'Stand up prisoner,' snarled the heavily armoured guard. Philips looked up dejectedly, taking care to not let his emotions slip, maintaining the façade. He waited until they untied his chains and he collapsed onto the ground. That he didn't need to fake. He was exhausted and had been for… Void knows how long. He had long since lost track of time since they had dragged him in here. They hadn't broken him, though. They thought he was, but he was still determined to one day see the stars again.

A second guard moved in and the pair forced his hands onto his back, thick cuffs clicking into place. He knew there were more of the bastards. He couldn't sense them like he usually did, his sixth sense numbed to blackness, but he had learned how to wield the other five instead. There was a distinct smell to the oil they used to maintain their armour. The soft creaking of their armoured gauntlets that often ran red with blood. The shadows they threw when they passed one of the few status lights that blinked on and off in his cell. There were five of them in total. Two remained by his side at all times, another two behind him, weapons levelled no doubt. He had never seen the weapons, did not know what they were. He knew they were doing that because it was what he would have done.

The one in front of him punched him out of nowhere. He took the pain, retched violently and fell forward, slackening in their grip. They laughed and pulled him up again as they shoved a sack over his head. It hindered his breathing and they expected him to panic, so he did. Weakly. He didn't have the strength for more.

More laughter as they hauled him up, forcing him to his feet as they dragged him along. He heard a different kind of laughter in the distance. Sharp. Shrieking. Female. He knew who it belonged to. They had tried to numb her sixth sense as well, but she was too strong for whatever it was they drugged them with. Which was a shame. He knew most of his fellow inmates didn't deserve to be here. They were innocents, taken for void knows what reasons. But not her. She was a criminal and a horrid one at that. She had abused her powers to flail the flesh from bones, to take what she wanted, manipulate people to dance to her sadistic, sickening tune. Murder, rape, theft, drugs, she had tasted them all and found none to her liking unless taken in excessive quantities or through new, perverse ways. She deserved everything they did to her, and more.

Yet she remained stronger than him. They knew, however. She challenged the jailors and was hurt for it. Yet everything they inflicted on her just caused her to laugh more. Pain seemed to encourage her and whenever her wardens made the tiniest mistake she'd be at them, killing them, tearing them limb from limb. He had seen her do so on one occasion. She had foregone any attempt at escape and had been content to make the man boil within his armour, his flesh and bodily fluids pouring out through the few openings in a sickening soup. The smell had been horrid, his screams even worse. The sound of a human being liquifying, however? That would haunt him forever. And he had seen a lot.

He escaped to his memories as he was dragged towards the mess hall. Or was it the classroom? He didn't remember which. It didn't matter. Same thing every day. If it was a day. Hard to keep track when you were left in darkness and kept awake and in pain until sheer exhaustion claimed you. He remembered where it all went wrong. The mission to Black Site Alpha, as their commander had called it. He had been part of a mercenary company. Delta Goons. A stupid name if he ever heard any. He would have smiled at the memory except his lips were swollen and chunks of dried blood glued them together.

They had been called in, along with a myriad of other mercenary companies, to go after an abandoned Imperial laboratory. Honestly, he should have seen it coming after one of their heavy hitters, a tall bloke who everyone named soldier X, quit after hearing about it. X had been an amazing man, even if he had personally never gotten along well with the bloke. One time the captain had told him and the squad he was part of to hold off a flank, just before a counterattack hit that saw them retreating all the way back to their HQ. By the time any measure of control had been regained and a counterstrike of their own was being planned had they remembered that they still had a squad that hadn't reported in.

The captain had tried contacting it, more for the sake of it rather than believing they were still standing. To everyone's surprise the squad replied after a while, having to get through the jamming first. When the massed counterstrike finally broke the enemy lines and they reached them, they found an abattoir. Dozens of soldiers had tried to assault the squad, who had withered the storm with impossible defiance. Rather than fall back, an order they had never received, they had simply said 'fuck you' to the enemy advance and stopped it dead in its tracks. Literally. They had arrived just in time to witness X handle a trio of snipers that had lain in wait for the squad to show their heads. The moment they poked theirs out, however, X piled covering fire on them before a trio of mortar rounds took care of the final resistance.

Man, that guy had been one hell of a soldier. In hindsight they should have done the same thing X had done. The offer had come in, the captain had relayed it to the Goons and like one unit they had cheered at the impossibly high reward for assaulting the facility. They were going in with other units with a solid reputation, a massed force over three thousand strong. Heavy infantry, power armour, mortars, hell, they even brought in tanks and similarly heavy-duty vehicles. Then X had put a bit of a damper on the mood by simply going 'no'. The captain had done his best, promised him a bigger part of the share, but X had been immovable. Even now he remembered his words.

'If you accept this mission, you will all die.'

Well. The bloke was right. The station was nothing but a death trap. Landing on the thing should have been a hint. They triggered some sort of defensive response from the facility and a good portion of their shuttles was blown out of the void before they even managed to land. The three ships they had come in on weren't off any better and they discovered that several anti-ship laser batteries were still very operational when rapid bursts burned through the shields and hull respectively. Three thousand odd men had launched the assault. Slightly more than two thousand had landed. That was day one.

By day two they discovered that the facility was still very bloody active as security robots of all sorts and sizes played the tactics game very well. Losses would have been high enough against them, but occasionally an entire platoon would disappear off the radar as they were pushed into a non secure passageway. Then the gravity would switch sides and within seconds it would be ramped up from comfortable to 'puree'. That was a one trick pony though. The blood oozing from the mangled corpses gave away which hallways weren't secured pretty well. Then there was the decompression, hidden turrets, mines inside a voids damned space station and another assortment of trickery that saw their numbers further reduced. By the time day two was done they were down another five hundred, but they were learning quickly and the officers still pressed the assault, fully knowing there was no way back.

Day three was much of the same and so was day four, except losses were significantly lighter as they began to wizen up to the stations tricks. The troops were getting optimistic, and so was he. He had been lucky. His ability as squadleader, further enhanced by his sixth sense, had made him invaluable and simultaneously saw him and his few Goons altered on and off the front lines more frequently. He had been way back when the station revealed the army it had been building on the fifth day.

Towering robots with heavy flamers, machine guns, laser gatlings, repulsor carbines, gravitic launchers and a whole assortment of toys that specialised in dealing death and destruction thundered through hallways previously thought secure. Rocket launchers were brought to bear and the men wielding them were mowed down before they got a shot off. Mines and boobytraps were mildly more successful, but if one bot went down another simply took its place. By the time the fifth day ended they were down to six hundred men and the attacks didn't stop at nightfall.

Despite the heavy losses the forces were still making progress towards their objective, which was salvaging as much as possible. Damaged parts of the advanced robots were dragged to their makeshift base. Databases were salvaged, translated and their information compiled. At one point during his mandatory relaxation hours, something the captain, who was missing an arm at that point, was still enforcing in order to try and give the Goons some form of morale boost, he had started reading it.

