stay, then we will know they are speaking the truth and wish to establish a dialog with us as well. Release the vessel, and have our hunters withdraw to 2,000 draks to show them that we will not prevent them from fleeing if they wish to do so."

A series of hoots and hisses sounded as her fellow crusaders followed her orders and began to pass them along to the other hunter-scouts. She felt the thrumming of the null space dampeners deep within the ship lessening as it powered down, and she could hear the communication tech working with the translation matrix as the sounds of an unknown language played from the tech's station.

She opened her right earhole to its maximum extent and shaped the protective membrane into a conical form to enhance her hearing sensitivity, suppressing the desire to shrink the size of the earhole as the sharp, monotone language entered it.

It was nothing like the dialect of the Bal'Ri'Sar, and she found herself wondering how their feelings could be expressed without the variety of sounds that conveyed emotional intent among the Bal'Ri'Sar.

The language seemed too simplistic to her; perhaps they did not experience the same emotional range as her people did, or maybe they used visual cues such as scale color changes like they did.

"We are receiving another signal, Battle-Matron!" the tech hissed, his scales turning almost violet with happiness and excitement. Lar'ri flicked out her tongue in anticipation, tasting the growing excitement of the others in the air currents as she indicated with her right upper dominant hand for the signal to be played.

The grating monotone of the new language the captured vessel had sent along with their signal sounded over the speakers, and she chirped to stop the tech from converting it to their language, wanting to see if she could pick up on the emotional intent behind the speech before the words were translated.

Both her ears were now dilated to their maximum size, and she could sense the feminine quality of the voice, as well as the pitch changes. Perhaps she is a Battle-Matron like me; this bodes well for our first tasting of scents if true, Lar'ri mused as she finally gave the signal for the translation to be done after the speakers went silent.

The tech chirped in acknowledgment and initiated the computer program to convert it to their language. This time, the speaker's voice was used instead of the computer's lifeless approximation, and Lar'ri could truly feel the intent of the words as she listened to them.

Thank you for releasing us; we appreciate this gesture of goodwill and confirmation of your desire to establish peaceful relations between our two peoples. I wish to establish a visual connection with you; it is important to humans, my species, to see who we are speaking with.

I am forwarding the video protocols we use to establish a visual interface. On my honor, I promise that there are no malicious programs embedded within it, though I am certain you will wish to confirm that for yourself.

If you find the codecs we use to be compatible, please initiate the handshake protocols if you wish to do so. If not compatible, or if you do not wish to initiate visual contact at this time, I understand, and we will continue to communicate over audio. I await your response, and I thank you again for releasing my vessel.

By the time the speakers went silent, Lar'ri was trembling with barely contained excitement. After all this time, they will finally taste the scent of a still-living species that had gained the wisdom to fly into the firmament and was yet to be eradicated by the evil Bal'Ri'Kan.

Not only did they finally catch up to their evil cousin-kin, but these unknown strangers had declared themselves to be enemies of the Bal'Ri'Kan, which meant that they were also crusaders against evil, just as they and the rest of the Exalted Fleet were.

The matron also spoke of personal honor, a trait held in high esteem among her people and a shared concept between them. Perhaps this will form the foundation of their scent sharing.

"Are our visual protocols compatible, Tech Ir'lassk?"

The tech chirped in acknowledgment without looking at her as he continued to work his station controls without confirming. She forgave the improper conduct considering the circumstances and nervously clacked her blunted claws on the arms of her nesting bench, the air thick with pheromones of anticipation and excitement.

The tech finally looked up and responded to her query, his face scales flushing as he realized his unintentional disrespect only after the fact. "Forgive me, Battle-Matron! I did not mean to—"

"It is already forgotten, Tech Ir'lassk. Are they compatible?"

His face scales, which were turning bright yellow, quickly turned dark blue again as he purred in contentment from the pardon she granted him before answering.

"Yes, Battle-Matron, though they appear to operate on a somewhat different visual spectrum than we do. They see some visible light of the ultraviolet spectrum that we do not, and we see some visible light on the ultraviolet spectrum that they do not, according to the computer analysis of their visual signal coding.

We will be able to see each other visually, but there will be some color discrepancies and visual anomalies until the computers of both ships are able to compensate, if they are able to do so at all. There are no signs of malicious code or programs that our computer can detect, though that doesn't mean there are none, Battle-Matron."

