www.sisterworlds.com

Well, the fall semester's over with, and now that the holidays have basically come and gone, I finally have time to write again. I'll try to make Sundays my Updays for posting, if not more often.

Sheriff Kynton had her shotgun at the ready as she stopped near Deputy Munde's body, in the dim emergency lights of the manufactory. The big wrench that had been used to crush in the back of the deputy's skull had been dropped right next to her shattered pad. There was blood down the back of the deputy's skull and pooled on the floor, and some on the wrench, but little elsewhere. Deputy Munde's head faced to the side, her cheek against the cold floor, and her eyes staring vacantly at the sheriff.

Kynton ran through the list of Governor Keldon's thugs and assistants in her head, flashing their images and names to make sure they were emblazoned in her mind. One of them had to have killed Munde, as no minder would have resorted to such physical tools. Kynton promised herself that, regardless of the law, she would have a hard time not shooting any of the sons-a-bitches on sight.

The manufactory shuddered a bit. Unlike the other pods, arranged in a high tower, the manufactory was arranged in a low-slung ware-house style. The manufactory pods had massive doors that interlinked from all sides, forming nearly empty shells that unfurled into other shells, shuffling pieces and components about to create the necessary colonial manufacturing capabilities. Without the manufactory, the colony would likely have been doomed to centuries of back-breaking toil just to survive Rodella; only, they hadn't landed on Rodella.

The sheriff quietly moved onward, shotgun still at the ready, as she moved through the manufactory. The hand-sized mantis attached to the laces on one of her boots quietly pinged her pad. Kynton scanned cautiously, before shifting one hand and pulling her pad from her pants pocket. She glanced at the pad, seeing that it was a notice from her mantis, Mud Bug. A small army of other mantises were scouring the manufactory with her. The pad indicated 'all clear'.

Kynton relaxed a bit, and then sighed, glancing back at Munde's body. She slung the shotgun, and started moving towards the control room, as she dialed out.

The mining drone's driver answered from inside the drone, "Tanner, here."

Kynton said, "Bugs say it's clear in here, Tanner. How's things outside?"

"Oh, can't complain." The image shifted sideways a bit and a loud bang was heard through the pad, and a moment later, through the manufactory's walls. "Just a some demons we're sendin back to hell, s'all."

The sheriff said, "I'm heading to the control room, see if there's anything in the files there. Lemme know if you need a hand; I can still call on the marines."

Tanner said, "Actually, I got one on the side band, fella by the name of Snake. I do the corrallin, and he does the cullin -- though sometimes we switch turns."

Kynton smirked to herself, realizing that she was feeling a bit possessive of the marines, and Glory in particular. "Well, good. Keep me posted." She didn't wait for a reply, already dialing the Johnsons. As soon as there was a signal, she asked, "You two got an election planned, yet?"

Camille Johnson looked rather haggard, but there was a fierce determination in her eyes that the sheriff had never seen before. "Election'll be up in five minutes, Sheriff. Your name's on the ballot."

Kynton snorted. "All I need." She glanced around each corner cautiously, her hand on her holstered blaster, though she strode with confidence. Several mantises precessed her, checking around each corner as she went even before she got to them. "Might as well knock my name off, Camille. You know I got a job to do."

Mrs Johnson simply arched one carefully plucked eyebrow, and said, "What's that, Sheriff? I can't hear you." The connection went dead.

The sheriff snorted. "You hear that, Mud Bug? Some dumb shmuck put me on the ballot for mayor!"

The GLObal Reconnaissance and Intelligence Agent spoke through the pad. "Stand by for a colonial vote. The list of candidates has been posted to your systems. Final nominations for candidates will terminated in one minute."

Kynton moved up a set of stairs and tried the door at the top. Power had been cut off to the manufactory, and powered doors required considerable work to open. The door the control room was unpowered, and the sheriff stepped just behind a half-dozen mantises. The dim emergency lighting showed banks of systems that were so much gobbledy-gook to the sheriff, but the floor was something else again.

There were six bodies on the floor, and a lot of blood. The sticky blood squelched under the sheriff's boots as she moved around the room. Each of Deputy Munde's would-be murderers was dead.

Kynton cussed, assessing the lay of the bodies and the types of wounds each had sustained. The work looked familiar, and it took the deputy a moment to realize what she was seeing. Each of Keldon's goons had been ripped apart like they were mere paper dolls, and it had been done so fast and so hard that the few faces that remained had no expression on them. The six men had been taken by surprise, probably from someone in their midst.

There were prints of some sort that walked out one of the other two doors of the control room. The prints were clearly from an armored marine.

Kynton carefully opened the other door, her hand on her firearm. She knew the weapon would be useless against a marine, but she hoped it would be worth a try. On the other side of the door, the blood tracks vanished.

Her pad pinged, and GLORIA's voice intoned, "Voting is now open to all Citizens. A new mayor and deputy mayor are being elected by the Rodella Colony, as per Colonial Charter Section Three, Subsection Four, Paragraph Five. There are seventeen candidates for the positions. Please review the list of candidates and indicate your votes."

Kynton checked the disappearing prints one more time, and then pulled out her pad. She brought up the candidates' names, and voted for Mayor Ryan Hedges for governor, and his assistant Sam Hoffpouer for assistant governmor.

She closed out the voting window as it pinged, and Mud Bug pulled desperately on her pants, indicating she turn around immediately.

Kynton whirled, her blaster out, and she froze. In all her many years as a law enforcement officer, she had only ever frozen once before, when she had been a green rookie. She could not move, as her pad scrolled a UV warning and her position.

The one intact corpse was pushing itself up to its feet, no part of its head left above the shattered remnants of the neck. A corpse that had been ripped in half was looking at her, its eyes white with cataracts, as it slowly began crawling towards her. A set of legs moved, coordinating such that they moved in her direction, as though the top half were low-crawling invisibly. The broken bones of the pelvis and the trailing colon moved through the sticky blood on the floor, pushed from behind by legs and feet finding what purchase they could.

One of the corpses took a deep, rattlingly wet breath, and then moaned, half-congealed blood dripping from its mouth.

The moan shook Kynton out of her fright, and she wheeled the shotgun off her shoulder and released the safety. "I am not in some God damned zombie movie!" She let off a blast.

The dozen rounds from her shotgun slammed into the nearest corpse, the torso that was crawling towards her. The rounds stuck into the skin, some piercing it, and then they arced with considerable voltage. The corpse thrashed around for a bit -- and then kept coming, moving more quickly.

