And the battle's just begun

There's many lost, but tell me who has won?

The trench is dug within our hearts

And mothers, children, brothers, sisters torn apart

U2 - “Sunday Bloody Sunday”

“So, you don’t have any idea where the Khonhim fleet is heading?” Marshal Antuma asked the woman on the monitor.

“None,” Admiral Fujimoto replied. “I left a handful of scout boats in system when they chased me out, but they forced them to withdraw. All I have is a general direction they used for their departure, but I can almost guarantee you they changed course when they were sure they weren’t being pursued.”

“Scratch “almost”,” Antuma said. “These Khonhim are smart, and something as obvious as not letting your opponent know where you’re planning to strike next, they’d do automatically.”

“I agree,” she nodded. “That gives them a lot of targets, Marshal. How do we to cover them all?”

“We can’t,” he sighed. “I want you to pick a system, someplace central, to act as your base, to give you the shortest travel time once we get word of an attack. But even then, it’s likely they’ll be long gone by the time we get word and deploy.”

“You can count on it,” Fujimoto grimaced. “So far they’ve outsmarted us at every turn.” She snorted in disgust. “I saw TNN’s latest propaganda piece. You have no idea how pleased I was to hear about our great victory at Uzaunx.” The sarcasm was dripping from her lips as she spit the words out.

“What did you expect them to say?” Antuma asked in exasperation. “Morale is at a critical juncture now. This war scares the hell out of the Triumvirate races, Hélène, and I can’t blame them one bit. If they still believe there’s a chance, then we have an opportunity...but the moment they decide there’s no hope…”

“...I know,” she said. “I may not like it, but I understand the need. Any idea if it’s working?”

The Marshal shrugged. “So far, at least. They aren’t used to their government lying to them...unlike us cynical humans,” he said with a smirk.

Fujimoto chuckled, but there was no mirth in it. “So, any thoughts on how to slow them down?”

“A couple,” Antuma said. “Consider this your official read in for Operations ‘Kitchen Sink’, and ‘Sucker Punch’.”

Hélène raised an eyebrow. “Interesting names.”

Antuma shrugged. “‘Kitchen Sink’ is our desperation move. Since there’s no way to cover every system, it allows the local commanders to do whatever they think best to defend their worlds. In fact, it’s less a plan than a Carte blanche authorization. They’re allowed to grab whatever they need, use it how they see fit...and hopefully give our Khonhim friends a few surprises.”

Admiral Fujimoto nodded. “And ‘Sucker Punch’?”

“That,” the Marshal sighed, “is where things get tricky.” He sketched out the plan for her, leaving her shaking her head.

“You’re not doing anything by halves, are you?” she said in wonder. “If it goes south…”

“...if it goes south...we’re in no worse shape than we are already,” he finished. “Though its failure will likely seal the Triumvirate’s fate...and God only knows where it leaves Earth.”

“They’ll come for us,” Hélène said quietly. “They must. Earth is the biggest threat they face.” She took a deep breath. “How long until we pull the trigger?”

“At least two months. Maybe longer.” Antuma shook his head. “‘Sucker Punch’ is for all the marbles...and I won’t kick it off until everything is in place.” He was silent for a moment, before giving her studied look. “Your role is the key to making it work, and I need not tell you it involves a great deal of risk.”

“No, you don’t,” Fujimoto said quietly. She looked down at her hands, finding it difficult to meet his gaze. “They’ve beaten me twice now...and because of that a lot of our people are dead.”

Antuma started to reply, but she waved him off. “We owe them, Kwasi,” she said, “...and I intend to collect.”

Nassat pulled on his uniform tunic, mindful of the several still tender spots from his trek. The last portion of his journey was still a blur, and it wasn’t until two days later that he had his first clear memories, waking up on a cot in the Medical tent.

Even now, he was amazed they’d made it. Sergeant Lin was barely alive when they’d found them, and even after they were brought back it had been touch and go. But after repairing the damage to his lungs and legs, the Healers were optimistic as to his chances. He had yet to regain consciousness, but they assured him that was normal, given his injuries.

He took a few minutes to perform some simple stretching exercises, some learned from his days as an Acolyte, others inflicted on him during training, but by the time he finished he was feeling more limber, and the pain had subsided. There were still a few formalities to be dealt with...the humans only thought they were the masters of what they called “Red Tape”...but he was eager to leave this place, and resume his duties. Despite the injuries he had suffered, the enforced idleness grated on him.

After conferring with the Healer assigned to his case and receiving his blessing, Nassat signed out of the Medical tent and was issued a replacement weapon and gear. None of it was new, and he tried not to think about the fates of their previous owners.

“Nassat!”

He turned at the sound of his name, smiling when he saw Raichret approaching. “It is good to see you up and about,” she told him, her professional eyes studying him before nodding in approval. “How are you feeling?”

“I am doing much better,” he smiled. “The Healers have pronounced me fit for duty.”

