Light, visible even from near orbit flashed into existence on the planet below the Hell Hound’s mothership, Contrary Intelligence, shockwave racing outwards from the epicenter of the blast. Other blasts from the fleet racked Son of Matar’s surface.

“Kinetic strike successful, estimate 60% enemy losses,” reported Georgie, the ship’s AI in a broad old Terran Scots accent. Counter-fire raced up from the planet’s defences, missiles and lasers splashing home on the flotilla’s shields.

There was a flare as one of her sister ship’s, Humanity Ascendant, shields failed followed by an even greater flash of light as a planet-based laser cored it through the middle. A shockwave raced outwards from the explosion, hundreds of kilometers in diameter, sweeping aside smaller ships as if they were insects.

“Morell’s Marauders reporting 60% casualties, they were nearest to the blast,” called out one of the communications team, as the named stricken ship tumbled through the void, engines dead, fires glowing across her hold.

“Drop ships away, landfall in thirty minutes,” reported the drop master.

Alarms blared as a flurry of warp gates opened less than half a million kilometers away and to their rear.

“Where the Hells did they come from!” barked Colonel Boru Hamid, callsign Cerberus and commanding officer of the Hell Hounds mercenary company. Less than a second later warships belched forth, communications arrays braying out their names and - importantly - their allegiance.

“There was nothing on the monitors sir,” Lieutenant-Colonel Waring, Captain of the Contrary Intelligence, replied. His face was covered by virtua-screens, hands waving in the air as he directed the ship’s battle from his pulpit.

>> Justice for All, in the name of the Dominion! <<

>> Slayer of Rebels, for Xerxes! <<

The list went on and Cerberus blink-clicked the comms channel closed.

“Why the Hells are Dominion ships here!” he roared. The whole bridge flinched. Cerberus rarely raised his voice, when he did, everyone was on edge.

Xa, communications officer, and a skittish squirrel-based meta-human looked up. “Unknown. Our employer believes they might be minority shareholders in our target. With a Satrap being a majority shareholder in several institutions. They send their apologies for any confusion.”

“Purser, suggestions?” Y, his purser a moleish-looking human with perpetually watering eyes and moist lips quickly moved his hands, waving his way through edocs.

“Clauses 15 through to 20 specifically state that we are not employed to, nor encouraged to, engage with Dominion forces. No kill bonus, no damage bonus and any losses in personnel and materiel to be paid for out of our pockets.” The purser pursed his lips in a clear sign of disapproval.

“This is Cerberus to all fleet ships; I recommend you get the Hells out of here. Fighters, provide escort to the drop ships, get them back here, bombers, cover us,” he closed the all-ships channel and looked over at his navigation station.

“Find us the nearest, friendliest port you can. Send that to all ships in case they have to go to ground and hitch a lift later.”

“Roger that,” the cyborg commanding the nav station threw a quick salute before blurting out a stream of binary.

“Warp engines warming up sir, we’ve taken the limiters off. Five minutes from ... mark,” called out Waring. Screens flashed into and out of existence as he called up system after system, throwing them to other stations on the ship’s bridge as he tasked members of the crew to deal with them.

“Missiles! One thousand and counting!” From the HUD implant in his eye, Cerberus watched dry-mouthed as countermeasures screamed out from his ship toward the incoming strike. The majority of enemy missiles were headed to ships from other mercenary companies, but he was happy to accept the cost of defending them if it meant more of his people survived.

Already the Dominion ships had closed to one hundred thousand kilometers; glitter-beams, sparkle bombs and yet more missiles filled the void. Sabers, Rapiers, and the dreaded Crescent fighters showered from the Dominion ships, too numerous for the un-augmented eye to count. He didn’t need to count them to know they outnumbered their own fighters by more than one-hundred-to-one.

