Vulko'op sighed as the next person moved up in the line. The starship that had arrived were carrying the survivors from, well, something. The ship was a Unified Military Council ship, battered and hammered, with carbonized sections on the hull, damaged weapons and engines. It had landed, the support strut on the right wing had failed, and the crew had all clattered off, carrying stretchers and med-stasis pods as they hurried.

The spacecraft was on fire now, the spaceport emergency responders were trying to put it out to no avail. Vulko'op could tell that the jumpcore was on fire now, which left no chance of it going out.

The Lanaktallan who moved up in front of him had bandages over his rear and middle eyes, half his tendril were missing, an arm that was held in a traction cast also held in a sling, was dragging a hoof, and had burn scars down both flanks. The Lanaktallan looked around slowly, flinching back slightly when Vulko'op cleared his throat.

Vulko'op tapped the scanner in front of him.

The Lanaktallan put his wrong hand on the scanner. Vulko'op sighed when he realized that the hand normally used to access the ID system and verify someone's identity was completely covered by medical bandages and a traction cast.

The Lanaktallan clumsily held out an ID billfold.

Drukmo'o. Infantry Heavy Gunner Specialist. 1243th Infantry Division.

"Go ahead," Vulko'op sighed. "Any luggage?"

"No," the male said, looking somehow more despondent.

"Move along," Vulko'op said. He looked over. "Next."

This one wore a sash still. It was scorched and frayed, but proclaimed the Lanaktallan to be a Planetary Defense Thirtieth Most High. He was covered in bandages, only one eye peeking out. When he slapped his hand down the ID system flashed.

Lu'ukmo'o. Dolgeth System Planetary Defense. KILLED IN ACTION.

"I'm sorry, Most High, but..." Vulko'op started to say.

"How would you like to spend the rest of your life scrubbing out neo-sapient shitters with your tongue?" the Most High snapped. "It's obvious I wasn't killed, into a tendril trembling intellectual deficient petty time server such as yourself."

"But I..." Vulko'op tried to say.

The older Lanaktallan leaned forward. "Update it. Now. Or I send your family to the pleasure domes and have you cleaning shit covered streets with your face while being ridden by neo-sapient children."

Vulko'op nodded, swallowing, and hit update.

The "KILLED IN ACTION" vanished.

The next one came up. KILLED IN ACTION appeared.

This one held out an Eighth Most High Executor badge.

"Change it or face me," the Executor growled.

Vulkmo'op changed it.

All of the two hundred survivors from the ship were listed as Killed In Action. By the twentieth Vulko'op's supervisor, summoned by the VI, hit override on it all so that no more angry battle injured Most Highs came up to his office and threatened grisly and terrible things to him.

By that time the first through the line, Drukmo'o, had trotted through the spaceport, mixing in with the crowds.

Nobody noticed his colors shifted slightly. He slowly grew white 'sock' hair above his hooves and two white splots on his flanks. The burn scars shifted pattern. The bandages around his arm, the traction brace, and the sling miraculously vanished between two sec-cams as his patterning rippled.

When he got into the exit station he held his hand out, slapping it down.

Tunvo'o. Eightieth Most High. Heavy Infantry Gunner.

The Shavashan behind the desk just motioned as she saw the "UPDATING" change the "KILLED IN ACTION" to "WOUNDED IN ACTION". She breathed a sigh of relief as the Lanaktallan didn't do anything but trot out of the spaceport concourse and into the waiting area for transportation.

The cab driver picked up the Lanaktallan with a sash and an expensive looking flank covering. The Lanaktallan just input where he was going and the cab driver, a HiKruth, decided he wanted nothing to do with a 19th Most High of Military Intelligence and drove the Lanaktallan to the Unified Council Center without saying a word or turning on the music.

The Fifteenth Most High of Executor Combat Operations and Intelligence stopped in front of the courtesy desk, staring at the receptionist for a long moment. The receptionist had had her share of shocks over the last almost two years and just brought up the high security holoterminal while staring down at her desk.

The Fifteenth Most High did a query and trotted away.

The Ninth Most High System Defense Coordinator left the elevator and trotted down to the meeting hall, limping slightly from a plasma blast that had barely healed on his left flank and scars from being hit with Terran high velocity kinetic weapons.

The Master at Arms took one look at the scarred veteran and turned away, unable to hold the gaze of the high ranking Executor. His implant merely flashed "EXECUTOR" rather than any rank or titles.

The Lanaktallan limped up and stood near the stage, watching the speaker at the podium.

Behind the speaker was a map of the Unified Civilized Systems, showing different colored waves advancing through space.

"Giant combat mechs then landed on Cormizon-1134 but were driven off," the Most High at the podium stated. The world being pointed out went gray.

"Lies!" the Lanaktallan Executor, his black hide hair with white socks, white hair on his muzzle, and a black sash roared out.