Kynton had to leap back through the door and race away from the corpse. Unlike her, the dead goons did not tire, they did not slow down, and they came as fast as they could.

Wooo! The Angel Knights are back!

Staff Sergeant 'Cajun' Robecheaux looked up away from the hull of the Ramiel. The ship dwarfed her mirrored armor, it's white ceramic hull stretching off into the distance for miles. Above her loomed a blue and white marble with swaths of greens and browns and tans, and the dim glow of the moon was visible in a reflection off of an ocean.

'Damnedrock', or Ja Zed as the natives called it, was beautiful. She wondered, for a moment, if it's how Earth had looked before the Impact, before the Age of Man.

She glanced at the rest of her squad, and saw them similarly enraptured. Instead of saying a word, her mind's eye tore through images and files in her node, finding the timeline, and then posting it in all of the squad's eyes. They blinked, refocusing, glancing around, and returned to the task at hand.

Gator slipped up through the airlock carrying a large case. The horse-sized silver mantis moved to the other side of the squad, and took up a launch position. The timer was rapidly counting down.

Gunny's rough voice said in their ears, "Thirty seconds to jump. Intel's updating, but remember -- you'll have zero comms while you're falling through plasma."

Cajun said, "Acknowledged."

Seconds counted down, and then there was no time left. Cajun heard Saint say, "Launch!" as she leapt straight up in a controlled power-assisted leap. Pimp pushed up too hard, denting the deck plating and launching well ahead of the rest.

Saint shouted, "Pimp!"

Cajun said, "Stay on line. We'll catch him in the atmosphere. Pimp, watch your viscosity and we'll catch you on the infall."

Pimp said sheepishly, "Acknowledged."

Pimp's armored form accelerated slowly away from the rest of the squad, as Damnedrock's gravity well began to draw them in. Cajun, and several others in the squad switched to rear-view as they plummeted towards the world below. Behind them, the Ramiel began to dwindle, slowly at first, and then with increasing speed.

Long moments went by, as Cajun continued cycling data from Gunny to the rest of the squad. The situation on Damnedrock was coming under control. The minders were sending fewer and fewer attackers against Mound City or Glory's squad. The demons being ground down by the colonists' mining drones, with the help of Snake's team.

And then bits of fire began to appear around the falling marines. It was tenuous fire, there and gone, almost unseen from moment to moment. And then the fire began to blossom and grow. Radio communications began to fizzle, the data stream becoming more and more interrupted.

Cajun slowly let a grin spread across her face. She loved reentry, reveled in it. She briefly wondered if Yuris' sky ships came in like the marines did, or if they had to travel much slower.

The dark-skinned man was still aboard the Ramiel, and Cajun wondered what would wind up happening to him. The Ramiel's shuttles were gone. Unless the Devil's Fist could drop off the crew of the Ramiel, then they would remain in orbit until the colonists could build some sort of vehicle -- assuming the Ramiel could remain in orbit. The massive ship might go flying out into the stars, to be eaten by the massive hell-snakes or the star-beasts.

Yuris might be treated as a nominal member of the crew, but he was still something of a prisoner of war. Cajun thought of his situation, and frowned. Yuris and his crew were in a tight spot, and she wanted to help.

Reentry became more turbulent, and she had to focus on her viscosity. It determined how much drag she created, how controlled her reentry was, how much fire there was, as well as her direction. Minute adjustments in that viscosity over the whole surface of the armor let her go in where her instrumentation indicated she should be.

Moments after the flames went out, she found herself over white clouds in thin blue air, still easily outpacing the speed of sound. The light-reflecting images of the rest of her squad showed up on sensors, spread out over ten square miles. They began to link up, Pimp actually in last, where he had used too much viscosity to slow him down too far.

Their intel feeds began to reassert themselves. And suddenly, they were across the terminator, flying in darkness, even though the land below was still lit by the dying light of day.

The squad leader quickly detailed the battle-mech to alter course, angling for Glory's squad. The mech carried spare ammo and weapons all over its carapace, as well as some additional equipment. After impacting near First Squad, gator would drop off his supplies, and make for Mound City.

Saint said, "Squad's up; looking green." He noticed Gator veering off and paid it no mind.

Cajun acknowledged, "Roger. Keep em on an even run. Looks like we're dropping directly into Mound Ci-" The squad listened intently, and then saw the update she had forwarded to them. "Son of a bitch."

Glory came up on Cajun's visual. "Can you believe this shit? We've got a damned Night of the Living Dead thing going!"

Cajun pulled up a map of Glory's location, and saw movement in all directions. UV tags were lighting up the area around him as the corpses of the many, many minders near him all began to animate. More undead UV tags were coming in from Mound City. People were dying.

Cajun asked Glory, "What's working?"

Glory said, "Max mass or lasers. Chop em down to size. Or-" He grunted, and said, "Armor through them. They're just meat."

Cajun passed that along to the squad, and asked, "Snake?"

"I'll keep him on my rein, for now; he's part of my team."

"Understood." Cajun said, "I'll take Mound City, and leave the rest to you. Going to need those interfaces, though, for the orbitals and any mechs."

Glory groused at that for a moment, and then instructed Snake to regroup with him and turn over command of the orbiting battle-mechs to Cajun's squad.

Cajun looked at the mech data, and shook her head. There were too few battle-mechs for her taste, but it would have to do. She funneled the battle-mech command codes to Juliette and Pimp. "You two are my eyes in the sky, and my fire in the sky when we call for it."

Juliette, senior ranking of the two, said, "Aye, Cajun."

The land below them went dark.

They continued their seemingly slow glide through the air, seeing the reflection of the stars in the ocean -- and then they hit like stones from above. The impact absorbed almost all of the energy of their descent, and Cajun picked herself out of a sand bank in the middle of a forest. The rest of squad was nearby, and similarly unburying themselves.

Saint clapped his hands together, the sound magnified a thousand times by mud and power. He said, "Let's go, let's go! Ho, you land feet-first again and I'll play porn in your ear for an hour."

Private Ho could almost be seen shamed into a reddish color despite his silvery helm.

Wash, Juliette, and Pimp already had their weapons out and at the ready, old combat reflexes coming to the surface. The rest soon followed their lead, until only Saint and Cajun were unarmed. Saint slowly pulled his weapon off his armor, making a show of checking its stats. When Cajun still did not draw her weapon, the assistant squad leader cocked his head at her.