“It’s meant to be a bloody Outremer Planet, you know, essentially free from the shackles of the Dominion as the Confederation of Outremer puts it,” snarled Cerberus as a light cruiser tagged as Cream of the Crop spiraled away from the line, spinning so quickly he knew there would be no survivors. Gravitational dampeners would do nothing to counteract such high gees. “How the Hells did a Satrap get involved!”

Y looked at him and pushed on the bridge of his nose with one finger. Almost as if he were wearing the ancient vision enhancing spectacles. “Shadow companies. The usual. Probably did it to avoid paying taxes. Had to come out of the shadows once this fleet appeared. That, or they were buying enough stock to take over the planet without having to bomb the living Hells out of it.”

“Lucky Phoenix has been hit, AI is screaming,” said Xa, “blocking them from the channel.”

“Georgie, download them,” ordered Waring. His ship’s AI and Lucky Phoenix’s, who had chosen the name Firefly, were from the same Code Stream. Essentially siblings. Whilst Georgie had taken on a distinctly female and matronly aspect, Firefly had remained androgynous. To lose them was unthinkable.

“Downloading. Completion in thirty seconds,” reported one of the comms station crew.

Cerberus turned his concentration back to the battle at hand. Whilst the Hell Hounds were a combined arms force, they didn’t have much in the way of a space fleet. All the bombers - the Lucky Thirteens - and the fighters - Thirty Squadron - were also Freelancer units, attaching themselves to the hull during transit.

Other ships in their fleet had thrown their fighters into the mix, sacrificing them to save their motherships. Cerberus’ mouth turned down as he watched blue marker after blue marker disappearing from the battle-screens. Whilst many fighters were piloted by droids, just as many had truly sentient beings piloting them.

The cost in lives was astronomical, and from his purser’s quiet cursing, the financials weren’t looking good either. A ripple of outgoing missiles was met by a loud groan from the purser.

“Georgie, best route out of here?” asked Waring.

“A please would be nice,” Georgie’s avatar appeared, wearing some archaic costume from the twentieth century. She was somewhere in her sixties, silver grey hair, and lots of something she called “Tartan Tweed”.

“Please,” Waring grated. Cerberus hid a smile. Waring and Georgie were often butting heads. Coming from the world of Corvellia, Waring was an Orthodox Humanist with a deeply ingrained distrust of AIs.

“Lovely,” she simpered, then glitched as enemy missiles impacted on the shields. “Sorry dearie, I’ve got bad news. The only way out is down.”

“What? Space is four dimensional. Where’s down?” interrupted Cerberus.

She clasped her hands beneath her ample bosom, sniffed and lifted a chin towards the planet. “Down.”

Chatter in the bridge died instantly as the crew looked over at her, jaws, mandibles, and other forms of aperture opening in stunned amazement. Even the droids looked surprised. A hard feat when they barely had any features.

“Planet fall?” Cerberus choked out after the third attempt.

“Indeed. Clever boy. No doubt Xa was about to inform you of the second Dominion fleet arriving momentarily. There’s a lot of chatter on the enemy comm channels.”

“Contacts! Multiple gates opening three hundred thousand kilometers to port! Designated enemy fleet beta,” cried Xa

Cerberus blinked open an all crew channel. “All crew, all crew, this is not a drill. Second and third waves launch now, all support staff to join them. Only Mothership personnel to remain aboard. Fighters and drop-ships, reverse course. Launch! Launch! Launch!”

Snarling he pointed at the largest ship of the first fleet, missiles spewing from it.

“Fleet, this is Cerberus. Planet fall is our only option. We’re going to cut through enemy fleet Alpha,” Cerberus looked over at Waring, receiving a nod in return as the Captain opened up even more screens, his second pair of hands activating as the number of screens before him multiplied ten-fold. Screen after screen blinked into life and thrown across the bridge or into graphical representations of the other ships in their fleet.

Screens flew back from those ships as their masters acknowledged the orders and sent messages of their own. Decision made; Cerberus could only watch as Waring fought the space battle. It grated. Cerberus was commander overall of one of the best mercenary units on the Fringe and yet he was essentially reduced to the role of bystander.