She clearly understood the implied warning of the tech, but she had a good feeling about the way things were going, and she instinctively felt as if they could trust these crusaders based on their actions and words so far.

They were still holding their position despite being released, and they initiated signal reciprocity, which meant they desired to make common cause with the Exalted Crusade in her estimation.

"I will heed your warning, Tech Ir'lassk, and it will be noted in my recollections to absolve you of blame if anything happens. The fault will lie with me alone. Establish the visual link. Is the translation matrix able to convert my words into their language?"

The tech hooted, confirming the translation matrix was properly reconfigured before bowing slightly in thanks for her vow to take the blame before his blunted claws began to rapidly tap on his panel.

The main viewer, showing the now freed ship, went blank before both Bal'Ri'Sar programming ideograms and the strange programming code of the other vessel rapidly scrolled across the screen.

It flickered multiple times as the handshake protocols were initiated, and then a faded and somewhat shimmering visual representation of the unknown vessel's command chamber appeared.

Lar'ri stared in fascination at what appeared to be a pale-skinned, mammalian ape with strange garb covering most of the body and a large mass of black, curly fur hanging down off the top of the head and almost reaching the two shoulder joints.

She noticed the telltale signs of mammary glands as she eyed the two fleshy protuberances in the center of the chest area, just like the females of other mammalian species they had encountered in their own area of space when they decided to stop hiding and begin to explore the immediate vicinity around their new home.

She is a matron. This bodes well if they are a matriarchal culture like we are, she thought excitedly as she waited for the matron to show signs of receiving the visual link. The mammalian ape looked down and then back up several times, seeming to be speaking to someone else as her arms moved animatedly while operating something below the visual range of the viewer.

This one only has two arms like the other upright mammals; how do they function effectively with only two arms and hands? She felt bad for the matron being so restricted, as she imagined how much longer tasks would take with just two arms.

The screen flickered one more time, and then the matron stared right at her, seeming as if caught in a trance for several inta's before speaking loudly and forcefully while baring her square and very white teeth in what could only be anger or hate.

One of the female's hands pointed at the viewer as she said more words, her eyes filled with unmistakable fury as the computer struggled to properly translate, unable to find suitable approximations of what were surely profane words and replacing them with the Bal'Ri'Sar word for unknown.

You mother*unknown* unknown* - You will not be taking us alive, you Balrikan *unknown* - Do you think I am stupid enough to fall for this - That I wouldn't see you for what you are *unknown* you - Eat this, you pieces of *unknown* unknown* - *Unknown* initiate overload and give me emergency flank speed. Put us right in the middle of these *unknown*

The female's hand that was pointing at them slammed down on something below the visual range of the viewer before the female brought both of her hands up again, this time with all fingers closed into a fist except for one still sticking up as she pumped it towards the viewer.

Lar'ri cringed at what was surely an obscene gesture or warding sign, feeling the power and intent behind it as multiple warning hisses erupted from the techs. "Battle-Matron, we are picking up signs of a reactor overload! They are going to self-destruct and are heading right for us. We need to flash out, or we will be destroyed!"

"Order the others to flash out, now! We will hold our position; we will show her that we are not like our evil cousin-kin. If they are truly righteous crusaders who fight for life like we do, then they will not kill us just to sacrifice themselves."

None of the techs responded to her command as they stared at her in shock. "Order the others to flash out NOW!" Her sibilant fury snapped them out of their trance state, and she turned back to the viewer, locking eyes with the matron who was looking at her with pure hate.

"I am Battle-Matron Lar'ri of the Truth of Slir'lass. We are not Bal'Ri'Kan. We are Bal'Ri'Sar, and they are our enemy, just as they are your enemy. We were forced to flee from our home world because of our evil cousin-kin, and we carry the shame of their evilness upon us, even though we have done no such things as they do."

She ignored the warning hiss of the tech as he called out thirty-two inta's till estimated core overload and continued to stare directly into the hate-filled eyes of the mammalian matron.

"We have traversed the great voids of death they left for thousands of light cycles. We have felt the loneliness of many suns who still shine their life-giving light and warmth on now-dead worlds that can no longer give thanks for it. We have come to pay the life debt incurred by the evil Bal'Ri'Kan and to remove their evilness from this galaxy.

We have come to fight for the living. If you wish to sacrifice yourselves, then do so. We will remain here, and you will have to kill me and my fellow crusaders as well. We will not attack you to defend ourselves, and this will make you a slayer who steals life from others, just like the Bal'Ri'Kan do.