He held out his hand before the Most High at the podium could speak.

Everyone in the chamber saw the screen flicker twice before "EXECUTORY OVERRIDE" appeared in red letters.

"THIS is the vaunted strength of the Unified Coporate Military Forces," the black Executor sneered.

On the screen hundreds of Lanaktallans in blue armor were screaming, rearing up, and galloping away from six large mechs. They had reverse jointed legs like birds, bobbed strangely as they walked, and only seemed to have a few weapons on their heavily armored forms.

"I'M GOING TO STEP ON YOU!" an obviously laughing Terran voice boomed from the loudspeakers on one of the avian-like mechs. There was a pause as the slowly moving mech made slight gains on the fleeing Lanaktallan forces. "EVENTUALLY!"

"THIS is their valor," the black Executor sneered.

The picture flickered, along with the lights, and the image changed to a huge mech, at least 10 meters tall, with a massive hammer in his hands, running forward, jumping into the air with the assist of thrusters, and slamming down on a tank with both feet. It began smashing the tanks around it with the huge hammer.

"WHEN JOHN HENRY WAS A LITTLE BABEE!" the mech pilots sang. "SITTING ON HIS DADDY'S KNEE!"

The tanks broke formation, all of them fleeing independently, while the mech chased them, still singing, still swinging the hammer.

"HE PICKED UP A HAMMER AND BIG OLD CHUNK OF STEEL!" three more tanks were pounded into scrap by the hammer with the flare of graviton generators releasing their change. Estimates on the side bar put the kinetic force of the hammer at well of a thousand tons at terminal velocity at each point of impact based on the flare.

"AND DROVE IT INTO HIS DADDY'S KNEE!" the pilot sang as he knocked the turret off a tank, leaned down, and breathed liquid fire into the interior.

"This is their victory on Cromizon-1134," the Executor said, his voice flat and dead.

Smoking cities turned to rubble. Destroyed factories. Ruined starports. The neo-sapients, UnUnified Species, and Near-Civilized being marched into massive dropships. The Lanaktallan survivors finding nothing but bags of seed and strange tools.

Example after example was thrown up, short 5-10 second clips showing the Lanaktallan forces being routed, being completely obliterated, being overrun and destroyed. Many Lanaktallan diplomats and politicians where whinnying in anxiety as the last clip came up.

The destruction of the Dolgeth Military-Industrial System.

"Yes, our forces are driving back the Terrans at every turn," the black Lanaktallan said.

The image of feline-featured moon-faced Terran immature females clad in heavy power armor yelling "DOKI DOKI DOKI!" as they laid down devestating magnetic acceleration weapon fire, signs on their back with strange emojis, flashing emojis in the air, and burning Lanaktallan troops alive with flamethrowers.

A horde of massively muscled green skinned bipeds all clad in junk arranged like armor and firing multiple weapons at once climbing over the dead Lanaktallan troops to keep fighting, keep burning, keep attacking. Many of them wearing Lanaktallan scalps on their heads like wigs.

Images of a massive human in heavy plated power armor, helmetless, with a burning bird with spread wings on his chest grabbing Lanaktallan in full power assist armor and ripping them in half. "GIVE THEM NO QUARTER, BROTHERS! IN THE NAME OF THE OMNIMESSIAH AND HARMONY!" he was roaring out.

Images of massive robot power armors stomping Lanaktallan warmechs flat while laughing.

"Yes, our total victories," the Lanaktallan sneered.

"We have taken the war to the Terrans and have accomplished military victories on nearly four hundred planets," a Second Most High protested.

"You mean, these Terrans?" the black Executor asked.

The screen cleared, the lights flickered a few more times, and the screen showed a resonance zone beacon. It was speaking in Terran and it took a minute for the translation to come through.

It was from a place called "Harmony", where weapons, armored vehicles, material of war or violence was forbidden, where treaties prevented Terran Confederacy vessels from even entering their space. Violence was prohibited and they had renounced all violence and primitive and harmful and thanked anyone with violent intentions for their decision to leave Harmony in peace.

"So, you missed, and shot a non-combatant in the face," the black Executor sneered.

"They fought, put up stiff resistance against our forces. We have lost nearly 18% of our invasion forces," another Most High protested.

"And then... you did this..." the black Executor said.

The lights flickered a few times and the images of dead Terrans, dead lizard bipeds, started appearing. Shuffling forward, moaning, gnashing their bloody jaws.

"A bioweapon that did not even work correctly, merely turned the majority of the population into mindless, deathless killing machines," the black Executor said.

The lights flickered slightly and there was a faint squeal through everyone's datalink that only lasted a half second.

"Amazing invasion and counter-invasion and defense, Most Highs," the black Executor said. He began stomping his front hoofs in slow, mocking applause. "Would you like to see the Terran dismay at what you did?"