He hadn't liked what he found. According to these logs the Empire hadn't been the bad guys history made them out to be. Kra'lagh, betrayals, desperate defensive battles and trying to outgenocide a monstrous foe while the Empire was crumbling internally, it quite changed the aspect of history. To him it was more simple. The Empire had been betrayed. As a soldier, he could sympathise with them. Treason was an ugly thing.

He had pocketed the datachip, hoping against hope that he'd be able to bring the truth to light, something so many had died for.

The miracle arrived halfway during the sixth day. Someone out there had clearly grown worried that the active station would end up in a repeat disaster of what had happened the last time an Imperial facility had fully activated its defence protocols. Rather than give the SI the time to build up its forces, a vast fleet had arrived with the intent to simply pound it all into dust.

Through a minor miracle they made contact with the heavily embattled mercs and rather than blast the entire thing into the void, they kept a tiny part of it intact and the survivors were transferred to a massive dreadnaught, where they were interrogated and kept in quarantine. Given the Empire's history with apocalyptic biological weaponry, he had understood the precaution.

Then he had made the mistake of telling everyone about the datachip. How the automated logs, made by a computer so therefore virtually impossible to alter or falsify, showed that history was utterly wrong and that a massive bug nation had brought the Empire on its knees. And that, surprise surprise , the bad guys hadn't started the galactic shitshow and that the bugs weren't quite dead yet.

One hundred and twelve mercenaries had entered the dreadnaught. Only he made it out. The others had been coldly executed and by now he knew that the only reason he was still alive was because of his sixth sense. They had brought him here, to wherever here was and he was surrounded by others like him. Numbed. Re-educated. They intended to mould him into a shape of their choosing, but they weren't getting very far. Sure, many of the folks here broke and were transferred to void knows where, but he had begun to recognise some of his fellow captives. There were well over three dozen that he could reliably distinguish by now. People like him. Seemingly defeated but still clinging to their sanity with stubborn determination.

He was pulled out of his memories, the one safe place left to him, by several violent punches to his stomach. He knew better than to try to resist, it would only get him beaten again. Beaten more, he corrected himself. He focused on how their hands felt, how their armoured gauntlets ruptured his skin and worsened the wounds he already had there. He heard the woman laughing again, much closer this time. Muffled, but no less frightening to hear. They left his cuffs on, so it would be another class.

He felt numb, the pain suddenly being far away and knew that they had brought one of their own bastards with a sixth sense to teach again. That was how it went. They left the sack on his head and one particularly sadistic guard fondled his groin before squeezing his gauntlet shut. He howled in agony, the numbing insufficient to shield him from such a blast. He collapsed to the ground, convulsing, tears streaking down his face. Part of him wanted to give in, to just let it all happen. To accept what they tried to drill into his head. To be a good little puppet. To be let out of here, to be free.

He sucked in air as they hauled him back to his feet, shoving him into a chair and giving him another few punches to make him shut up and his determination snapped back in place.

No, he thought. He wouldn't give up. He wouldn't break. One way or another he'd get out of here and kill these bastards. With his bare hands if he had to, or with his psionic abilities if he could. He had always used his sixth sense to defend himself, for party tricks or for leading his squad, but for his jailors he'd make an exception. Not quite the way his mother had raised him, voids bless her soul, but then again he doubted the poor woman would mind given what these bastards did to her baby boy.

The numbing grew worse and the pressure started piling up. He knew the mantra by now. The Empire was bad. That was it, really. They also tried to subtly erase his memory of the datachip, but he was used to splitting his sixth sense over a dozen tasks. Even with his abilities numbed to the voids he could still easily shrug off the mental attacks. Subtly, of course. He was hurting, but he had become tough as nails in the Delta Goons, and he could take plenty more before he'd even approach his breaking point. He would break free. He would see the stars again. And he would see this place burn to the ground. Even if it would cost him his life, he promised that to himself, over and over again.

He shrunk under an especially harsh mental attack, not because he had to but because it was expected. From close by the laughter resounded, followed by the all too familiar sound of armoured gauntlet hitting flesh. The laughter grew louder and so did the beating. Then something else, something that wasn't supposed to happen. A loud shriek and metal being crunched. He felt little things he couldn't immediately identify hit him, just before the smell caught up and he realised it was a mixture of blood and oil. His captors shouted and screamed and he was roughly jostled out of the way as they piled on the offender, who went down under a pile of guards still letting out that haunting laugh.

He amended his own promise and added a minor clausule for the insane woman in his proximity. He'd kill her too. No way was he going to risk letting that abomination loose on the world. She was a walking disaster, a monster who amused herself by whispering her achievements to her cellmates. As if the torture wasn't enough. She relished in the atrocities she had committed. She had been going through life using her incredible sixth sense to do as she pleased without anyone being able to go against her. She was smart enough to get away with it too, until she had run into the same unit that had locked him away. He didn't know anything about his other cellmates, but given that they were all in the same class listening to the same mantra, he assumed they were psionics as well. For some reason they were gathering up people with a sixth sense and brainwashed them to believe the Empire was bad and then kicked them out once that was accomplished. For what purpose? He had no idea. He did fear the day that the woman would break, however. His captors didn't care for the crimes she committed, just that she believed what they wanted her to believe.

He was quite sure he didn't have to worry about it though. She had killed twelve of them so far. Her ability was so absurdly powerful that even with the heavy drugging it couldn't be supressed continuously and she often faked weakness just to strike at them. They got back at her, sure. Torture, rape, damaging her body in ways he shuddered to think about… There were times when she screamed and her pain radiated through her ability, hurting all those with a sixth sense around her as she shared her pain with them. But always she would laugh after. She was mad, a psychopath and yet she was strong beyond compare. At times she had reached out to those around her. One at a time. Sometimes she didn't use her strength on a jailor, but on her fellow inmates.

She had touched him as well and he had been utterly horrified and repulsed by it. She could be gentle, absurdly so, drawing pain from his body and replacing it with tenderness, warmth and care. Only to then twist the knife later on as she fed on the raw emotions that would well up within him when she ripped it out again, leaving him with nothing but pain and desolation. Other times she simply took what she wanted, without caring how much she hurt him. Even wounded, damaged, tortured and hurt, she was a frightful creature, far more dangerous to him than the jailors were. He had learned to defend himself mentally, keep her from touching his most innermost parts and she hadn't liked that one bit. She had raged and killed two of her guards over it, before the ensuing beatdown had brought her very, very low.

He felt the mantra slide off his inner defences again as the laughter finally ended. He felt the numbness being to wear off and was made aware of how much he was hurting again. How blood was trickling down from his numerous wounds. How he was tired, desperate for sleep, how every part of him hurt.

The jailors grabbed him again and began hauling him back to his cell. He was glad for it. Soon he'd be rid of that void damned sack and he could at least breathe freely again.