I do not think you are a slayer, and perhaps in the afterlife, you will see that we are not enemies, and I will plead on your behalf when we stand before the Creator. I will tell the Creator: "Absolve my sister matron who also fought for the living; she knows not what she did, and I have already forgiven her."

"Eight inta's." the tech hissed quietly as Lar'ri continued to look at the matron, seeing the wild and hate-filled white and blue eyes softening slightly as she listened to Lar'ri's death declaration.

Lifting her head to the bulkhead above, Lar'ri hooted softly before clasping her four arms and rocking her body as she purred softly to soothe her fear of dying. The other techs followed her example and did the same as they silently prayed for the Creator to prepare a place for them in his endless nest.

Lar'ri closed her eyes for the last time, saddened not to die, but by the fact that it wouldn't be in righteous battle against the evil Bal'Ri'Kan. A sharp, slapping sound rang across the now silent command chamber, and Lar'ri brought her head back down in surprise to look at the viewer from where the sound had originated.

The female ape was bent over and breathing heavily as she was looking down, her two arms moving quickly as she spoke to another they could not see. Lar'ri felt hope rising inside of her as the time for the core overload passed.

The tech confirmed her hope two inta's later. "I am detecting a large heat bloom emanating from the vessel; power level readings from their core are dropping, Battle-Matron!"

Relief flooded through Lar'ri as the matron finally looked back up and locked eyes with her. She could see the sheen of moisture on the large, pale forehead of the mammal as she began to speak, the computer translating her words almost instantaneously.

"I have stopped the self-destruct, Battle-Matron. I want to believe what you are saying, but it is very hard to get past that you are the same... species as the Balrikans. I am Sheila Mizrahi, and I want to try again if you are willing. I... I am sorry for trying to kill you and your crew; I thought you were trying to trick us, and I know what the Balrikans do when they capture ships. As long as you don't try to capture us again, I promise to not attack you."

Lar'ri chirped loudly, feeling her face scales flushing with happiness as blood rushed to them. She chirped again, lowering her head and turning it to the side to bare her throat, hoping the matron would understand that it was a sign of acceptance and submission.

The matron stared at her, and Lar'ri could sense her confusion even through the viewer. She chided herself for her dullness of mind a moment later; the matron would not know what she was doing nor how to properly respond, an easily forgivable oversight considering the circumstances.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Right before Lar'ri was about to lift her head back up, the matron awkwardly lowered her own torso and turned her head to expose her neck, her eyes locked onto Lar'ri's in a way that only apex predator species did. Is she trying to dominate me? Lar'ri wondered as the matron continued to stare into her eyes and challenge her.

Lar'ri's hackles began to instinctively rise at the challenge before she consciously suppressed it. She felt her spinal feathers settling back down as she breathed deeply to control her anger, and she could feel her face scales cooling down. The matron was not of the Bal'Ri'Sar; she would not know what she was doing.

Lar'ri reluctantly averted her eyes in submission, willing to allow the matron to dominate her this one time if it meant they could reestablish peace and move on to properly sharing scents.

Her confusion grew as the matron also averted her eyes, and she almost shrieked in frustration as she finally realized the matron was just mimicking her own actions. Lar'ri lifted her head and resumed looking at the matron, who followed her example and was now standing fully upright.

She is trying to show me respect by mimicking me. This is good, though confusing, Lar'ri realized with exasperation as she thought about what to do next. Perhaps an offer to repair her vessel will show their good intentions and help establish trust between them.

"Battle-Matron Shi'lah Mik'ra'hi, our fleet is following us and will be arriving anon. We have mobile ship repair vessels and factory ships that can fabricate plates and repair your hull damage if you would accept our offer of assistance.

I also know your argonium reserves are low; I will have my ship eject a full reserve tank and have it drift in your direction. It is my gift to you, along with the offer to repair your ship, as a way for us to show contrition for capturing your ship and further damaging it.

You can take it and use it to leave the area if you wish, though I respectfully ask you to remain so we may continue to taste each other's scents. The reserve tank has enough argonium to allow a vessel equivalent to the size of my ship to travel five hundred light cycles. Do you have the means to retrieve it and bring it inside your cargo bay?"

The matron's facial expressions were a mystery to her, not having any experience to determine what they meant, but she did see the eyes widening slightly, which she instinctively felt was a good indication rather than a bad sign.