Cajun watched the feeds from four different places at once, confident that her squad had the upper handle. Gator had impacted not far from Glory's squad, and was quickly making time towards First Squad. The undead were rising everywhere; it seemed the night was not safe. Even where there were no bodies, mantises in lookout positions could see dark and ghostly forms, some of them even flying.

Cajun shouted, "Move, move, move!" She bounded in the direction of Mound City, less than a kilometer away.

On a private comm, Saint asked, "Weapons?"

Cajun said, "Bare fists. It'll keep the damage to a minimum, but keep the rest of the squad with weapons. Let's get some experience, first." On the squad circuit, she said, "Wash! Monitor Juliette and Glory; figure out what works on all these different undead." She forwarded him the mantis data about ghosts and dark flying things and the like.

Mound City's spires had been visible as soon as they came up, and there was still little in the way of a clearing around the city. The marines leapt out of the foliage moving at a high rate of speed.

A colonist, her form glowing in ultraviolet light, rushed at them. She was missing one arm and there was a great hunk of meat missing from one leg. Saint powered through her and her body nearly exploded in the impact. The sergeant paused, realizing what had happened.

Cajun said, "Stow it, Saint. Your instincts were right; she was a minder -- or minder controlled."

"She was a colonist!"

"Not anymore."

Juliette said, "Demon, incoming." She and Pimp raised their weapons up to the sky, and fired into the darkness.

A falling screech indicated a hit.

Cajun said, "Split up, by teams; stay integrated. Saint, keep em in line, and move in block by block. I'll set up in the center."

Saint asked, "Bait?"

"Maybe. If they go that high." She rushed down the street while Saint gestured for two teams to go left, one to the right of his.

Cajun saw that Gator was making good time, but was still an hour out. She plugged into the mantises, and seemed able to see through buildings as they fed her data.

There was an odd ping from the manufactories, and then Sheriff Kynton's image appeared in Cajun's eye.

Kynton said, "Am I glad you're here! We've got bodies coming up all over the place!"

"You all right, Sheriff?"

The other woman answered, "Right as I can be. These things don't die; you blow off an arm, and the arm attacks you separately. You got someone headed to the Hospital?"

Cajun paused a moment, and said, "Shit. The morgue." She pulled up Saint, and yelled, "Get a team to the morgue, ASAP!"

Emergency calls were up all over the city, and that traffic hid the calls from the hospital.

Cajun said to the sheriff's image, "Troops on the way!"

Kynton looked a bit relieved, and then said, "Got a doozy or two for you. Some of the bigger demons -- can't find their corpses."

The marine said, "Shit. We can keep an eye out for them, but..."

The sheriff nodded, "All we can do." She saw something, and then stared at her pad, looking at Cajun's image. "I thought you marines didn't have hair."

Cajun glared at the image, and then at several chestnut curls visible near her eyes. "Long story, Sheriff." She leapt up three stories, and then leapt off the side of a building to another, gaining height with each leap.

The GLObal Reconaissance and Intelligence Agent intoned, "Voting is complete. The new Rodella Colony governor is Jessica Kynton. Assistant Governor is Ryan Hedges. Congratulations, candidates. Now transferring colonial command systems to Governor Kynton."

The image of the sheriff was speechless. "What in tarnation?"

Cajun yelled, "Sheriff! Governor! End the war! Release all capital assets!"

Kynton blinked several times, "Do what, now?" She blinked again, realizing exactly what it was the marine was asking her. The new governor said, "GLORIA, release all capital assets! End this damned war!"

GLORIA responded, "Terminating state of war with Hydran. Please define capital asset restoration personnel."

The sheriff asked, "What the hell?" The image spun around, and then continued spinning out of control.

Cajun heard a scuffle going on, and several shots were fired.

The marine altered course, leaping from the top of the building and angling straight for the manufactories and the position indicated for the former sheriff's position.

The marine linked in with the mantises nearest Governor Kynton, bringing up additional views. Kynton raced around a corner to get away from a headless man, but the headless man moved faster than the panicked governor. The corpse bounced off a doorframe, unable to see without its head. Then it seemed to sense its prey, somehow, and continued after the governor moving faster than the prey could.

Cajun raced across the top of another building and then leapt off towards the manufactories, still several buildings away. She nudged the mantises to begin using their monomer lines as nets and trip lines to slow the undead down. One of the mantises, the governor's own, pinged Cajun back, indicating an acknowledgement and taking over the management of the many mantises nearby.

The staff sergeant landed and rolled. Her k-armor could absorb nearly all of the impact, but doing so could damage the structure of the building given enough impact. The LT wanted them to minimize damage wherever possible. He hadn't said a thing about what Snake or Glory had done to Mound City, but he might just be hoping that the new governor would overlook what the marines had done. Cajun could only hope so, as she raced across the building in several long strides, and then leapt again.

The hacker within the marine let a part of her mind marvel at how many mantises had attached themselves to Jessica Kynton. She briefly checked in with the rest of her squad, cycling through their situations, before bringing up the data file on the mantis attached to Kynton herself.

The marine landed and rolled, continuing her run. The mantises all over the city had begun using their long-wave radio lines, the monomer threads, to slow or even stop the corporeal undead. Wash was ashen-faced as he fought the incorporeal undead. He and Roman had taken considerable damage from a darkness that leached their body energy and even drained their battery packs considerably. The marines had become targets for such monsters, drawing them as a food source of some kind.

Roman had reconfigured a laser wand for less wattage and more frequency, pushing it from a green cutting beam to an ultraviolet billion-candle spotlight. The beam seemed to hurt the incorporeal undead, forcing them back. Wash forwarded the reconfiguration to the rest of the squad right as Cajun was observing and considering.

Saint pinged an acknowledgement, and Cajun saw the rest of the squad taking up similar tactics.

"Titans!" she hissed to herself. She had forgotten about the titans, and the two war machines had been sitting there, unused, since Third Herd took over.

She pinged their location, and found the two armored forms nearby, idling.

Quick commands moved them towards the manufactories. She messaged Gator and told the battle-mech to control the two titans for her, while she went to protect Governor Kynton.

GLORIA said, "Assistant Governor Bryan Hedges has declared a State of Emergency for the Rodella Colony. All personnel are to remain indoors wherever possible. Only emergency personnel are authorized to be out-of-doors at this time. Anhian Tennabraus and Samuel Hoffpouer have been defined as capital asset restoration personnel."