As they locked him back into the chains and gave him a few more punches for good measure, he let himself hang down from them, his muscles screaming in raw exhaustion and pain as they were pulled taut. He ignored them and focused his mind, locking off the parts of him that hurt and willed himself to sleep.

He had a mantra of his own. He was beaten, but not broken. Captured, but not defeated. Wounded, but not disabled. Dying, but not dead. He pictured the faces of the Delta Goons. His friends, brothers, comrades in arms. His wife. His daughter. They had survived the horrors of the Imperial station only to be crudely murdered by the very people supposedly come to save them.

He did not feel the burning tears streaking down his face, mingling with the blood and the grime that covered him from head to toe. He did not feel the infections rotting his body from the inside out, his fractured bones and torn muscles. He couldn't feel the cold that slowly seeped into him nor the chains cutting into his flesh.

All he could feel was the burning need for vengeance.

Battlegroup Nemesis exited hyperspace with every ship ready to open fire at a moment's notice. It was the last jump before they'd hit Lufer and while they weren't low on fuel, they wouldn't have any options to reload after the battle would begin. Bringing in the logistics fleet in the midst of two large armada's clashing wasn't beneficial for their health and a handful of corvettes could easily slip past his defences and do serious damage, not to mention what a concentrated attack could do. He simply didn't have the ships to engage them in a stand up fight. Better to top off their reserves at a safe distance from their target and keep the logistical units away from the enemy.

As the ships translated back into realspace and scanners went to work, it did not surprise him in the slightest to find a small Novican task force in front of him, previously occupied with setting up early warning satellites in the freshly conquered Imperial space, currently occupied with crapping their pants after several thousands of enemies were acquiring target locks on them. Verloff just gave a small smirk and threw a thumbs up at Cindy. She had been the one to tip them off about this task force. A little warm up before the battle.

Reports of the enemies were shouted out aloud, followed by a minor torrent of fire flashing to life on the displays as his fleet evaporated the targets, hundreds of beams cutting through shields and armour alike. The only heavy ship of note, an enemy battleship, simply had no way of defending itself against the massed barrage. His ELINT ships had started jamming them immediately after the first salvo, not that they had needed to. The Novicans had been too busy panicking to send out any emergency broadcasts. A dozen of ships destroyed with absolutely no cost to their own aside a bit of expended fuel and ammunition. It was great for morale however. And it would cut another hole in the Novican early warning system.

There was simply too much space to reliably cover with shipboard sensors, therefore any space faring nation had quickly adopted a broad screen of satellites that could open a breach in hyperspace and transmit their reports. Which did little good if the satellites were still in the process of being deployed, just as Naval Intelligence had predicted. If they had been operational, it would have availed them little. They'd have at most a few minutes warning before his fleet arrived. With no signal sent, however, his troops could take a bit more time. Less stress. Catch a final nap. The battle would be bloody enough and he didn't begrudge them a final bit of R&R.

He congratulated his officers on a job well done and went back to his tactical map. He had lost count of how many times he had done so over the past few days, looking at the display, trying to improve his strategy. He didn't find anything, not that he expected to at this point. In the end they had to go with this bold, aggressive and risky attack. If it failed it would have horrendous results. He would have to choose between crippling Nemesis beyond functionality or abandoning Angry Comet. Neither was an acceptable outcome to him, not with Icarus and Perseus hounding the Novican lines.

The two battlegroups were finally let of the leash and had begun engaging the Novicans in heavy combat, something their opponents hadn't expected at this point. Both sides were inflicting heavy losses on one another in the short and intense engagements, with the Imperials frequently carrying the day through sheer tenacity and the higher quality of crew and ship alike. They were moving in swarms, engaging on as broad a front as possible to force their numerically superior enemy to split up. A few commanders did and quickly found their task force reduced to a group of floating wrecks when the Imperials outmanoeuvred them, but far too many didn't, more out of fear than out of skill. They huddled together and hoped the Empire wouldn't come and get them. Sometimes they did regardless, which didn't end well for either side.

He sighed and motioned Cindy closer. He very much doubted she could add anything new, but he wanted her opinion regardless. Who knows? he thought. She might see something I've missed.

Grand Admiral Kolpovka ended the call with the higher ups with a vicious snarl, expelling his anger by throwing the earpiece into the ground and stomping the expensive piece of equipment into a dozen bits. He slammed his fist down on the holographic display, activating it. It showed the official borders between Imperial and Novican space, a thin grey line cutting the large section of space in two. Then there were the bright green dots that represented allied planets, as well as the dark red ones showing Imperial ones. Vice-Admiral Doneska had reported in only a day ago. She had taken her fleet, or rather, Admiral Suldren had, to assault the most forward planet.

The woman had taken over a thousand vessels in a probing attack, only to discover that when the Empire decided to turtle up they didn't skimp on the costs involved in such a project. She had been headstrong and stubborn in her assault, determined to break the planet which had been bereft of its supporting fleets and had therefore only retreated after losing half of her strike forrce for no gain what-so-ever, aside confirming that the Imperial defences were 'heavy'. By some minor miracle she had kept her dreadnaughts out of the battle.

Then, in the midst of her retreat to allied lines, she had run into one of those damnable hunter groups that the Empire was tossing out by the dozen and Admiral Suldren had met an ignoble end when she underestimated Imperial engineering and was blasted into the afterlife by the fearsome Nova Cannons. He had looked up Doneska's after action report and hadn't been terribly impressed by her tactics. She had been a political pawn promoted to her position through connections rather than her own skill. Like too many others.

Still, there had been merit to her ideas. If only the damned lords and ladies of the Parliament would listen to him! The Empire couldn't hold them off! They had only two battlegroups here and both were dwindling in strength. He estimated they had somewhere around five to nine thousand ships left, which was a large amount but insignificant to his eighty thousand.

With their borders secure the Novic Confederacy was free to move their entire focus towards the Empire. He did not know why the Parliament had decided to declare war on the Empire, but he didn't care. He relished the chance to stick it to the arrogant bastards. Always acting as if they were better than him. It was a well known fact that the Imperial military had incredible funds behind them, far more than any other nation. They invested heavily in all things related to war and that, of course, translated to a better army.

If only the idiots from the Parliament would give him appropriate funding, he would have been able to trounce the Imperials from the start rather than suffer under this blasted alliance that only served to coat the truth of subservience. At least now, with the Empire embroiled in a heavy war with the mysterious Kra'lagh, the Novic Confederacy had the chance to really drive the knife into the wound and then twist it for good measure. They had the Imperials outgunned, outnumbered, but as long as those moronic and incapable lords and ladies refused to give him complete command of the fleet he wouldn't be able to outmanoeuvre them as well! That was the one advantage the Imperials still had and they were using it well, driving up his losses without him being to properly retaliate!