The matron moved her head up and down several times, again something Lar'ri did not understand the meaning of, as the matron replied. It only took a moment for the command chamber speakers to activate as the computer began to convert the words once it detected the matron's language.

"I thank you for this gift, Battle-Matron...Larry? Please forgive me if I am saying your name incorrectly; I intend no disrespect. I have automated cargo arms and grapplers that will be able to grab the tank and bring it in. Please do not be insulted, but I will be scanning it to ensure... the argonium is compatible; I am sure you understand, considering the circumstances.

As much as we appreciate your kind and generous offer to help us repair our ship, we will have to respectfully decline and depart as soon as possible. I am concerned about the reinforcements coming in response to my distress call possibly misconstruing you as an aggressive force; I am sure you would like to avoid any misunderstandings as well.

If you are still intending to enter the stellar cluster, will you be remaining there for some time? Will you be continuing along this present course for the galactic arm towards the galactic core? I will inform my government of you, and I am sure they will be sending an official diplomatic envoy to make proper first contact between our respective peoples."

Lar'ri felt her scales flushing again in sadness, not wanting the matron to leave so soon after they had just agreed to not be enemies, but at least there was hope; the matron clearly stated she would inform her matriarch, and that they would send official envoys to make contact.

As she began to respond, one of the techs hooted a warning. "A small construct just flashed out next to the vessel, Battle-Matron. Our scanners were unable to detect the transition threshold, and there were no signs of imminent arrival. We were only able to detect it because of the powerful signal the construct directed towards the vessel."

The matron began to speak again, and Lar'ri turned her eyes back towards the viewer to listen as she saw unmistakable signs of fear in the eyes of the mammal. "That is one of our *unknown* drones, Battle-Matron. It detected a large force of ships coming our way, and they will be here in less than ten *unknown*. Please, we need the tank of argonium now so we can flash out!"

Lar'ri could clearly detect the fear in the voice of the matron, and she felt her own rising in response as her spinal feathers began to stiffen again. "Then they are not of your fleet, Matron, if you wish to flee. Perhaps they are from the other unknown fleet we have come to share scents with inside the cluster."

"No! They are Balrikan, Larry! Over fifty warships, according to the *unknown* drone. Please, eject the argonium so I can save my crew!"

Growls emanated from the techs as they realized the matron was warning them of approaching Bal'Ri'Kan. At long last, they will finally do battle with their hateful cousin-kin. Before she even knew what she was doing, Lar'ri clenched the arms of her nesting bench in equal measures of anticipation and fear as she leaned forward and shrieked a war cry, the first one of the Exalted Crusade since it left their home worlds.

The others responded with their own shrieks, and Lar'ri felt her blood growing hot as the sounds of the battle cries echoed off the bulkheads and she saw their spinal feathers going erect. She saw the matron visibly flinching as her skin went even paler, and she felt herself becoming bloodlusted by the mammal's obvious fear response as she began to loudly issue new commands.

"Calculate a light jump to bring us within two hundred draks of the vessel and eject the reserve tank! Issue the battle call and bring back the others; have them form a Thari'shul around the matron's vessel and prepare to defend her with their lives.

Have Battle-Matron Hir'lakkssa take her ship to the fleet to report that we have found the Bal'Ri'Kan and of our immediate need for war packs to reinforce us! The time has come at long last, Exalted Crusaders! Prepare for battle!"

The techs responded to her commands with more shrieks, their bloodcurdling cries reaching a fevered pitch within the command chamber that made her soul soar with elation.

Now she knew what the call of battle felt like for the first time, and she found herself enamored with the new sensation; she had been dead for so long inside since the great voids of death, and now she felt alive again in a way she had never felt before.

She turned her gaze back to the viewer, the pale and wet skin of the matron's face bringing her back to the moment as she felt her own spinal feathers go erect, their sharp and poisoned barbs ready to kill any who attempted to sever her spine with their teeth.

She barked for silence, and the techs quieted down immediately in response to her vocalization, making her extremely proud of their discipline. She locked eyes with the matron again as she began to speak, making sure she dominated the mammal this time as she began to issue orders.

"Hold your position; we are going to light jump to you and eject the reserve tank. The other hunters will form a Thari'shul around you and protect you until you are able to flash out to safety. They will be flashing out around and near you; do not fire on them or target them, Battle-Matron! They will be bloodlusted and will respond aggressively, do you understand?"

