Now I ain't sayin' it's right or it's wrong

But maybe it's the only way.

Talk about your revolution

It's Independence Day.

Let freedom ring, let the white dove sing

Let the whole world know that today

Is a day of reckoning.

Let the weak be strong, let the right be wrong

Roll the stone away, let the guilty pay

It's Independence Day.

Martina McBride - “Independence Day”

“So you’re certain this isn’t something I need to worry about?” Marshal Antuma asked the Minister.

Leandra chuckled. “I think you can say we have an understanding,” she smirked. “Whatever the other Ministers might have been planning, I can assure you they aren’t planning it now.”

Antuma laughed along with her, as a Saurotaur aide entered the room and handed him a tablet.

He stopped laughing. “God damn it.”

“What?” she asked. Obviously, nothing good.

He slid the tablet over to her. “It seems Hélène has kicked off ‘Sucker Punch’ a little earlier than planned,” he said, before punching an icon on his console. “This is Antuma,” he said in professional tones, “Issue movement orders for our ground forces on Uzaunx. Tell them…”

He paused for a moment, as he shared a look with Minister Singh. “Tell them...they are to expedite transport for Zaaronq.”

The early engagements against the Khonhim had shown that the Comet fighters, while agile and deadly at close range, could not stand toe to toe against the massive enemy ships. The humans had plans for several classes of ships on the drawing boards, all ready to put into production...but even the smallest class would take over a year to complete.

It had become obvious the Triumvirate did not have a year.

So the engineers went back to work, looking at what they could build right now...and came up with what had to be the ugliest, ungainliest, most brute force application of a warship ever designed. They took a Ronin tank, stripped off the treads and slapped on a pair of massively overpowered engines, swapped out the single barrel rail gun for a pair of tri-barrel antimatter turrets, grafted on enough armor to make a battleship swoon, and pronounced it good.

Some wag had dubbed it the HK, after an obscure twentieth-century cinematic entertainment series, and the name stuck. The shipyards had been hard at work cranking them out...and now that they had activated the first two squadrons, Admiral Fujimoto had taken a chance. They were not agile, but then they had never been intended to be.

If the Comet was a dagger...then the HK was a battleax.

Hélène Fujimoto had realized while looking at the star map that there was no single place she could plant her flag and hope to catch the Khonhim fleet, so she took a gamble and did the one thing all military leaders have pounded into their heads to never do...split their forces. Dividing your units into smaller groups hands your enemy an engraved invitation to “Defeat in Detail”...an innocuous-sounding euphemism that sends any experienced officer straight to their whiskey bottle. It allows the enemy to bring their entire force to bear on each smaller unit, gobbling them up one at a time like so much candy.

Admiral Fujimoto had understood that risk all too well...and did it anyway.

There had been no other way to cover enough of the sector, so she had given each task force strict instructions. Whichever was the closest was to arrive on-site and then avoid action at all costs, until the other group emerged in the system. It was risky as hell, for if they could not avoid action…

But now both task forces were in sight of Zaaronq...and the Comet squadrons had abandoned their dance with the Khonhim, making a beeline to link up with their HK brothers.

Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz recognized their intended plan in an instant, and the one thing he could not do was let the two enemy forces unite. Unfortunately, he was out of position, and even if he risked burning out his engines to prevent it he could only manage extreme weapons range before the two units merged. He’d get some hits...but not enough.

It seems the humans have chosen their killing ground, he thought. So be it. He still had the advantage in ship weight, but this new fleet comprised vessel types unknown to him. Who knew what they might be capable of...though it seemed he was about to find out. What happened next would not be the one-sided slaughter he had enjoyed so far, but a brutal slugging match with no guarantees as to the victor. So what advantage did he still possess?

His eyes turned to the monitor and the planet below. If this was to be the final battle, then let it be one for the ages. “Pass the word to all ships,” he ordered. “All assault craft are to head for the planet and take the population centers still intact.” A thin smile appeared on his face, as they acknowledged the order. The enemy could link forces, or they could prevent his assault on the planet.

They could not do both.