All he needed was the supreme command! Then he'd be able to launch a massive strike on the Imperial lines. Sure, they'd suffer casualties. Might start with a two, or if he was generous, three to one ratio in their favour, but in the end they would completely drown the Empire through sheer force of guns. It would be costly at the start, but it was the most effective strategy. By the time the Empire would be able to reinforce themselves, if they managed to survive the Kra'lagh, then the Confederacy would be able to enter a profitable armistice where the Empire would get a taste of being the underdog.

As it was the Empire had launched a massive counterattack of their own and was inflicting heavy casualties on his forces. He was sending out orders en masse to make sure that his admirals kept their forces together. Individually and split apart the more manoeuvrable Empire would tear them apart, but kept together they lacked the firepower to take them out without suffering massive casualties of their own. Casualties he could easily afford. As it was the two attacking battlegroups would soon run into a wall of his reinforcements. He had finally received permission to send another few fleets to the front. He still had to keep far too many vessels on defensive patrols, which was an absolute waste, but he had to grit his teeth and bare with it. If he had been giving command like he had asked, the war would be over by now.

Grand Admiral Kolpovka was so confident of his inevitable victory that when alarms started wailing he was actually taken off guard. His surprise didn't last long and within a moment he was barking out orders at his subordinates, demanding to know the cause of this disruption.

'Sir! Imperial assault! We've counted over five thousand vessels jumping into the system! They're at the edge of the gravity well and resuming formations!' came the hurried but collected response. Kolpovka grinned. His men were just as professional as the Imperials claimed theirs were.

'Let them come. I'm surprised though, I didn't think they'd be able to collect that many.'

'Sir! A number of them went dark before we could get a read on them!' shouted the officer in charge of the radars. 'More than a thousand drive wakes remain visible!'

'Ah. Small support vessels. No doubt a fair share of logistics as well. Necessary to jump this far out. How risky.' He smiled. 'How arrogant. Contact Admirals Lebriski and Idrina. Tell them to prepare for a counterstrike, specific orders will follow.'

'Yes sir, orders sent. Should we inform the Parliament of this attack?' asked communications

He sighed. 'As much as I'd rather keep the cowards out of it, yes. Inform them. Just tell them that we are under attack and that more information will be forthcoming. For now, keep monitoring the situation. Send out a general request for reinforcements. Unless I'm mistaken they'll start jamming us pretty heavily real soon and they'll try and keep us from getting many signals out. We've got six thousand combat vessels at hand and given the sign of drive wakes I'd say we significantly outclass them in terms of heavier vessels. Add the defence grid to the mix and they're utterly outclassed. Still, they wouldn't have jumped in without a plan. Make sure our reinforcements wait a fair bit out system though, don't let them jump in just yet. We've got over a dozen fleets that patrol the area that we can recall within the week if the Parliament permits it. We can easily drown this assault in ships. They're a bit too much of a target to let them get away.'

He watched the Imperial fleet unfold on the display. Dreadnaughts were forming at the centres of assault formations, powerful battleships taking up positions around them, with battlecruisers and their ilk filling in the space between the juggernauts of space. There would be a smattering of smaller escort vessels surrounding those, no doubt. Hiding in their bigger cousins' drive wakes or running under stealth. The Empire loved stealth after all and probably would have started jamming them already if they didn't need to be able to see what their Novican counterparts were doing as well. Jamming worked both ways after all.

'Try and figure out where their ELINT ships are. If we take those out, this battle will be considerably easier,' he ordered. 'Look for heavier concentrations, the Empire tends to protect them well. Every one we take out will open a hole in their defences.' His experienced eyes looked over the incoming armade as it slowly approached Lufer. He wasn't worried. The defences were more than adequate and the headquarters he occupied was deep underground, with massive shield generator complexes and countless missile silos dotting the surface. The only way to attack it was to land troops far away and then fight a slow, bloody battle to get close. Which required orbital superiority. He grinned. Which they won't get.

'They are approximately six hours out from our first stations at present time. Their initial speed pushed them deep into the gravity well. They can't jump out, sir.'

'Tell me something I don't know,' Kolpovka replied absentmindedly. 'Watch them carefully. Did we get any readings on the rest of their vessels?'

'Sir, not much. Preliminary glances would lead me to think they're logistics. It's what makes the most sense as well. They had to travel a long way to get here.'

'I concur,' the Grand Admiral whispered. 'They can't be all logistical support though. There'll be plenty escorts in there. Tell Admiral Lebriski to array his force in a direct, offensive formation. Let him set up a solid wall of firepower. The Empire specialises in harassing tactics. Let's not give them a chance to split up our forces this time around. I want Admiral Idrina's to mimic Lebriski's formation'. Two walls, both with enough firepower to vanquish that fleet in a single passing. 'Dreadnaughts are the absolute priority, of course. Don't underestimate those Nova Cannons. They'll punch our own dreadnaughts to bits with a single salvo from up close.'

'Yes sir,' communications responded, furiously tapping away.

'Tell Idrina to keep her escorts to the sides of her wall. If the Empire decides to skirt Lebriski with their own escorts, especially those nasty missile boats, they'll be easy pickings. Mobility will be key for her.' He paced around the display, voicing hsi thoughts out loud. 'They'll have to switch to active target acquisition to make proper use of their missiles, so their jamming will cease at that point. Make sure there is sufficient distance between the two walls and keep the individual task forces tight. I want a solid wall of fire and anything that gets through Lebriski's wall I want shot down by Idrina's forces, preferably without friendly fire.'

'Yes sir!'

'How interesting,' he mused. 'I'm half expecting them to make a run for it. They should know they can't win. Or maybe they think they do. Arrogant bastards are probably too used to playing around with a foe that keeps dispersing. Let's give them a straight, stand up fight.'

'Sir, do you think they'll be able to punch through?' asked communications, busy filing a report for the Parliament on the side.

'Oh, I expect them to. I wouldn't be surprised if their superior ships carried them through Lebriski's wall with less losses than anticipated. It will still gut their fleet though. Easy pickings for Idrina. We have a lot more dreadnaughts and battleships and you don't hide those drive wakes easily,' he chuckled. He wasn't underestimating his foe, he knew they had jumped in with a plan. The only question was what they were up to. He wasn't afraid. He had two powerful fleets at his disposal and even more fleets were just a few days out. It would take the Imperials half a day to get close to Lufer. He was intending on holding the battle a bit further than that. Close enough to deprive them off some fuel, deep enough to cut off the invisible logistics train that he knew was going to be all but impossible to track down unless he devoted a several task forces to it.

Still, he couldn't shake a feeling of unease and decided to not take risks, even if it meant going against orders. He was done playing cowed lackey to the Parliament. It was time for warriors to lead the battle.

'What fleet is the closest?' he demanded, looking at his tactics officer.

'Sir, Admiral Senova is six days out. Birkov is seven.'

'Current fleet strength?'

'Five and a half and six thousand ship by last count, sir.'