“I am pleased,” she replied. She gazed up at him, her eyes meeting his, and once more he could see the pain she tried to hide behind them. Raichret glanced both left and right, and then pulled his arm. “I must speak with you,” she said in a hushed whisper, as she tugged him away from the others, leading him outside and out of audible range. Nassat followed, baffled by her strange behavior, but more than willing to hear what she had to say.

“Nassat...there is something I have not told you,” Raichret said, wringing her hands. “Will you promise to hear what I need to say?”

“Of course,” he agreed. Something was troubling her, and if he could help in some small way he was happy to render aid.

Raichret took several moments to steady herself, before whispering, “...Uzaunx is my homeworld, Nassat.” He blinked in surprise at the news, though so much of what he had noticed about her now made sense.

“I have heard nothing of my family since the Khonhim attacked,” she said in a rush, the words tumbling out like a waterfall. “Nassat...my home is near here. I know I have no right to ask this of you now, since you have been so ill, but I fear we will not have another chance.”

His breath caught in his chest, as he realized what she was asking. “Have you spoken to your superiors?” he asked her. “Perhaps they will authorize a search party.”

“I have...and they denied my request,” she snarled in sudden anger. “Please, Nassat,” she begged him, clutching his arm, “will you help me? I must know if they are alive, or…” Raichret froze, unable to say the words, as her eyes filled with tears.

He looked into her eyes and heard every argument against her request play out in his head. Nassat knew he risked a great deal...perhaps even imprisonment. There were so many families, just like hers, that had suffered, so why should Raichret receive special treatment? He knew what Duty required him to say.

Knew...and did not care.

“...I will help you,” he told her, as she hugged him in gratitude.

Their first step was to gain a vehicle, which proved far simpler than he’d first feared. Word of his trek had spread, and Nassat played shamelessly on his newfound notoriety. A few vague words about other soldiers in need of rescue, and with a Healer at his side, they soon found themselves in possession of an ambulance, with enough supplies to complete the trip. With her help he programmed her home’s location on the navigational computer, departing before anyone asked questions.

Nassat scanned the terrain around them as they made their way west, out of ingrained habit, though the Khonhim had long since departed. He had heard news of stragglers, but they were few and far from the area. Yet he heard Sergeant Lin’s words echo in his head as if he sat beside him, so he kept his weapon close at hand and maintained watch just in case.

Raichret said little as they wound their way through the devastated landscape, forced to take one detour after another. She had withdrawn within herself once more, and Nassat knew better than try to jolly her spirits. He could only imagine the fears that gripped her...afraid they would not find her family, afraid that they would. In her heart she must know the odds of finding them still alive, though here and there they spotted others of their kind peering out as they passed...traumatized survivors of the Khonhim attack. He knew relief forces were already in route to provide aid, but the task before them was a colossal one. He could only pray help would arrive in time for these poor souls.

As they neared their destination Raichret grew even more somber, seeing the destruction of places she had known so very well in her youth. Many structures were little more than burned-out shells, and Nassat had grown so accustomed to the bodies he now barely noticed their presence. How far removed you are from the naïve Acolyte, he thought, mourning the loss of that eager young apprentice. Part of him yearned to turn back the clock, to put things back the way they once were...but that was impossible. Glancing over at Raichret, he was certain those were her thoughts as well.

The locator beacon burned on the screen as he pulled the ambulance in front of an upscale home, taking Raichret’s hand in his as they approached the front door. His other held his weapon close, and there appeared to be little damage to the domicile. Lack of power had frozen the door in place, but Nassat located the override and forced it open, calling out to Raichret in alarm as she burst past him, bolting inside the house.

“Mother! Father!” she shouted, racing from room to room, as he followed on her heels. The interior of the home told a far different tale, the smashed and overturned furniture speaking loudly of violence. Raichret barely seemed to notice, her only thoughts being for her family, but as Nassat struggled to keep up he saw that at least there were no signs of bodies.

“...they are not here,” Raichret wailed, hugging herself, as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Perhaps they left some clue where they were headed,” Nassat suggested. “Search the places where they might have left something behind, while I look around the exterior.”

Her eyes went wide as he dangled the small bit of hope before her, nodding as she darted off once more, giving the debris a far more intensive search. He was uncertain if she would find anything, though somehow, he doubted it. No one had been in this home for some time, and that did not bode well. The rear door was also without power, but he forced it open and began searching the immediate area.

It was the smell that led him to the bodies.

They were decomposed, tangled together, with no way to tell the number or gender. They had died hard, that much was certain, as badly as any he had seen on this shattered world. He tried to search as gently as he could, not wishing to disturb them, when a glint of metal caught his eye. A piece of jewelry, finely wrought, depicting a sphere within a tetrahedron. He cleaned it as best he could, before rising to his feet and making his way back to the house, where Raichret was still digging through the piles of rubbish.

“Raichret,” he whispered, as he drew near. Her head snapped up, her eyes filled with desperate hope...and for a moment he considered not showing her what he had found.

But only for a moment...and with a bowed head he opened his palm, revealing the ornament within.

Her shrieks of anguish tore at his soul, as she collapsed into his arms