Cajun leapt onto the roof of the manufactory and found herself with company. A number of demons had been hiding out in the vast middle of the manufactory's roof. They saw her and scattered, some taking to the skies. They did not register in the ultraviolet spectrum, and she ignored them for a split second. Her M25 spat death as she recognized the threat, even as she raced across the rooftop towards the location of the governor.

She got a ping from the Ramiel, and the LT's face appeared in an image on her helm. "Ramiel's back under Captain Tennebraus' command. Devil's Fist is arcing off. The hell-snakes are too close for GIS cannons, but we think they might not be needed. More to follow."

Cajun popped her M25 off her armor, and aimed it at the roof. She frowned, wondering what else in the world could handle a hell-snake. She fired a directed low-power laser burst in an arcing circle, spinning in a circle and then dropping through the hole. Her orders had been to minimize damage, but that did not preclude her from doing what needed doing. Of course, as soon as she dropped into the hole, she registered several roof hatches nearby as their electronic codes pinged her system.

The marine dropped several stories and landed with a metallic clang. Her M25 spit fire for a few moments, and then she reattached it to her armor. "Madam Governor."

Kynton collapsed against a wall, knees buckling, desperately drawing air into her lungs. She was bleeding profusely from her forearm, and there were scratches and cuts here and there. The former sheriff had her gun clutched in one hand like a club, and its handle was covered in thick pink paste that had once been blood and brains and skin and bone.

Cajun checked the area for any signs of motion or ultraviolet. The remains of the undead that had been chasing Kynton were still moving, albeit weakly -- the parts that were still animated had no way to advance against anyone. Otherwise, the area seemed clear. Some of the body parts were cold to UV, no longer animated.

The marine slipped her healing wand off her armor, and applied the nanite paste to the governor's myriad wounds, beginning with the bleeding arm.

Kynton's breath slowed enough that she could speak somewhat raggedly. "Thanks, for the save, marine."

Cajun set the helm's faceplate for transparency, and said, "I'm Staff Sergeant Robecheaux, Third Squad, Squad Leader." She smiled a bit, and said, "Just call me Cajun."

Kynton held her breath for a moment, and then continued breathing. The older woman smirked. "First marine I've seen with hair."

The squad leader grimaced, but paid more attention to the governor's wounds. She pulled up a channel to the LT and said, "Governor is secure. Minor wounds." She glanced around at her squad inputs. "Situation in Mound City is slowly coming under control."

Riley popped up in a two-dimensional image. He seemed distracted. "Understood." He paused for a moment, and then continued. "Get the manufactories back online, if at all possible." The image disappeared.

Kynton stood up slowly, using the wall and one of Cajun's gauntlets for support. She said, "I'm getting too old for this."

Cajun smiled. "Since when is any age good for running from the undead?"

The governor flexed her arm, nodding at the wand's work. "Good point." She looked around for something, and couldn't seem to find it.

"What are you looking for, ma'am?"

The governor said, "My pad..." She stopped. "Never mind. I just remembered where it is. Or was. Listen, you got a line to GLORIA?"

Cajun nodded. "I'm pulling her comms online now."

"Good." She started to walk, and then had to stop and figure out where she was. After a moment's hesitation, she struck out in a direction. "Tell GLORIA to release all power and all systems down to the lowest level."

Cajun checked the manufacturing pods' layout and realized the governor was headed for the nearest exit.

GLORIA responded through the marine's helm. "All power and systems have been released to echelon personnel."

Kynton said, "Good. Now get me David Tanner."

GLORIA instantly responded for the governor, connecting to the man through Cajun's helm. The image projected on the helm, and Cajun found herself looking out through the image at the governor, while simultaneously watching over her squad.

"Tanner, here. Congratulations, Governor!"

Kynton said, "Aw, can it, Tanner. Meet me by the manufactory, east second entrance, if you can. I gotta uncluster this mess. What's the situation with the demons?"

The light-eyed dark-haired tenor said, "Demons are mostly running for it, Madam Governor. The marines have the undead situation in check; still cleanin em out, here and there, though. Deputy Black's been going door-to-door with the marines, cleaning the spookies out."

"Tell Black... Never mind; I'll tell him. Just meet me at the door. GLORIA, get me Deputy Black."

The image shifted as they walked, and two marines appeared with a dark-skinned man in uniform. The man asked, "Sheriff? I mean, Governor?" He stared at the wall for a moment, as though it were haunted. The two marines took his hand signal, and went around him and further into a building's guts.

Kynton said, "You're Acting Sheriff. I've gotta get this pigsty cleaned up, and I can't be in two places at once."

Black said, "Understood, ma'am. Uh... Hate to bring this up, but Munde's killer?"

"Dead. Twice dead."

Black nodded, a look of satisfaction in his eyes. "Situation here's bad, ma'am. We're getting the upper hand again, but we got a lot of people hurt, and a lot of people spooked."

"I'll work on it. You finish what you're doing, and come find me when you get a chance."

"Yes ma'am."

The new sheriff moved out of the picture, and GLORIA shut off the pickup.

Cajun prepped her M25 and preceded the governor out of the manufacturing pods. A mining drone was waiting for them, overshadowed by two twin silver titans. The marine glanced up into the night's stars, and wondered how the situation was up among the stars.

Yes! Revolting, creepy, undead: the vacant stare was misleading; well done- it got a shiver from me! Great interaction between Kynton and Cajun. I loves it. It's excellent to return to the Angel Knights and I look forward to what will happen next. :) Cheers.

Warrant Officer ‘Bear’ Ptelya grimaced under his helm. “Theese not lookink goot.”

The other pilot at the helm of the Devil’s Fist opened a secure communication to the massive colony ship known as the Ramiel. The Marine Detachment Liaison answered, his aged eyes looking calm in his youthful face. “Go ahead, Jew.”

Woe Jew said, “Dunno what to do, sir. We’ve got all our systems back, but we’re too close to use the GIS cannon. Nothing else is working on these hell-snakes, and it’ll be twenty, thirty minutes, at least, before we can lure the two following us. You’ve still got that monster and some others on the inbound. ETA at twenty to thirty minutes.”

Lieutenant Riley, the MDL, glanced at his systems. He had been following the situation as well or better than both warrant officers, and Woe Jew’s summary felt like the woman was finding something to do in reporting; finding a purpose in falling back on reports in the absence of orders.