'Another eleven thousand?' he chuckled darkly. 'Send a transmission to both of them and tell them to move their fleets in position behind the enemy. We'll have them jump in when they retreat, or should we need reinforcements.'

He turned to the display and waited for the orders to be sent out.

'Sir,' reported communications, hesistantly. 'The Parliament didn't permit you to—'

'Send the damned orders!' he roared. 'I'm all too aware that the cowards in the Parliament want to keep as many ships in between our borders and their precious paradise planets. And so are our Imperial adversaries, no doubt. And I don't plan to play by their rules!' He waited for a moment to make sure that communications sent the orders, then continued. 'Tell Lebriski and Idrina to move at a slow pace. I want the Imperials intercepted two hours out from the planet.'

'Our orbital defences can't cover them from that far, sir,' the officer in charge of orbital command hesitantly reported.

'I know,' Kolpovka replied, grinning. 'The Imperials aren't the only ones who know how to set a trap.' He gave his men a confident smile, but inwardly he fumed. His men were good and loyal, but they lacked vision. Lacked guts. He knew from his scores and his experience that he was a genius, an unrivalled fleet commander in all of the Confederacy. He was confident, but not cocky. He was planning his strategy carefully. The battle would take a good while. The two forces would likely dance around one another, trying to inflict heavy casualties without closing overmuch. He doubted the Imperials would simply ram his wall head on. They were more likely to retreat just before the two forces confronted one another head on and would then proceed skirting around the edges while using their superior manoeuvrability. He would let that happen, grind them down bit by bit, feeding them his own ships, before suddenly surrounding them with another eleven thousand ships. The weary Imperials would be slaughtered, unless they began to retreat well before that.

He didn't dismiss the option that this might be a simple, but very expensive feint. They knew the politics of his nation well enough and it wasn't exactly a secret that the Parliament consisted out of a bunch of cowards. They kept too many vessels on the defence, were constantly slowing down their advance and kept giving the Empire time to reinforce, which was the worst strategy they could have implemented. This attack would capitalise on that hesitation, frightening the feeble lords and ladies even more. The stupid sheep. Politics and military strategy should never mix.

He envied the Empire for that. At least they had free reign in making their strategies, which made them all the more dangerous. Yet, things were what they were and he would have to play according to the rules that were set. So he'd need to crush this advance, not let them escape battered and weak. He had to draw them in and utterly annihilate them to show the Parliament that they could easily end this war if they would just stop holding their forces back against imagined counter attacks. Space was too vast to stop an infiltrating fleet from slipping across and while they were pumping out early warning satellites by the dozens each day, they'd need thousands to properly safeguard the border. It was so much easier to pin the Imperial fleets down to their planets, surround them in massive blockades, before grinding them to dust in one single, overwhelming assault.

They didn't understand that the Empire couldn't spare the ships for a counterattack. All they had to do was press the attack and they'd be forced to retreat, defend their own worlds, because the Empire didn't abandon their own.

He sighed in frustration. In terms of military ability he envied his opponents. He was so limited, kept on a leash. The Empire didn't have that restriction and their military, when provoked, was a genuine monster. Without the Kra'lagh invasion, he'd have been dead twice over and he knew it. The Novic Confederacy couldn't stand up to the galactic, turtling juggernaut. Reinforcing battlegroups would have arrived by the dozen and his HQ would have been a smoking crater at this point, had their reserves not been tied.

With that in mind, the Confederacy had broken their alliance and declared war and he would use everything at his disposal to bring this conflict a good end. To that end, this battle would be decisive. If he destroyed that fleet then this conflict would be over. He suspected his opponents knew that as well. No doubt they had tricks of their own at the ready.

He leaned back and pulled out one of his rare cigars, very expensive and imported from Earth shortly before war had been declared. He doubted he'd be able to refresh his stock anytime soon. He twirled it around in his hands for a few moments, considering the moment carefully, before slicing off the tip and lighting it. He inhaled the thick, unhealthy smoke and puffed it out, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the sensation.

He looked forward to the battle.

'He is not exactly incompetent, you know? asked Cindy, outwardly looking calm and collected but her youth and inexperience with naval battles, not to mention the situation itself, was making her scream on the inside.

'Oh, I hope not,' laughed Verloff, fully in his element as he gave orders by the dozens with simple taps on the display. Task forces shifted course, ships took up new positions as his fleet approached Lufer. His eyes danced with light, taking in the enemy formations as he opened up estimated fleet strengths, commander profiles, fleet composition and warship schematics. 'If he were to be incompetent it would actually throw a pretty solid wrench in my plans.'

Cindy was impressed at the sheer amount of tasks the leader of Nemesis was taking on simultaneously. She was no stranger to multi-tasking but this man was going through dozens of screens at a time, constantly giving out orders and still keeping up a casual conversation with her. 'You remember that they have thousands of ships a few days out?' she asked, unable to keep a bit of trepidation out of her voice. She cursed herself for that, she had an image of perfect coolness to keep up.

'Worried about being outnumbered even more?' Verloff asked, for once not homing in on her moment of weakness. 'That's good. Even I'm scared to the point I'm nearly shitting myself. Kola sent out a call for reinforcements so within five days at worst before several more thousand ships pop up on our radars. Not something I look forward to.'

'What?' asked Cindy, her eyes widening in alarm. 'Those fleets were supposed to be locked down by the Novican Parliament.'

'And Kola ignored that. Like you said, he's competent. He knows we came here with a plan and he's not taking risks.'

'Did you manage to jam the signal then?' she asked, not understanding why Verloff remained so calm.

'With this much space and so little ships? Dream on girl,' he said, letting out a barking laugh that reverberated through the metal floor. 'But that's alright. That's part of my plan.'

'I thought your plan was a—'

'Lightning offensive were our manoeuvrability carries the day so we can bombard the crap out Lufer and their HQ with my shiny ships, then break off before they can fully engage us? Sounds good in theory, doesn't work in practise. That entire plan was a lie.'

Cindy's mouth fell wide open. 'You lied to us?'

'No. I lied to the generals and I lied to you. My officers already knew the plan. The briefing was just for show. I'm a bit paranoid, you see. Something you're no doubt familiar with. I don't trust the ground pounders to keep their lips sealed.' He gritted his teeth. He was going to lose a lot of men, but the Empire didn't have a choice. Lufer had to fall and Kolpvoka had to die. The man had the strategic know-how to crush the forces on the border and only politics had prevented him from simply running Icarus and Perseus in the ground. Brute force was an awfully effective tactic when used at the right moment.

'What about that lieutenant?' she asked, a suspicion forming in her head.

Verloff put his head in his hands and leaned lazily on the table. 'He knows the full plan. I know his full plan. Well, as far as he has a plan. Crazy bastard that he is.'

That didn't reassure her in the slightest. Genesis was Eisel's toy. If Verloff had such easy access to a crack battalion of ground troops then it boded very ill for the future. Verloff's loyalty to the Empire wasn't in doubt, but he could be played for a fool. Unlikely, but Naval Intelligence was about capability rather than intent. 'What do you mean?' she asked, shoving down her worry and focusing on acquiring more information.

