Beacon pushed the remains of the pilots into a neat pile and evaporated them with his plasma and then sat down, making himself comfortable at the command console. He watched the Marines outside run around like some headless fowl as they tried to force open the doors. Wasn’t going to happen unless he let it, the whole point of the vessel was that it couldn’t be taken while the marines were busy boarding some other sorry bastard. He contemplated his route to the Messaclip, estimating he had around four hours before he was in full scanner range of the ship. Time to shut up the squeaking soldiers outside.

He started by cutting off the grav plates throughout the ship and then immediately put the ship into a spin. He sat comfortably as the g-forces built, passing beyond anything organic life could withstand and gave it an hour, turning the ship into a blender. Outside the soldiers were being flung at increasing speed into each other, into every wall and every fitment. He watched with interest until the cameras were blinded by spray, then he turned the gravity back on and steadied the ship. Softly whistling, he released the defences.

The thick door swung open silently, leaving a smear across the floor. It was covered in scorch marks and dimples from weapons fire. He gazed at the new decorations that the corridors were coated with…mostly bits. Bits and blood. It wasn’t exactly the personal approach that he preferred but sometimes just making a mess would get his point across. He ambled through the ship ensuring none of the bits could speak or move, taking the odd souvenir, until he was certain no one would be sending out any inconvenient signals. He burned off the mess currently sticking to his feet and concentrated on the next part of his plan.

_____

Silver Wisp had prepared for the service, organising the witnesses and their requirements. Now he simply stood beside Rowan and readied himself.

In front of him sat three altars, recovered from the wreckage of the world. Stone, ice and soil. They had been recovered by one of the witnesses, a human that had chosen naked space as its environment and disliked interiors. It felt this was a suitable demonstration of its grief and solidarity. Silver Wisp agreed.

At Rowan’s request, it was taking place in her quarters and the soft green and gentle breeze seemed to gentle the mood. No one forgot that they were here on a mission of death and vengeance but it reminded people of their better selves.

The man that stood forward to conduct the service was tall, thin and grey-skinned, wrapped in a dark robe. He stood in front of the altars and paused, waiting for the conversation to dwindle. When he was satisfied with the quiet, he began:

“Welcome to the Family of Man. I am called Seeks/Dark/Places and today is a dark day. I too spent my early life on a children’s planet, running with spears, hunting and rejoicing in our beginnings. My own children are doing so today. To see such a place so brutalised is a horror to all of us but we cannot behave like children ourselves. I ask you to reach out to me and let us join in our grief, our distaste for what we know must come and seek absolution from Humanity itself.”

Silver Wisp closed his eyes and tried to centre himself. Psionics wasn’t something he ever dabbled in, he felt his own mind and motivations needed enough work without peering into other peoples inner selves. Still, he felt a certain relief when the minds around him were joined and he found himself in the company of his peers. Once you stripped away all the alterations he felt the humanity in the room in a way that mere appearances would never permit.

---------

The Messaclip was currently impatiently waiting for the Marine ship to arrive. The Captain had been provided with the full, lurid, and confidential description of what had happened on the Haven of Fire and the reassuring presence of a few hundred marines might calm down his crew. And himself, if he had to be honest. He flinched at the memory of the celebrations on board after they had eradicated the humans. A battle with no consequences or risk? It had been a pleasure to use so many restricted systems, forbidden by tedious treaties until they had been sent as the wrath of the goddess on the perverted creatures. Now it seemed they had an equally perverted guardian and it was coming for his ship. He snapped at his Comms officer, “Where are they? I want to speak to the Marine Commander.”

The Comms officer nodded, “Yes Sir, they are in comms range. Hailing now.”

----------

The console started buzzing impatiently as Beacon returned from his walk. He grinned slightly, the Messaclip must be getting worried. He constructed a virtual environment and allowed the call. The Comms officer simply saw the scowling face of the Marine Commander that was currently smeared across three decks like jam, “What?” demanded Beacon.

The Comms officer stuttered slightly, surprised by the aggression, “Sir, the Captain wishes to speak to you. Putting you through now.” He hurriedly pushed the call to the Captains cabin with a sigh of relief. The bridge crew glanced at each other and pretended they had heard nothing.

The Captain was impatiently prowling his office, feeling the hot breath of a predator on his neck in a way that he hadn’t in his adult life. It was the same fear that had driven his people to destroy the humans in the first place! He wanted guns, men, reassurance.

Finally, he was face to face with his protector, “Commander, what is your status?”