The largest of the hell-snakes was almost on them. It was fast-approaching the lunar distance, as were the other hell-snakes sticking close to it. They moved like a classic armada, the smaller hell-snakes acting as an escort for the more massive one. Despite the armada-like appearance, nothing they’d seen yet indicated anything more intelligent than an animal.

The Ramiel had no weapons. It’s weapons were the marines, and the Devil’s Fist -- and the only weapon of the Devil’s Fist that worked was the Gravitational Implosion System cannon. The gravity field generated by the GIS cannon would distort local space-time enough to alter the orbits of the planets, especially as close as the Devil’s Fist was.

Lieutenant Theriot had analyzed the solar system of the Ekiras star as though it were an ecosystem. She had created a food web and energy hierarchy that worked from a biological perspective, as the hell-snakes and star-beasts appeared to be biological organisms. Theriot’s work indicated that there had to be a defensive system around the planets, to protect them from the hell-snakes; otherwise, the hell-snakes might consume them. That, or the hell-snakes simply could not escape such a massive gravity well, and it would kill them. Either way, all anyone could do was hope Theriot’s analysis held even a smidgeon of truth.

Time was running out. The Ramiel had nearly completed its second loop about the world of Damnedrock, and was less than ten minutes from an atmospheric breaking maneuver that would also dump the remaining Colonial Reentry Pods. Even if the hell-snakes continued to come, there was hope the colonists would survive on Damnedrock, despite the rough situation down on that world. The Ramiel, though, was a different situation.

The great colony ship, nearly six miles long, had never been designed for multiple back-to-back atmospheric breaking maneuvers. The ship had been damaged even before the first breaking maneuver, and had sustained considerable damage roaring through the atmosphere. If the second breaking maneuver didn’t destroy the ship in a ball of fire, or cripple it, or send it careening out towards the stars on a broken orbit, then the hell-snakes might still destroy the Ramiel.

Mere heartbeats went by while Riley processed the woe’s statement, also listening to the small noises of a very tense bridge crew. He hit ‘send’ and said to Warrant Officer ‘Jew’ Goldstein in a quiet voice, “Get here as fast as you can. I want you in close in case we have to evacuate.”

There was a slight delay as speed-of-light delayed communications, and then Jew blinked. “You think it’ll come to that, sir?”

Riley noticed the glances at him from the Executive Officer and the Chief Medical Officer, and he ignored them all. “You can’t do any good out there unless you’re Weapons Free. If nothing else, we might could use the Devil’s Fist as a booster for the Ramiel. Get here, ASAP.”

Moments later, Jew nodded. “Aye, sir.”

Captain Tennebraus said, “XO. Begin calculations for attaching the Devil’s Fist to the Aft section; man hours, equipment, stresses, everything.” He made sure the XO nodded, and then turned to Lieutenant Riley. “MDL. Begin assessing evacuation plans for the Ramiel.”

Riley nodded, and opened a channel to his platoon sergeant.

Gunner Sergeant ‘Loco’ Tsokuyek answered immediately. “I heard, sir. Escape pods might be the best bet, depending. The Devil’s Fist might could dock with the C&C, and take on as many as she could, but even if we fill her up to Full, there’d be a lot of people left behind.”

Riley glanced at the CMO, and then pulled up the CRaP data, selecting for pods not containing personnel. A number of pods near the C&C and Aft sections indicated ‘available’ status, and Riley felt a moment’s pang in this gut as he realized that those pods were ‘available’ because the colonists inside were dead. He looked at timing to load, and sent a quick ping to the captain. If he wanted any of his crew to go ahead and board the CRaPs, then they would have to do so immediately; reentry would begin very soon, and would burn away any crew outside the pods.

Captain Tennebraus noted the ping, and dismissed. He sent no answering reply, and made no overt acknowledgement of receipt. That told Riley that the Colonial Reentry Pod options were out.

The MDL paused, thinking outside the box. If the gravity well was the only thing that protected the planets from the hell-snakes, then there had to be limits. There were small moons through the solar system, and still many asteroids left in the belt. The star-beasts had fed on power, but the hell-snakes apparently fed on the rarer metals and other elements found in star ships. The remains of two other star ships had been found in the system -- one in orbit about the inner moon world of the gas giant, and the other in orbit about the outer ice world. But if the gravity well itself was not what kept the hell-snakes out, then there had to be a defense system of some sort.

Most defense systems had friend or foe capabilities, or communications of some kind. Everything unusual or unique about the Ekiras system seemed to revolve around 320 nanometers, the least dangerous form of ultraviolet light. It was like a beacon indicator, to show where ‘magic’ was used. The hell-snakes glowed with that power spectrum, while the star-beasts did not. The star-sailing ships of the Brijanids glowed with ultraviolet light when they were alive, but did not when they were dead. Down on Damnedrock, the minders and the undead were visible by their ultraviolet signatures.

Regardless of the UV, there had to be a way to interact with any potential defense systems. Riley said, “Gunny, talk with GLORIA -- find out if there’s some kind of…” He closed his eyes in frustration. “Take over; I gotta talk with GLORIA for a moment.”

Gunny said, “Aye, sir,” with a question in his tone. The gunnery sergeant eavesdropped on the lieutenant’s visuals and inputs, ready to forward anything to the MDL as he took a brief trip into a virtual world.

The black marbled floor stretched out in either direction, the mists obscuring anything in the distance. The light was dim, as though the sun were trying to peer through the clouds on a blustery winter’s day.

Riley appeared in his usual virtual regalia: a black suit, black tie, white shirt, and black fedora. His black leather gloves flexed audibly as he considered his best options.

He said, “GLORIA.”

The GLObal Reconnaissance and Intelligence Agent said from all directions in her powerful voice, “Yes, Lieutenant.”

“Is there a defense mechanism in place around the worlds of this system?”

The artificial intelligence said, “There is a 65% probability of their existence.”

Riley asked the air around him, “Based on what data?”

The mists cleared, and deep space appeared, mirrored in the black marble floor that stretched out to infinity. The solar system of Ekiras appeared as though from high above the plane of the ecliptic, and points of light were identified as worlds and moons and asteroids.

The solar system began to speed up, going faster and faster, the many asteroids also going faster and faster, lines trailing behind them to indicate their past positions. Asteroids merged, slamming into one another, ricochets happening at thousands of times normal speed. A strange pterbation occurred around the gas giant, as the inner Class M world disappeared, taking its two small moons with it. The asteroids continued to make many circular lines, and then slammed together more, making larger and larger rocks.