'He wants me to get his troops planet-side, that's all he wanted.' Verloff shrugged. 'Do you want to know his exact words when I asked him how he was going to complete the mission?'

Cindy threw him an angry glare in response.

'Guess not then,' he laughed. 'Onto the matter at hand. Two fleets approaching us, standard wall formation. He's going to smother us in firepower. They're not in place yet, but soon will be, it takes a while to pull that many ships together. Two times three thousand with a few hundred lighter escorts staying behind to provide point defence cover for the orbital stations. I wonder what the formation behind the first wall is, though. I don't have line of sight on it and I can't really spot the drive wakes from behind the first wall. Who leads the fleets?'

'Admiral Lebriski is in charge of the first wall. Admiral Idrina leads the second,' responded a secondary communications officer, the man in charge of intercepting enemy communications. The Empire loved playing the intelligence game even more than they enjoyed training their troops to the most aliens scenarios imaginable.

'Lebriski? That rings a bell. Do we have anything on him?'

'He led the third wave against Perseus, just as they retreated. He lost a few ships to missiles and mines without doing any damage and he's been reported as a very aggressive, but uncreative commander.'

'Oh joy. So he'll bring all that firepower right to my doorstep and just shoot straight through the wall then. With the other one… I think I know what they're up to.'

'Sir?' came electronics warfare, something the Empire found important enough to assign a dozen officers to on average. Verloff, an old veteran, disagreed with the level of importance the Empire had placed on them, something he was very vocal about. The officer commanding that station had three times that number of men at his command.

'Not yet,' the Admiral cautioned. 'Make sure our corvettes are in position. They're not visible, right?'

'Hiding in our wake as ordered.'

'Good. Are our frigates still with our friends in the back?'

'They're slowly coasting up and down in their respective groups and getting in position.'

'Excellent!' He let out a predatory laugh and Cindy felt chills running down her spine. This was a side of the Admiral that rarely appeared outside of a full on war. Verloff was seen as an unrivalled genius of naval warfare, someone who managed to balance taking utter delight in his work whilst deeply mourning the losses he took. He loved the battle and hated the cost in equal measure, making him a frightfully effective commander. Kolpovka was seen as a similar threat, except much less caring about the losses he took, making him more aggressive but no less efficient at that. Both were seen as the best of their generation, unparalleled masters of their craft, but Kolpovka held, as far as she knew, all the advantages here. Boths armadas were slowly approaching one another, each confident in victory. She only prayed that Nemesis would come out on top.

'I'll tell you one thing,' Verloff said, interrupting her thoughts. 'In terms of firepower, ships, positioning, we don't stand a chance against them. In any sort of straight up fight they'll wipe us out, tactics be damned. I cannot take that fleet head on without taking crippling losses. Any tactician can see that.'

Cindy eyed the broadly grinning Admiral warily. She remembered his psych profile, could easily recall how he had made fun of her and tried to get her to lose her cool at every opportunity. He was up to something, toying with her. Then it suddenly made sense to her. She had no idea what he was going to do tactically, but for the first time since she met the man she could predict what he was about to say.

'You're going to take them head on, aren't you?'

The grin he gave her was feral, bloodthirsty, far beyond vicious and told her that this was exactly what he was going to do.

Onoelle woke up feeling refreshed. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and wasn't surprised to find her husband's hands softly massaging her body. The first time she had woken up to it, it had taken her tremendously off guard, finding it slightly invasive. They hadn't been married then. Now, a long time after that first time, it was a common thing to wake up to, something she was immensely grateful for. He slept significantly less than her and when she had asked him if he wasn't bothered by that he had answered, quite simply, that he was perfectly happy just laying next to her and watching her, listening to her breathe. It had made her feel like a human teddy bear, warding off his bad dreams. It was an endearing thought to her. One of the few things she could do for him.

In turn he repaid the favour by softly massaging her body, doing it so gently that she didn't even wake up during it. Part of her was sad that he didn't do so when she was awake, but she didn't complain. Her body needed it. Living with a supersoldier was physically demanding, even if he was trying to behave like a civilian. She was often bruised, physically exhausted, occasionally stressed. His magic touch did much to alleviate that pain, made her muscles relax and made her sleep deeper, more healing. Originally it hadn't been an act that held any deeper meaning for him, it was a logical action to take. It sped up healing, it was beneficial, therefore it was done.

Now he was less efficient at it, focusing more on how she received it. There were times when she had woken up and simply luxuriated in the feeling of him softly caressing her body. Occasionally it ended up being something more, when she drew his fingers to other places and his touch became more insistent, but regardless of with what intent he touched her, she had never complained and it had become one of the many comforting constants of their relationships.

She stretched her limbs, slowly, languidly, enjoying how his hands moved with her and his gentle fingers danced teasingly across her skin. She turned around, shivered when his touch ran down along her spine in that delightful way and she let out a soft, deep sigh of happiness. Then she planted her lips on his neck, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him closer towards her. Not that she actually got him to move, but as always he reacted instantly to her wishes and he was on top of her, exuding a pleasant amount of pressure on her. She enjoyed having him on top of her. His weight was reassuring and she delighted in letting her hands wander freely across his body. In a strange way it made her feel as if he was hers.

She opened her mouth more and she went from kissing his neck to biting it. She didn't have to hold back given how tough he was, and there were times when she gave word to her lust that way, but not now. This was a lazy morning and she was still far too bruised to start anything. Given the conversation they had yesterday, she doubted he would start anything either. But she had been mistaken about such things before. She wouldn't mind terribly.

'You smell of me,' he whispered in her ear and she bit slightly harder in response, clinging just that bit more tightly to him.

'I like smelling of you,' she replied. 'I think you do as well.' She angled her head upwards and bit the side of his neck short and hard. He got back at her a moment later, running his tongue across just the right line on her neck and utterly paralysing her as she gasped for breath. He took his time and as the sensations spread further down her body she spasmed and twitched underneath him, dimly aware of his fingers doing other impossibly delightful things on her sides. By the time he retreated she had forgotten all about her bruises.

'What about the hunting?' she whispered breathlessly.

'You woke up early enough,' he replied, moving is lips to her ear. Then he pulled back, breaking the spell he had cast on her somewhat. She looked at him, confused about the hesitation that she saw in his inhuman eyes, then recalled the conversation of the day before. She considered her response for a while. She could argue that this wasn't him overriding her own desires and that their wants lined up perfectly. That they were both people who very much relied on physical touch to communicate and that he was not doing anything wrong. That he could ease his worries and just embrace her, that he needn't second guess himself and that she wasn't going to complain or feel bad about it afterwards.

But that was far too much work so she just threw her arms around his head and kissed him long and deep.