Admiral Fujimoto had breathed a heavy sigh of relief as the HK squadrons entered the system. She’d known how long it would take for the other task force to arrive, and on what vector, and as she maneuvered the fleet to avoid the Khonhim she’d positioned herself between them. Armchair amateurs might wax poetic about attacking with converging forces to smash the enemy, but pulling it off required split-second timing, with units who had trained together for years. Since that had been a luxury they could not afford, she’d opted instead to join forces first, and then take entire armada into battle against the Khonhim fleet. It was the safe move, the smart move...and the one that left her out of position when the enemy ships started disgorging assault craft.

Hélène pounded her armrest in frustration. She yearned to turn back and blow those craft out of the sky, but she knew that was what Jiyazh wanted her to do. Oh yes...make a mad dash in with half her forces, only to get chewed to bits while the rest of the fleet looked on. She was between Scylla and Charybdis, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

Except to ensure the Khonhim paid dearly when she brought the entire fleet down on them like the Wrath of God.

“Admiral, incoming message from Command,” her communications officer announced. “Routing it to your terminal now.”

She managed not to wince as she reviewed the communiqué. Kwasi was pissed, and she couldn’t blame him one bit. Hélène had known full well she was overstepping her authority when she authorized “Sucker Punch” ahead of schedule...but she couldn’t stand by and watch another half dozen worlds razed while they waited to build up their forces. The plan had been to throw five HK squadrons at the Khonhim, not the paltry two she possessed, but she’d crunched the numbers and run the sims, and Hélène was certain she could pull it off with what she had.

Well…reasonably certain. That was the difference between the two of them; Antuma was the one who calculated the odds, always making the smart play...and never bluffing when he didn’t have the cards. She, on the other hand, was the one who operated on instinct, going with her gut as she psyched out her opponent. Hélène had known how Kwasi would react had she asked permission...so she didn’t. Instead, she’d handed him a fait accompli, and nodded in satisfaction at the notice he was sending her the ground forces from Uzaunx. God knows they would need them.

Assuming she could hold the fleet together until they arrived.

Nassat gestured to the last few stragglers of Bravo company, straining to bring their gear aboard the waiting transport. “We must hurry,” he informed them, as they worked to secure their equipment. The orders to leave Uzaunx had arrived unexpectedly, and now the entire Army was scrambling to comply. He and Raichret had already said their goodbyes, as she and the other Healers had evacuated with the first wave along with the wounded.

He was uncertain what he and she were to each other. He knew she cared for him, as he did for her, but was it because of what they had gone through together? Was their relationship based on nothing more than shared hardship, reinforced with the need to cling to someone during their darkest hours? And if it were...could they endure?

It was a question for which he had no answers. It seemed there were many such questions, now that he commanded Bravo company, albeit temporarily. They had just received a new batch of recruits fresh from Basic, and he shuddered at how wide-eyed and callow they were. He couldn’t believe he had once been just like them, not so long ago, and he reminded himself of that fact as he put them through their paces, preparing them as best he could for what was to come.

And tried not to think how many of those eager young faces would not live to see the war’s end.

There had been one other person he had needed to speak to, besides Raichret, before their departure, and he had managed it only minutes before the first wave lifted. Sergeant Lin’s condition had improved since their arduous trek, but he was still a long way from full recovery. There were so many things he needed to ask him, so many concerns churning inside him as he once again questioned the Army’s wisdom in making him Bravo’s commander. Did they see something within him he could not?

Or were they simply that desperate?

The brief conversation had not gone as he expected. He had gone to him as he once had as a young Acolyte to the Venerable Eashray when that ancient monk had still held his respect...but Lin would have none of it. “Call me Jehiel,” he’d chuckled. “We’re the same rank now...and I’d say you’ve earned the right.”

His tongue had balked at such familiarity. “I must know what I am supposed to do,” he’d asked, feeling the weight upon his shoulders. “I am not ready for what is coming.”

Lin had simply smiled. “You’re ready, Nassat, but if it’s wisdom you’re looking for, there’s just one thing you need to know.”

Nassat held his breath, waiting in awe as the human who had taught him so much prepared to impart the sagacity of the ages to him...but Lin surprised him yet again.

“...do what you gotta do,” he whispered. “Everything else is bullshit.”

He was still pondering the meaning of those words as the ramp doors closed, and the shuttle lifted for orbit.