The matron silently moved her head up and down several times again, and Lar'ri took that as a sign of agreement or compliance. "Good. Hold your position; we will be there anon, Battle-Matron Shi'lah Mik'ra'hi."

The matron moved her head up and down again, and Lar'ri signaled for the connection to be closed before looking around at her fellow crusaders. All the techs were looking at her, waiting for her command. She flicked her tongue out in anticipation, tasting the fighting pheromones of the others in the circulating air as she raised her dominant hand.

"Execute!"

Privateer योनि लुटेरा - The Star Marauder

Periphery of Messier 35, the Shoe Buckle Cluster

June 15th, 2176 A.D.

Sheila stared at the now blank viewscreen, feeling her body trembling from the display she just witnessed. It wasn't the sheer physicality of their response to the coming of the Balrikans that scared her so, though seeing their faces turn black as large, vicious-looking feathers popped out from their spines was utterly terrifying.

It was the shrieking vocalizations and the snapping of their jaws, with the sound of rows of sharp, yellowed fangs clacking together, that paralyzed her and made her almost shit herself.

It caused an atavistic freeze response that she could not control, and it reminded her of a nature documentary she watched long ago about how tiger roars caused infrasound paralysis in their prey and made them involuntarily freeze right before the tiger attacked.

~ Sheila, the lead vessel is showing the same energy signature buildup I detected before they made the light-speed transition. I am activating our defensive systems. ~

"Annika, do not attack or target them! Activate the systems and whatever weapons we have remaining, but do not target the vessel or any of the ones with them when they flash out!"

~ Affirmative. The lead vessel has made the light jump and is now 167 kilometers off our port bow. They have ejected a small container. I am scanning the object to verify its contents. ~

Sheila waited with growing anxiety as she stared at the single vessel on the view screen. It was maintaining its current position off the port bow, and she could see numerous armored hatches sliding aside before nasty-looking turrets began to emerge.

~ My scans indicate processed argonium and nothing else, Sheila. The amount will allow the ship to travel 472.8 light-years. It is currently drifting towards us at 1,327 kilometers per hour. Deploying cargo drones to intercept now. ~

"Good. Get it inside and have the bots extract the argonium into our tanks. Continue to hold our position, Annika. The other scout ships are going to flash out around us, according to the Battle Matron. What did she call it again?"

~ Thari'shul, Sheila. The closest translation to Republic standard is "The Mother's Ring." I believe it is reminiscent of the protective circle animals form around their young when being attacked by predators. ~

"I see. Continue to hold position and let me know as soon as we are finished extracting the argoniu-" Annika cut off the rest of her sentence as proximity alarms sounded.

~ Transition thresholds forming all around us. ~

The viewscreen brightly flared from multiple exit flashes a moment later as over a dozen ships emerged from transition thresholds into normal space in a sphere formation with the Star smack in the middle.

~ Scans indicate these are the same ships that flashed out when you began to overload the core, Sheila, minus one ship. They are all opening their weapons ports, and I am detecting signs of hull polarization technology. Scanning to verify. ~

"Hull polarization? Didn't we try that before abandoning it because of the enormous energy and processing requirements, Annika?"

~ That is correct, as well as the possibility of enemies discovering the potential weakness of rapidly rotating their energy weapon modulations to bypass the hull polarization before the generators could adapt. The Republic ultimately did a cost-benefit analysis and deemed it technologically infeasible and fiscally irresponsible at the time to continue dedicating resources to the project. ~

"Well, it seems as if they figured out a way to utilize the technology, Annika. Take all the scans you can so we can bring it back home. I want—" An alert appeared on the communications console, and Sheila saw it was an audio-only comm request from the Battle-Matron.

She activated the two-way audio and cleared her throat before speaking. "Mizrahi here; what do you need me to do, Battle-Matron?"

She listened to the initial harsh hissing and guttural clicking sounds, feeling a little guilty about not being able to help but cringing at the horrible sounds before Annika began to translate what was being said.

Battle-Matron Shi'lah Mik'ra'hi, I have sent a hunter-scout back to the fleet to gather war packs to fight. For now, you will remain within the Thari'shul. We will protect you until you are able to flash out. You are to do so as soon as you are able; this is my order to you as Battle-Matron Lar'ri of the Hul'lek Clan.