She was terribly surprised when he suddenly broke off their play of passion with alarming speed, veering upright and being halfway out of the sleeping bag before he relaxed again, only to grow tense the next moment again.

'What—' she began, only to be cut off by his immediate reply.

'Cassy is coming. Apparently she did not want to wait.'

Onoelle's first instinct was to panic, worrying that something had happened to Jane. Mentuc was still tense and that never bode well.

Her ever attentive husband noticed her unease and shook his head, dispelling her worries. 'She is not panicked. She smells of earth and green, so she took the time to camouflage herself,' he elaborated.

She frowned. 'Then why do you look as if you're about to bolt?'

'I am naked,' he replied. 'I am not allowed to be naked around others.'

Onoelle stare at her husband for a while, dumbfounded. 'Then why aren't you getting dressed?' she asked, knowing it was fully within his abilities to get dressed in seconds.

'I am also not allowed to be dressed when I share a tent with you,' he reminded her.

She looked at him, mouth agape, her mind slowly translating the words as genuinely conflicting orders for him, which lay at the source of his unease, then burst out laughing and cuffed him on the head. 'Get dressed you oaf!'

A short while later Mentuc departed the tent to intercept Cassy before she got too close while Onoelle got dressed at a much slower pace. She smirked to herself when she realised that he had been correct. There hadn't really been many mornings when she didn't woke up smelling of sweat. One way or another. Just a she pulled a shirt over her head a sharp scream tore itself through the otherwise silent morning sky and her smirk turned into a full on grin. Mentuc was probably never going to drop his subconscious habit of sneaking up on people.

She crawled out of the tent and wasn't really surprised to find her younger sister sitting atop the shoulders of her husband, anger and eagerness warring on her face as she messed up his short hair with her fists, a minor vengeance. Then she realised that her sister was thoroughly coated in mud, grass and leaves and her smile withered away when she realised just how they were going to mask their smell.

As the morning light started breaking through the morning clouds the trio of mud-caked humans made their way through the trees and down the mountains back to the house. Cassy was walking for a change, rather than atop her usual ride, courtesy of the large stag that occupied the spot. The large animal had come a bit too close to them and had made the mistake of threatening Onoelle and her sister. Mentuc had met the charge dead on and broke its neck in the process. Cassy had been screaming at that, first in fear at the charge, then in excitement as Mentuc simply grasped the antlers and stopped the animal's charge in its tracks, then in a bit of fear when the animal's momentum mixed with Mentuc's sharp movements caused a tremendously loud crack before the beast sagged down, dead. Onoelle's eyes had gone wide, but she had remained in control of herself. She had trusted her husband to deal with the danger and to her it was quite logical that the animal wasn't going to survive the encounter anyway. Jane's reaction was going to be bad, though. Then he had made her slightly sick by ripping the artery in the neck open and holding the animal upside down. She understood why, she was familiar with the basics of hunting and butchery, but that didn't make it any less unsettling to see the blood gush out of the wound.

Cassy all but banged open the door, further damaging it, and announced with pride that the brave hunters had returned with their prize. Onoelle ordered her husband with a curt nod to the back of the building, where he put down he dead stag. She dipped into the house, greeted her friend, reluctantly abstained from giving her a big, muddy hug and then went out again, bringing her husband a broad selection of knives. Cassy, who had spotted them, was bouncing around them both. The girl looked queasy, knowing what was coming, but that didn't deter her. Poking Mentuc for questions, she failed to notice Jane sneaking glances out of the back door at them, retreating very quickly when Mentuc began his lesson in anatomy as he cut the animal open.

Onoelle started cleaning the meat before putting it in the fridge while Mentuc began making breakfast, the two of them shooing Cassy into the shower first. By the time the girl was done the scent of freshly grilled deer meat was permeating through the house and even Jane was looking hungrily at it, despite her earlier misgivings. By the time Onoelle was done refreshing herself, the bread had finished baking and she immediately took Mentuc's place at the stove while Cassy began setting the table. He was in and out of the shower in record time and the four of them sat together for a hearty meal.

Conversation was light hearted with Cassy pestering Mentuc, freeing up Onoelle to talk to Jane. The woman didn't say much, but she did manage to lure a positive comment about the food from her and given how Jane still radiated fear and hate for her husband, she considered that a solid success. It didn't last long and as soon as she finished her plate, Jane made a quick retreat to her corner, Onoelle eyeing her friend's departure with worry. She still didn't grasp how Jane could hate Mentuc to such an extent. It made no sense, even if he was effectively imprisoning her. The hate felt off to her. As if it was an unnatural thing. Still, the atmosphere remained reasonably peaceful.

Then Cassy loudly asked if Mentuc was going to teach them to fight today as well.

By the time Onoelle had managed to shoo both her sister and her husband out of the door, had given more fruitless reassurance to Jane that she was fine and they had finally reached the construction site, it was nearly noon. Later than Onoelle had wanted to start, but Mentuc seemed fine with it and she deferred to his expertise. All too soon she found herself covered in dirt and grime once more as she aided her tireless husband as he prepared more rebar, drilled holes and used his inhuman strength to simply shove the metal bars into them. He juggled heavy plates, that would contain the concrete, around with ease, placed the load bearing supports and let Cassy and Onoelle climb on and over him to screw everything in place.

Time flew by as they worked. The concrete was poured down the pillars and Mentuc taught and explained away as the three made their way from task to task, chore to chore. Pipes were placed, wires were pulled, floors were lightly angled so water would run straight towards the drainage points. He even managed to teach Cassy a fair bit of mathematics as he drew the necessary calculations on the dirt.

Onoelle took a short break and sat down at the trunk of a large oak, leaning heavily against it. Even with Mentuc having tended to her bruises, she was still no match for Cassy and her boundless enthusiasm. She didn't make the mistake of comparing herself with her husband. She drank greedily from a nearby bottle of water as he watched her husband guide Cassy through the basics of welding. She idly wondered if this is how they would look like if they managed to have a child of their own. Her own age was pulling at her and her mother's comments worsened it. She was still young, but if Mentuc really was infertile as she feared… She didn't hold it against him, but she knew that if it kept up it would begin to haunt her. She desperately wanted to start a family and seeing him behave like that around Cassy made her dream. He'd be a good father.

A secondary concern that plagued her in regards to the specific biology of her husband was that he aged vastly different than her. He was already significantly older than her, but didn't show it. She was likely going to turn old and grey before him and that was something that worried her. She knew that living with him would keep her young and that Nightmare's on board medical suite could and would fix virtually any ailment that could befall her, but she'd age and become ugly while he would stay his handsome self. She hadn't brought it up with him. He was highly protective of hers and the lengths he'd go to in order to keep her safe and with him were… She was quite sure there wasn't an upper limit on those. She didn't lie to herself about what he was. When he panicked he fell back on who he was. A Genesis supersoldier who had killed more people than she could realistically imagine. If she told him, he would panic. Not in the human way, but in his way. And given Nightmare's general disposition towards sentient life in general… No, that was a topic best not breached until way later. If the damn AI wasn't already aware of it. Nightmare had a frightening amount of insight into her psyche, far more than she was comfortable with. Given that the AI hadn't informed Mentuc of this, she believed her own hypothesis, namely that her adoring husband would gp flying off the rails, was a correct one.