That’s when Riley realized that he wasn’t watching the future -- he was watching the past. He was watching GLORIA turn back the clock on the entire solar system, tagging the asteroids and their behaviors -- watching the probable feeding patterns of the hell-snakes at work. He saw that the hell-snakes tried different portions of the asteroid belt at different times, feeding sometimes on Trojans that followed gas giant, swinging back into the belt, and then back out to feed on Trojans ahead of the gas giant. Asteroids and rocks in similar orbits with the other worlds were similar affected by the hell-snakes.

A large, apparently stable asteroid suddenly coalesced from many large spinning chunks. Riley watched the same pattern of small rocks form into larger ones, progressing in visible waves throughout the belt and elsewhere the ice or stone of the solar system fell.

The numbers of hell-snakes could actually be calculated, and their probabilistic locations through time tracked, based on the fragments still existing. One wave of hell snakes simply disappeared as it crossed the outer -- at that time, only -- Class M world about the gas giant. The pattern of larger rock formation in that area of the solar system simply stopped, for reasons unknown.

Riley pondered. The hell-snakes could have attempted to eat that moon world, but there were no indications that the other hell-snakes attempted to eat moon worlds. He watched as the simulation continued running backwards into time, running faster and faster. Hundreds, and then thousands of years, had to be flowing by.

Some of the asteroids, those with the black non-reflective surfaces and a faint UV glow, also seemed to destroy hell-snakes.

It brought up a question, though. The Ramiel and the Devil’s Fist had both been able to get close to the worlds without trouble. They had not knowingly used any Identify Friend or Foe signals, and so if there was a defensive system, it had to be keyed to something, to target it.

Riley snapped back into reality, his thoughts and fingers rapidly punching out commands. One of the twelve battle-mechs in orbit about Damnedrock began altering its laser weapons systems to generate flash pulses at 320 nanometers. The Number Eleven battle-mech turned on its UV flashlight, and began cycling more and more power into the modified laser weapon. The power cycling through the laser hit 22 megawatts, and then every photosensitive sensor on the ship overloaded.

Captain Tennebraus said, “What, was that?”

The Chief Maintenance Officer said, “Sensors overloaded. Recycling.”

Riley’s comm lit up from both the surface and the Devil’s Fist.

Staff Sergeant ‘Glory’ Gloriden said, “Sir! The moon just lit up like a sun in the UV!” He forwarded the data and imagery. The entire surface of the moon continued to blaze at 320 nanometers for some seconds, and then the UV light just disappeared as though it had never existed.

The Number Eleven battle-mech was nowhere to be found. There was only an ionized cloud of silicon, carbon, and oxygen already being captured by Damnedrock’s magnetic fields.

The Chief Maintenance Officer said, “Sensors back online. No change. Looks like there was a massive UV pulse of some kind.”

Riley swallowed, and glanced at the power output estimates for the hell-snakes. The weakest was putting out close to 50 megawatts of ultraviolet light. The star-sailing ships had barely put out 500 kilowatts of power.

Gunny said, “Son of a bitch… We’re safe!”

Captain Tennebraus slowly turned in his seat, his furrowed brows staring at the MDL. “MDL. Would you mind explaining what the Hell just happened?”

Lieutenant Riley said, “Sir. The hell-snakes are no longer a concern. There Definitely is a defensive system to protect Damnedrock and its near-space from hell-snakes.” He forwarded the data and orders to Captain Tennebraus.

Woe Bear said from aboard the Devil’s Fist, “Deese scary. I don’t know weetch is worse; the hell-snakes or knowink what kind of power we just were seeink.”

Woe Jew nodded. The output sensors had managed to go through their digital records frame by frame, and saw a bust of ultraviolet energy rise off the moon like a spectre and then speed towards the Number Eleven battle-mech, vaporizing it instantly. Damnedrock’s moon had put out as much ultraviolet light in that millisecond burst as the Ekiras star put out in a day. The hell-snakes were going to get trashed if they continued following the Ramiel.

The largest of the hell-snakes, a monster some three hundred miles long, began to turn, altering its orbit. Most of the smaller hell-snakes began to turn, as well, but two of the smaller hell-snakes continued moving on towards the Ramiel and the world of Damnedrock.

The lead hell-snake suddenly disappeared as the sensors overloaded. The sensors cleared themselves moments later, and the lead hell-snake was a small nebula of ionized gas.

The sensors overloaded again, and the second hell-snake was also a small nebula of ionized gas.

The largest hell-snake continued its slow turn, before it was bathed with more ultraviolet light. One of the hell-snakes escorting it, too close to Damnedrock, was gone in a blaze of incandescent gases.

Woe Bear and Jew watched, fascinated, as the giant hell-snake continued its slow turn. Another of its escorts disappeared in a flash of gases. Still the giant continued to turn away, seeming to understand that certain death awaited it.

Woe Bear grinned. “It’s not goink to make it! It’s goink to be destroyed!”

Woe Jew nodded, watching the too-slow behemoth cross some invisible line. But the sensors didn’t overload. The beast continued its turn, and another escort, too close to Damnedrock, passed the invisible line with no problem.

Woe Bear looked on in disbelief. “Vhat? Vhat is happenink? Vhy is the moon not firink, now?”

The giant hell-snake began another slow turn, back in the direction of the Ramiel.

Lieutenant Riley answered a Priority communication from Staff Sergeant ‘Cajun’ Robecheaux. “Sir… Nightmare’s woman, Dream, is screaming something about the seals being broken. She says the demons are going to come, and we have to defeat them.”

Cajun’s voice was deadpan, but the screaming in the background was something more than hysterical. It sent shivers down Riley’s spine.

One of the remaining hell-snakes began to race away from the monster, making fastest possible speed directly for the Ramiel.

Mooooooooooooooooooooooooooore, I need more.

I have been wondering about these defense systems, now I wanna know more!

Riley asked out loud, "GLORIA, where are the broken seals?"

The powerful AI responded. "Please specify broken seals."

"Where are the damned seals that held the hell-snake demons at bay?"

The XO said, "Reentry in five minutes."

GLORIA answered Lieutenant Riley with, "Hell-snake seals location is unknown."

Riley fell back into the virtual world, nudging Gunny to take over as he did so. Riley wore his customary black suit, and habitually flexed his wing-tipped shoes and leather gloves. "GLORIA, who knows where the seals are?"

"Unknown," said the all-powerful voice from everywhere and nowhere.