Please tell your Matriarch and chieftainesses of us; tell them we are here to fight the evil Bal'Ri'Kan and that we wish to join forces with yours to fight for the living. You are the first of the still-living we have come across in many cycles, and we wish to incorporate with you and your allies.

We will fight our evil cousin-kin and interrogate any survivors to extract information from them. After we execute them, we are going to taste the scents of the advanced fleet in the stellar cluster; we hope to convince them to join our crusade as well.

If we are not successful, we will continue heading to the galactic arm. I am sending a stellar map with coordinates to a system along the outer edge; please safeguard the map and bring it to your Matriarch.

We will send our envoy there and wait until your Matriarch sends your own so we may properly share scents. The rest of our fleet will take a different path so we do not lead the Bal'Ri'Kan directly to the system. Fare well, Battle-Matron Shi'lah Mik'ra'hi; may we share scents again anon.

Before Sheila could respond and thank them for trying to save her and the ship, the line was closed on the Battle-Matron's end, the click having a finality to it that made her sad. She stared at the viewscreen for several moments, sending heartfelt thanks and a prayer for them before turning her attention back to the ship.

"Annika, how much longer before we can flash out?"

~ Four minutes, 49 seconds, Sheila. ~

"Annika, recall all the drones and have them latch onto the hull. When are we expecting the Balrikans to arrive based on the spy drone's report?"

~ I have calculated their arrival and estimate they will flash out within fifty-two seconds if they have maintained their course and speed since the spy drone returned. What are your orders, Sheila? ~

"We hold our position, Annika. We will follow the orders of the Battle-Matron and flash out as soon as we are able and we don't look back. We need to tell the others about these new... what did they call themselves?"

~ Balrisar, Sheila. I find myself... regretting having to leave them behind to fight while we retreat, Sheila. ~

"I know, Annika. I do too, but we have no choice." Sheila replied quietly, feeling like a coward for running away while others fight and die for them. It rankled her, and she distracted herself by watching as the last two spy drones flashed back out on the starboard side in response to the recall command and began to latch themselves to the hull.

~ Spy Drone Four has returned and reports the imminent arrival of the Balrikans, Sheila. Please take the captain's seat and prepare for combat, Commander. ~

Sheila did as Annika asked, noticing the change from Sheila to commander as she hurried to the captain's chair and strapped herself in with shaking hands. She felt the usual precombat jitters taking hold of her, and without thinking of it, her breathing rate changed as the long years of training took over.

She put on the void helmet and the pressure gloves that were hanging off the side of the chair and called out for Annika to vent the atmosphere as she repositioned the two small combat holo screens in front of each arm. "Annika, did we receive the stellar map? Is it compatible with our own astrometric charts?"

~ Affirmative, Commander. I have downloaded the map and all our records into the black box drone as well. All available weapons are activated. We have six missiles, three torpedoes, and four particle beam turrets charged: one bow turret, two starboard, and one aft turret.

Point defense systems are active. Sixty-three percent coverage is available; I will attempt to maneuver the ship and avoid presenting our port side to the enemy. Time to flash out: two minutes, forty-two seconds. Time to estimated arrival of Balrikans: twelve seconds. ~

"Thank you, Annika. Activate the holo tank and display the battle space."

Annika beeped before the holo tank shimmered into existence in front of her, showing a 3-D representation that rotated as a single blue icon appeared in the middle of the sphere of the now green icons. The bridge lighting switched off and was replaced with the red battle lighting as the proximity alarms blared again, casting an eerie glow that sharpened her senses.

~ Transition thresholds forming in three clusters. Distance: 32,000 kilometers off the ventral, starboard, and bow sections relative to our position. ~

Sheila pivoted her eyes to the smaller holo screens Annika put up on the side of the tank, her heart slamming in her chest as the thresholds flared brightly before the Balrikan warships began to emerge into normal space.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" she screamed as Annika finished categorizing the types of warships that were now charging at the protective sphere of Balrisar ships in a pincer maneuver.

Six battleships, fourteen heavy cruisers, twenty-two heavy destroyers, and eleven scout frigates were what they were facing, and she felt dread gripping her heart as she realized none of the scout ships protecting the Star would survive against such overwhelming combat power if their reinforcements did not arrive in time.

The Mother's Ring began milling in a seemingly random pattern, and she saw the hulls of the Balrisar ships fluorescing before they began to shimmer. The Balrikan ships opened fire, and Sheila gasped as four of the Balrisar scout ships were bracketed by multiple particle beams that were mocked up on the holo tank by Annika.