At the same time the knowledge that she could not get pregnant was a blessing in disguise. She assumed that any child of Mentuc would at least partially inherit is biology. The consequences of raising a child like that were worrying. The sheer weight of the child would already be able to damage her severely. The amount of nutrition that it would require was another major and possibly lethal obstacle. Raising such a child was going to be another monumental challenge. If it inherited even a fraction of her husband's inhuman strength, breastfeeding it and cuddling with it could injure or kill her. A baby's reflex to grab hold of whatever it could was adorable in a human baby, but a true threat for one with Mentuc's abilities. If she survived the early stages of motherhood then there still were plenty of practical and moral issues left. A temper tantrum wouldn't be just an annoyance in that case.

Still, she wanted a child and she could explain her desires with a multitude of reasons. A physical token of their love and marriage. A further way to tie him to her. Her own hormones acting up. Because she thought it would be good for him. That he'd be a great father, if his behaviour around Cassy was any indication. She briefly entertained the thought of a sperm donor and immediately tore it apart and incinerated the remains. Then blew up the whole thing for good measure. He would understand, accept it even, but to carry life that didn't originate from both of them? Never.

She was so lost in thought that it took her a long while to notice that her husband was kneeling in front of her, his lenses darting around in his eyes as they always did. She gave him a broad smile and pulled him in for a deep kiss. She loved him. Deeply and truly. It wasn't an ideal relation and there were countless of strange bumps in it, but it was theirs. She threw her arms around him and she was pleasantly surprised when he fell down all over her, his larger body covering hers and she enjoyed a long and passionate kiss with him. It made her indescribably happy. There was something about hugging him like that, something that defied explanations, that made her feel so perfectly complete.

She didn't want to break out of the warm embrace. She was happy, encapsulated by his touch and reassured by his presence. Her problems, thoughts, worries, all fell by the wayside and melted into nothingness as he held her and she held him. Then she felt him shift slightly and she clung more tightly to him, not wanting him to end it yet. She absentmindedly wondered if babies felt that way in the womb, this perfect state of calm bliss. Yet to an end it came when he pulled back, a rare, broad smile on his face. She opened her arms again, tried to lure him back towards her, but he softly shook his head and she pouted. She was allowed to act silly around him, something she could only be around a select few people. Then he raised the earpiece and it felt like someone had emptied a bucket of ice-water over her. She reached out to accept it, cursing herself for how much she trembled, Mentuc's warm gaze only mildly reassuring her.

'Yes?' she asked, fearful of what Nightmare had to say.

Hello, Onoelle, came the surprisingly gentle voice, which only served to put her more on edge.

'Hello,' she returned.

I have a question for you. A gift, you might even call it. Although calling it a Golden Apple might be more appropriate.

Onoelle racked her brain to remember what Nightmare's reference meant. Her eyes went wide as she recalled it. 'What is it?'

I have gone through my memories and compiled a bit of a movie. It is not the exact footage as I touched it up a bit to make it more appetising to watch. Edited out the most gruesome bits of gore, altered some voices. I did not touch the facts, however. That I left unchanged.

'What did you do?' Onoelle asked, her curiosity piqued, both by the AI's words as well as by her strangely polite behaviour.

Jane has been looking up a lot about the war, Nightmare continued, dodging the question. It is a commendable initiative and her searches are accurate. She choses her keywords with great care, but she does not find a lot. I cannot access the archives she watches directly, but I know that her continued lack of success is troubling her. The Kra'lagh were a dead end and she has begun expanding her search. She still wishes to convince you that the Empire was pure evil, you know?

'Are you telling me they were not?' countered Onoelle.

I am still Genesis at heart. I would kill the galaxy if he asked, without hesitation, without a shred of guilt. I do not do morals.

'You have emotions now. And access to the datanet. Humour me,' she asked, politely as well, despite her unease.

Nightmare chuckled. The Empire killed what you would classify as innocents. Millions of them directly, billions indirectly. The Kra'lagh killed billions directly. The Empire killed to survive. The Kra'lagh? If they had not gone to war with the Empire, the Empire would not have fought them. That I can guarantee. Of course, that is the military. The entirety of the Empire?

That was a new topic, one Onoelle wasn't familiar with. The Empire and its military were always seen as the same.

Yes. The Empire did many horrible things. Evil things. But enough to warrant brutally and publicly murdering anyone who was related to them centuries after the fact? I think you know my answer on that.

Onoelle nodded and looked at Mentuc, stroking his cheek with her hand, comforted by his presence. 'So what is this about then?'

At this point Jane's knowledge about the war between the Novic Confederacy and the Empire is impressively large. She gathered a lot of information about it, even a fair bit about operation Angry Comet. She thinks she knows a lot about it, but she is a civilian so I laugh that ridiculous notion out the window. Still, she has gathered a lot of information, as I said.

'Yes? What is your point?' asked Onoelle, genuinely curious now, both by what the AI had said and the way she had said it. There was warmth in her voice and a complete lack of hostility that alarmed her.

My point is that I have made a gift. I have put together a movie of our assault on Lufer, on the headquarters. You can tell her it came from a friend, if you'd like. She will probably freak out at the start, believing you caught up in some kind of pro-Imperial extremist group. In the end, after her initial freak out, she will watch it. I suggest you do as well. It will not give you my namesake. The AI giggled at that, a very unnatural sound when you realised it was emitted by a centuries old being who had only been female in the most abstract definition of the word.

It will, however, give you more insight into Mentuc. That battle was the first time he was in command. With everything that entails. It does not hide the truth, does not blemish it. You will see the assault as it happened. It is a long movie, but I believe the two of you could benefit by watching it, albeit for different reasons.

It sounded good. Mentuc's past was still much of a mystery to her and seeing the truth from a front line perspective would further force Jane towards accepting that her current view was skewed. Just as how her friend was searching for facts to convince her. It still sounded too good to be true. Even more so because Nightmare had called it a poisoned gift from the start.

'Why?' she asked.

Because Jane finding out the truth is beneficial to me. I want to launch counter-waves. More than that I will not say. For you, because it will help heal him. The more you understand him… The AI trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence.

'That is not what I meant,' she repeated. Nightmare knew what she wanted to know. The AI was never polite or friendly with her. There was always hostility, a threat, jabs.

A loud sigh rang through the earpiece, sounding much akin to sandpaper being dragged across a blackboard. Because I remember a time when he held me like that, came the surprising answer. There was an open, vulnerable honest to Nightmare's voice, her words laden with emotion that the artificial being struggled to suppress.

Just before I died.