"Bear said the Dream spoke to him, in a dream -- about Deacon breaking the seals." Riley talked almost to himself, thinking things through. "Deacon's armor and the mechs sent to get him were in the manufactories -- and then a hundred e-armor suits were stolen...." He broke off, staring into the leaden sky of the virtual world. "GLORIA, where is Deacon's armor?"

A large screen flashing 'priority' repeatedly appeared. Gunny was indicating that Riley was needed back on the bridge, out of the virtual world. Riley stayed, waiting, as full seconds dragged on.

GLORIA finally said, "Deacon's armor is currently located in the Directorate city of Damagos."

Riley heard the XO's voice echo through the virtual world, sounding as though it came from underwater. The lieutenant struggled back to the real world, as claxons sounded and red lights flashed. The Ramiel had begun reentry, and the colonial pods were being disgorged, even as one of the smaller, faster hell-snakes chased the giant ship into the atmosphere.

Gunny said, "Shit's hittin the fan, sir," the message sent through the lieutenant's node.

Riley shot back a quick text, "Options?"

The bridge was awash in noise, vibrating, shaking, claxons, verbal commands, updates, and occasional sound bits from GLORIA.

Riley realized in horror that the bridge crew were wearing only uniforms and k-suits. The only silvery e-suit on the bridge was his own. If the Ramiel were to begin to break up, Riley would survive, but no one else would.

The lieutenant glanced at the captain, and then at the Chief Medical Officer, Gunny's wife. She was focused on several surgeries, staring at the bulkhead, coordinating medical systems while she repaired a colonist damaged by reentry -- and then lost the colonist as the reentry heat went critical in that area.

There were no weapons they could bring to bear against the hell-snake. The MDL's station indicated less than a minute to intercept. The Ramiel was still disgorging Colonial Reentry Pods. The Helm was flying with the aid of GLORIA, attention heavy on maintaining their projected course. The XO and the Senior were calling updates to one another, with the Captain occasionally making slight corrections. The Chief Engineer coordinated with the XO, specifying what on-the-fly repairs he could.

The ship buckled a bit, and the helmsman's eyes went wide. He barely managed to keep the massive ship on course, missing the ocean by a mere kilometer and vaporizing a long swath of seawater in his wake.

Shouts of damage went back and forth, repairs and powers redirected. The Captain had the presence of mind to activate the Midships batteries to power nanite repairs throughout the ship. A section of the Engines crumpled in, damaging the mighty systems. A section of the bullet-shaped C&C section was lost to atmosphere, and burning hot reentry plasma began to flow into ship's systems, eating up systems as they went and threatening to blow the entire front end of the vessel apart. Only nanites powered by seeming magic kept the ship from exploding in a twisting, spinning fireball.

Riley's eyes snapped to an image in his corneal ring, and he fired commands to the orbiting battle-mechs. Missiles left the mechs in seeming slow-motion, and their plasma weapons disgorged.

If the Ramiel was enduring a nasty reentry, then the hell-snake would have to endure even worse.

Atmosphere that had already become awash with thermal chaos was intentionally distorted even further, and the battle-mechs created a pressure differential within the atmosphere that only added to the distortions.

The hell-snake hit the boiling water in the Ramiel's wake -- and blew to pieces in a multi-megaton explosion of fiery hot debris. The boiling water might was well have been a wall of pure metal a hundred miles thick, given the speed of the hell-snake. Mass converted to energy, and the Ramiel bucked.

The Helm corrected for the distortion, warned as he was by the Captain, who saw it all unfold from his central seat, his corneal ring overloading with the sheer volume of information it was feeding his eyes, his node raising his brain's temperature to almost feverish intensity. The Captain's nanites had to up his oxygen concentration, forcing his blood into a hyperoxgenated state, his brain operating at almost 15% of maximum. Any higher, and he would pass out from oxygen deprivation, and still the nanites struggled.

Gunny's wife startled, and looked over to the Captain in the midst of the chaos, the Captain's nanites alerting the entire staff to a potential problem.

And then they were weightless.

The XO said, "Out of atmosphere."

The Chief engineer said, "Massive damage across the board. We should've crashed." He repeated in disbelief, "We should've crashed..!"

Captain Tennebraus said, "Good job, everyone. But we're not out of the woods, yet." He turned to face Lieutenant Riley. "How long until the next hell-snake gets us?"

Riley swallowed, and looked the captain straight in the eye. "It won't, sir."

The bridge was silent, the claxons shut down by the XO, as all eyes but the CMO's turned to Riley.

Riley said, "The hell-snakes aren't following us, sir. They're attacking the planet."

He sent the imagery to all of their nodes, and they could see, with their own eyes, that the hell-snakes were dropping through Damnedrock's gravity well at a sedate pace, preparing to set down on the world -- and eat it.

The largest of the hell-snakes was having an easier time of it, than the smaller ones, and was already dipping through the atmosphere. The projected points of impact were all populated areas across three different continents, including one somewhat close to the Directorate, where Deacon's head still was. None of the hell-snakes were going to immediately visit the small continent where Mound City was, or where the remaining colonists had been successfully dropped off.

The XO cleared his throat, and said, "Last pod has touched down safely."

Captain Tennebraus asked, "Casualties?"

Andrea Tsokuyek, the CMO, said, "Five percent. I lost five percent of them." She was still staring at Captain Tennebraus, as though waiting to see something.

Tennebraus flared his nostrils, and closed his eyes. "Chief, begin rigging some stills; we're going to need more fuel. Helm, coordinate with the Chief; solar sails and a gravity sling-shot, back to the gas giant. CMO; this could take some months, so coordinate with Senior. XO, oversee."

Riley took a deep breath, and then slowly let it out. The captain had said nothing to him. Riley knew what he had to do. Somehow, some way, he had to get the seals restored.

In the meantime, the bridge was still in something of a shock, realizing that the hell-snakes were going to eat Damnedrock -- eat a whole planet, and everyone on it.

Tennebraus said, "Let's move, people. I want action, not audience."

Warrant Officer 'Bear' Ptelya received his orders from Lieutenant Riley. "Ve are ordert to rendezvous wit the Ramiel."

Woe 'The Jew' Goldstein looked at the orders herself, and shook her head. "Goddammit."

Hot on their heels were two of the 'smaller' hell-snakes, each several miles long.