Beacon was rather enjoying the opportunity and opened his mouth in a sneer, “ My what? Are you blind? Did you somehow miss my ship approaching? Or did you forget your orders to maintain signal silence until I land?” He pushed his face closer, “I know you herbivores don’t like to face some death ghost alone but letting the whole system know you need a babysitter won’t help your career, will it?” He pulled back, “I’ll be on your ship in two hours. Shut up, sit down and wait until I get there to hold your hand. Tell your senior officers and staff to meet my ship, I don’t want to repeat myself. Commander out.” Beacon cut the call. That should do wonders for morale.

The Captain stood in front of the blank screen and gently deflated, his mouth working soundlessly.

-------------

The service dispersed gently, everyone preoccupied with their own thoughts. Silver Wisp and Rowan remained with Seeks/Dark /Places and let them leave before he spoke, “The reality of war is never as simple as the idea of it. “ Rowan remarked.

Silver Wisp nodded, “But it is not new to us and I must make preparations.” He turned to the Seer, “Thank you, that was very helpful. Let me know if anything arises that I need to deal with.” He bowed to Rowan and left.

They watched him go. Rowan turned to the tall, grey Seer, “So, your verdict? I ask as one of the Quorum. This is my war,” she reminded him.

He grasped her hand, “Then I will show you.”

The imagery was slightly strange almost like a dream half-remembered. The Seer chimed in, “Your mind is interpreting things for you. I am simply sending the raw data.” She closed her eyes and took the sense of a rough wind blowing through her branches, dark clouds and storms on the horizon. The smell of burning, the smell of dying trees and dead ground. The silent weeping and then the rage. She felt herself meld with her community, seeking blood payment for an atrocity. She felt the disciplined wrath of Silver Wisp stand out, driving the battle and unwilling to see the green places fall again. She saw the spear in his hand, his shield held high. She felt her people wrap themselves tightly around him, becoming a banner on the spear. A licence. She opened her eyes and looked at the Seer. “Thank you.”

She bowed and turned away.

--------

“Citadel-class Marine 3008 requesting docking.”

The Captain had remained in sullen silence until the ship arrived. He would have words with the Commander on his terms, on his ship. He hadn’t felt so humiliated since he had been a junior officer and crossed a senior NCO. He commanded a battleship! He went beyond the ‘request’ of the Marine Commander and filled the landing dock with his ship guards in full armour as well as his officers. He knew it was childish but he still sent the orders. He also scanned the incoming craft until the paint on it started to blister. Then he decided to wait on his bridge and meet the insolent marine from his command chair.

Beacon had stepped off the marine ship as soon as it had passed through the sensors. He chirped out the docking commands even as he made his way behind the assembled crew of the Battleship and then he waited. He really wanted to see this.

The ship landed unmolested and unprotesting. The troops waited, wondering why they had been woken up and sent to the armoury for this. It was just the marines. Still, they held their ground. The silence drew out as no one opened the hatch. Some uncomfortable twitching and scratching filled the vast room. Nothing and nobody moved. The Captain seethed. Obviously, the Marine Commander was waiting for him to appear. He should have spoken up but the damned creature had made his point about signal silence. He curtly nodded at his bridge staff and stomped off to meet the blasted soldier

The landing docks weren't particularly pretty, utilitarian ramps and offices clumped into some sort of efficient machine. It did, however, have the military pomp that insists on a proper entrance for the Captain. His personal guard hurried behind him as he marched to the hatch and waited.

Nothing.

Beacon grinned.

The blood and then the smell, that's what the crew remembered. As the Captain had ordered the hatch open a flood of gore had seeped out of the ship. They saw clumps, then they saw the walls, they saw the Captain begin to throw up as he tried to wave them away. Then the smell, a smell that filled the room and entered the vents, sharing it with the rest of the ship. The Captain's guard grabbed him and began dragging him away, the Second ordering them out and calling for medics. No one moved, held by the horror.

Then they remembered that they were military, proud upholders of the Empire and drew their weapons, ready for anything. Nearly anything.

From the speakers set in the walls, from their personal comms and from somewhere behind them came a slow clap. The cadence filled the room until everyone turned, searching for the cause. It seemed to come from the shadows, shadows that weren't supposed to be there.

Someone thought to fire, or their trigger discipline was shot. It didn't matter as plasma flew into the dark corner someone had thought responsible. Mindlessly they all fired until the clapping stopped. The poor office and its inhabitants were blown apart until some semblance of discipline returned. The frozen silence held until the NCO's started shouting and they were shuffled off the dock, out to spread horror amongst the rest of the crew.

The medics had assured him that there would be no lasting side effects, it was simply shock. A few days rest and some therapy and he would be fine. He stared at them, " Rest? That monster is on my ship!" The Captain pulled himself away from the healers and began closing his uniform. He snarled at the doctors, "What I need is information! What happened to my Marines??"

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