Instead of being torn apart as she expected, the invisible beams seemed to harmlessly splash against the polarized hulls as flashes of energy marked the impact points before superheated particles were ejected away from the targeted areas like ablative armor plating did when hit.

The targeted ships rotated on their axis, spreading the particle beam impacts as they began to return fire with their own nasty-looking heavy particle turrets that seemed way too large for scout ships to be carrying.

Their invisible particle beams smashed into the Balrikan ships, and she gasped in shock as she saw the bows of two Balrikan heavy cruisers that were firing at the four ships simply vanish under the subatomic onslaught of the Balrisar weaponry before the beams tore into the now exposed interiors.

The other Balrisar ships all targeted the closest battleship and fired at the same time, and she marveled at the excellent fire control and precision coordination being exhibited as the heavy armor plating on the starboard side of the battleship boiled before turning into useless slag and collapsing inwards.

A second later, the port side of the battleship was torn open as the beams drilled clear through the massive warship, and it ruptured in several places from internal explosions before the spinal support superstructure snapped clean in half. Sheila stared at the two halves of the battleship, her heart soaring at the sight of thousands of Balrikans tumbling in the vacuum.

"Holy shit! Annika, what kind of particle beams are those? Collect any intelligence you can on the weapons being fired, both Barlrikan and Balrisar."

~ I already have been, Commander. The beams are more powerful than standard particle beams; they appear to be equivalent to 60% of the power output and destructive potential of antimatter-powered particle accelerator beams, though much longer ranged. ~

Alarms blared a second later, and Sheila felt herself being pressed against the chair as the Star suddenly accelerated before the engines cut out and the ship pivoted. Less than a second later, she was shoved to the right against her straps as the port-side thrusters kicked on at full power, and she felt the elephant sitting on her again.

~ Missiles and kinetic slugs inbound. Executing evasive maneuvers. ~

The engines fired again, and the ship pivoted two more times before going into a spin that made her almost vomit as she felt and heard the ship firing the point defense lasers and grapeshot turrets.

The ship bucked violently as it was hit by a glancing blow from a kinetic slug that tore a huge chunk out of the dorsal section, and the hull rang from multiple impacts as two missiles were destroyed by the point defenses less than a hundred kilometers from the ship, peppering the starboard side with hypervelocity fragments.

Everything was happening too fast, and Shiela kept her mouth shut and let Annika fight the ship as multiple hull breach alarms sounded. The Star's other weapons began to fire, the red lighting dimming as the reactors diverted energy to the few remaining particle beam turrets, and the ship shuddered several times as Annika fired off the rest of the missiles and torpedoes.

She heard the null space capacitors start charging, and her fear lessened somewhat as she realized they were preparing to flash out. "Hold on just a little longer, baby; you got this," she murmured quietly to the ship, hoping it would hear her words of encouragement and fight just a little longer to hold on for her and the crew who called it home.

~ Twelve seconds to flash out. ~

The ship was hit again, and the entire aft end bucked up wildly as the holo tank blanked out several times before fading away. Sheila struggled to keep breathing as the ship continued to execute evasive maneuvers. "Annika... what—"

The ship felt like it was punched by the hand of God himself as it was hit again, and a horrible groaning noise echoed in the aft section, followed by the sounds of the Star breaking. All the lights and panels went dark, plunging the bridge into pitch blackness as the null space capacitors stopped thrumming and she felt her stomach flip from the sudden loss of gravity.

She then heard the worst sound one could hear in space: the sound of the reactor shutting down as the background thrumming became a fading whine that turned into a final whimper before finally going silent as the reactor scrammed itself.

"No! NO! Annika!" Sheila called out frantically as she felt the darkness smothering her like a malevolent spirit. She was terrified of the dark, and this was her worst nightmare being realized right now. She was suddenly a helpless little girl again, scared and alone as she called out for Annika in a whimpering, child-like voice. "Annika, please! Don't leave me alone in the dark... Annika?"

There was no answer, and the ship bucked again before spinning wildly out of control. The gravity generators were unpowered, and now she could feel every G-force crushing the life out of her as the air was stolen from her lungs and the blood drained from her head.

Her last coherent thought was of the captain and the crew, the voice in her head begging their forgiveness for failing them as the blackness without became the blackness within, and then she was no more.

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