The Jew calculated multiple pathways back to the Ramiel, and sent them to Bear. Bear, meanwhile, performed a myriad of system checks, and then chose one of the pathways back to the Ramiel. Their route would take them dangerously close to the moon, and Woe Bear pushed the projected path even closer to the moon.

Woe Jew asked, "Planning on slamming one into the moon?"

Bear replied, "I am hopkink so. Am thinking might be window, too, for GIS."

Woe Goldstein blinked, and turned back to her calculations. The Devil's Fist began accelerating hard, and she began to feel the gravities even through her e-armor.

In every gravitational system, there were certain sweet spots where gravities cancelled out. The more bodies in a system, the more complicated the calculations, the more sweet spots there were -- and the more instabilities there were in the gravitational system. The GIS canons couldn't operate within a certain range of the planet or its moon, because its power would add to the instabilities; it could knock the moon out of orbit, or smash the world into the moon.

Gravity dropped off at the square of the distance; the further away an object was, the less effect the GIS canon had on an object. It did not mean the canon had no effect at huge distances, just that they were diminished. The several firings of the GIS canon in the Ekiras system had already caused considerable instabilities. Several asteroids had altered course; the gas giant had a huge storm building up due to atmospheric turbulence; the Ramiel had had to make minute course adjustments...

Calculating the impact of the GIS canon was often ignored in the heat of combat, with only a minimum safe distance involved around habited worlds. Further damage to the system, such as causing an asteroid to shift its course towards impacting a world, was usually dealt with after the battle was over with. In this particular instance, The Jew had the rare opportunity to calculate well ahead -- and plan an ambush.

It assumed, of course, that the two hell-snakes chasing them would follow.

The Devil's Fist received light-delayed imagery from Damnedrock. The hell-snakes were landing, and eating the world, people and all.

Jew would have said something, but the acceleration was hammering into her chest.

Bear managed to say, "Thinkink hell-snakes feast on moon, now, not us."

Jew stared at the imagery the orbiting battle-mechs were sending, lending silent agreement.

She wondered, fleetingly, how the colonists were handling the situation, even as she checked the updates on the Ramiel's status.

Cheers and clapping roared out of the command center room of the Government Tower in Mound City.

Governor Kynton strode into the command center with a look about her that could freeze the blood of demons.

Assistant Governor Hedges stood up as the commotion among the command center trailed off in hushed tones. Hedges beamed, not picking up on Kynton's granite face. "We've done it! The last of the colonists are down!"

Kynton said, "Prepare to evacuate."

Hedges and everyone else looked confused. The demons had been virtually wiped out, the undead were under control, the minders were staying away... It seemed the city was finally under control, and things were looking up after so much had gone so horribly wrong.

Hedges asked, "Evacuate? Why?"

Governor Kynton said, "We're getting off of this rock, any way we can. I need the manufactories up at full, batteries focused. We've got schematics for basic stuff. We have to leave, as soon as possible."

The former sheriff stood with her hands on her hips, and stared at all of them, willing them to understand. "This world is about to be destroyed." She nodded at the marine that had followed her in.

The marine looked at the big screens, and then forced them to change to a new view -- of the other side of the world, where a three-hundred miles long hell-snake was gorging itself on mountains and continental crust, and everything that covered them. It had already consumed a vast swath of magma-filling destruction, and was almost visibly growing. Around it, other hell-snakes were feeding and destroying.

The screen zoomed in, as one of the smaller hell-snakes fed on a sea-side town, thousands of people extinguished in an instant. The hell-snake sucked in a tremendous amount of water, and then turned back to land, feeding, crushing up earth and rock and stone and clay and soil and plants. Magma welled up from the depths of some of the hell-snakes deeper bites, and gases and steam and debris were pouring into the atmosphere from whence the hell-snake came.

The crowd in the command center took on a terrified tone.

The few natives of Tosguethar in the room screamed, pointing at the screens, seeing their Ragnorak already begun.

Governor Kynton tapped on her pad, finding the systems she wanted, and then spoke into the pad. Her voice boomed from the speakers throughout the room. "STOP. Stop, right now. Panicking will get us killed. If you want to live, you will do as I stay -- or I will Leave your sorry asses behind. My job is to protect you, but I will Not throw everyone else's lives away for you. Now, pull yourselves together."

She tapped the pad again. To the assistant governor, she said, "Get the manufactories up to full. I don't care what you make, but make it fast. Make it big, because we're taking everyone we can from Tosguethar. And any survivors from Hydran, as well."

The governor turned to the marine standing next to her. "You got a problem with that?"

The marine, nearly the same height as the governor and built in a feminine way, said, "No, ma'am."

Governor Kynton said, "Good. Let's make it happen, people. We don't have much time."

Hedges moved in as quickly as he could, and said in a low tone, "Jessica, the manufactories can't possibly make anything like, like an interplanetary ship, in..." He looked flustered, and glanced at the marine, hoping she would know.

The marine said, "In less than two weeks, the atmosphere will be unbreathable. This world is already dying."

Hedges began to look pale. "Two weeks?!" He turned to the governor, and back to the staff and crew and people that were looking on in earnest, ready to panic again.

The marine said, just loudly enough to be heard by everyone, "In one week, working round-the-clock, you can build enough parts for a support system. In two weeks, you can build engines to take you out of here. You can use the pods themselves, link them together."

She nodded at the screens in the command center, and rotating schematics formed, demonstrating three dimensional builds for linking the pods and then building images into a new ship.

Hedges looked at the images, and said to someone, "Jimmy, can it be done..?"

One of the city's engineers said, "Uh... Looks it, but... Two weeks, we can't breathe; how we gonna build that, if we can't breath?"

The marine shifted the screens without touching them, and lists began to form.

Gunnery Sergeant 'Loco' Tsokuyek continued calculating the colonists' minimum requirements. The pods would be cramped even more than they were to begin with, but it was the best plan he could think of. Before the colonists could even begin, they would need the tools to build the tools to create a ship; and they would need stim packs to keep them up, nanites to heal on-the-job injuries, networks to coordinate everyone working simultaneously, and so much more.

An icon appeared in Gunny's vision, indicating a call-request from Glory. The platoon sergeant's mental eye went to the icon, and activated it.

Glory said, "Got a pow-wow going with the minders. Kulmee's in position to act as relay; looks like the monks managed to get ahold of someone in charge in Hydran. -Ish."

Gunny pinged the LT, and said to Glory, "Show me."

I love this story, but I hate reading it piece-meal. I demand MORE! More, more, more!!!