Green lights came on at the seats and more than a few of the Lanaktallan Most High's rubbed their hands and clopped their hooves eagerly.

The Shavashan, N'Kar, Hakanian, and Pukar diplomats and politicians looked away and pressed the button for negative.

"Why, Most Highs, gathered esteemed gentlebeings, behold the absolute dismay and despair your actions have had upon the Terran Confederate people," the Executor sneered.

The lights flickered.

The video had "LIVE FROM TERRANT-14" on it. Armored bipedal soldiers marched by, their armor matte black, their visors opaque, marching in perfect lockstep, weapons on their backs, equipment belts on their waist. The crowds were cheering as the soldiers marched through the streets. Banners were translated as "REMEMBER HARMONY" and "VENGEANCE FOR HARMONY!"

Long minutes passed, then armored vehicles appeared. Massive, heavy tracked vehicles moving one at a time where two columns of perfectly marching ranks 30 soldiers wide had just passed. The vehicles bristled with weaponry with a black armored soldier visible from the shoulders up out of a hatch at the front and one from the waist up at the top. Then hovercraft. Then perfectly marching warborgs.

"You get the point," the black Executor said, turning off the video and making the lights flash. Another video came up. It was of a young looking biped, his head hair cut almost savagely short, his eyes cold and clear blue, his jaw square with a cleft in it.

"How long have you been in the military?" an unseen female asked.

"My whole life. I was twenty-five when the Mar-gite Invasion happened. I joined up the day the video of those women and children being eaten hit StellarNet," the male said. The words MARK ANGELINA IKTAKIK URDRU - CONFEDERATE SPACE FORCE (ARMY) were underneath him.

"Have you seen much combat?" the female asked.

His eyes went unfocused for a minute then he smiled. "Two hundred seventy-three years, eight months, nine days in combat zones, of that I've spent eighty-six years eleven months, thirty days in direct combat action."

"Wow. If you can tell me, what's your current military job?" the female asked.

The human male smiled and his eyes got an odd red sheen deep inside. "Drop Pod Forward Assault Infantry. Love it. Some of my descendants, including four of my daughters and an ex-wife, were in Harmony.

The red glow got more visible.

"I can't wait to get podded onto one of their worlds."

The image went still on the smiling human's face, a faint red glow, possibly a trick of the light, still in his eyes, his meat tearing teeth bared.

The lights flickered.

"Behold Humanity's despair," the Executor sneered as the lights steadied.

All the Lanaktallan could practically feel the rage and madness coming off that image.

"Raise your hands if you think that your vaunted forces will stop him from ripping his way into this very room," the black hided Executor said, putting all four hands on the podium. He paused a second. "They know where this world is. Do you think that, at this very second, that insane lemur isn't on a ship eagerly awaiting to shred this system into space dust? Do you?"

There were murmured sounds of negative and several patties hitting the floor.

"I submit that we take a vote," the Executor said, looking at them.

Several politicians queried their datapads to check the big black Executor's credentials and only got back "EXECUTOR SEALED FILE" back. But the codes checked out so the Lanaktallan all looked up.

"We move to emergency government relocation," the Executor. "Not vote on it now, but seriously consider it."

He looked out over the Assembly.

"The Terrans know the location of this planet. They are driving deep into our space. We must ensure the continuity of our government to preserve our way of life," the Executor said.

"They are coming. Consider the relocation plans. Talk among yourselves. Perhaps a vote at another time?" the Executor stated.

Multiple Lanaktallan brought up the Emergency Procedures Act on their datapad and saw it was available to vote on.

Without even checking, they privately voted on it.

None of the other species but the Lanaktallan were given the option.

The Executor stared for long moments.

The vote passed. An innocous file unsealed and its contents were distributed among the important Lanaktallan on the Capital World. Notifications were sent through GalNet to inform those who needed informed on the location of their fallback position and new government rank.

The lights flickered a few times, but nobody noticed.

"Excellent."

-----------

The large black Lanaktallan trotted out into the foggy night, sneering at the warnings of the Night Terran. He kept going until he saw the alley lights go out as he passed the alley. He turned and moved into the alley with no fear.

A tall shadow, lean and topped with a pale blurry face, leaned out of the shadows.

"Initiate Stage Three Division Process," the black Lanaktallan ordered in perfect Terran Standard. It put its hands in front of its belly button, pressing its fingertips in a sequence. The belly button dilated open and black mist poured out. "Authorization Gamma Seven Seven Darkon Niner Niner Barovia Sigma Azalin."

The black clad bipedal figure seemed to swell.

Then turned into a near dozen perfect copies.

"You have your orders, Nosferatu," the Lanaktallan said.

It turned and galloped into the foggy night as the thirteen Night Terrans moved into the shadows and disappeared.

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PROJECT NAZGUL, OVERPROJECT MORDOR ACTIVE

STAGE ZERO COMPLETE

STAGE ONE UNDERWAY

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