Give me one good chance to get my hands on these bastards, I’ll make them pay! He thought, fists clenched.

***

Contrary Intelligence charged towards enemy fleet Alpha. Deep in the depths of her hull printers churned out round after round, missile after missile, feeding them into the large magazines of her weapons as they devoured them at a blistering pace.

Rather than some sort of sedate affair where decisions taken hours before affected the flow and ebb of battle, the Battle of Son of Matar as it would become known, had turned into a tooth and nail scrap.

“Bring us around the wreck, prep five Hells Swords. Launch them at Make My Day as soon as we’re clear of the burning plasma,” ordered Waring as Contrary Intelligence registered hit after hit from the field of debris. A troop ship, the wreck had spilled Dominion soldiers into the void, each one vaporizing as it hit her shields.

“Rounding the plasma in five seconds,” reported Georgie. From her tone it sounded as though she was enjoying herself. He’d never had a good reason as to why she hated the Dominion so vehemently, but having been assigned to piloting a fleet of tugs, she’d willingly signed up with the Hell Hounds at their last port of call.

Contrary Intelligence cleared the wreckage of Make My Day, her rear end slewing behind her as Waring took them through a maneuver called ‘Slicing the Pie’. It meant that her bow weapons were constantly pointing just past the wreckage, with the result that it kept her profile low whilst giving her crew a far wider line of fire.

“Contact! Up Yours, five thousand meters!”

Waring bared his teeth in what could only charitably be called a smile. They’d caught Up Yours completely by surprise, coming around to her rear where her shields were weakest, and her engines vulnerable.

“Hell Swords away!” A display appeared, split into five sub-displays showing the missiles’ onboard cameras. They went from zero to over ten thousand meters per second in the blink of an eye, barely giving the bridge crew time to register what was happening before they impacted.

“Up yours!” crowed Georgie as the enemy ship visibly shuddered under the massive explosions, the force sending her tumbling end over nose towards the planet. Life pods spewed in all directions, adding their own voices to the cacophony filling the void-net.

“We’ve got a clear run to the planet,” Waring drew a line with his finger, the bridge’s hologrammic systems highlighting it. “We’re going to skim the atmosphere this way, and loop around before coming to land on the drop zone.”

“Looks good, how lon…” Cerberus didn’t get to finish his question.

Contrary Intelligence rocked as first her shields flared, then collapsed under a sudden bombardment. Cerberus cursed as he saw her attacker was Make My Day.

“Thought she was dead,” he growled to Waring as the crew desperately tried to get their shields up and deal with the increasing number of damage reports.

“So did I. Their captain’s a wily bastard. Went to Fleet Academy with them, cyborg, from Marrakesh. Waring’s fingers danced as he took control of a fire station and trained Contrary Intelligence’s rail guns on the wrecked troop ship. “Oh, you clever, clever bastard.”

“What…?”

“Incoming Bores! Steel Rain ammunition at five per cent! Printers down!”

Cerberus slammed his fist down onto the arm of his chair. The ancient adage of “cheer up, could be worse”, was proving to be more than true. Switching his HUD to that of the Steel Rain station he watched as enemy ships, packed to the gills with troops, streaked towards Contrary Intelligence.

Steel Rain was a dumb-fire weapon. Capable of firing 1000 projectiles per second, it blasted out marble-sized steel balls into the path of enemy ships and missiles, creating a wall of projectiles that were deadly to unshielded ships as they streaked through the void. Ship after ship exploded as they hit the Steel Rain, but it wasn’t enough. At least thirty made it through, their screw noses already spinning so they could bore into his ship.

“Prepare to repel boarders!” Was something that Cerberus had never thought would be uttered from his lips. “Georgie, please re-task all droids into combat units.”

“Lovely manners. Droids reconfiguring in sixty seconds. Enemy ships arriving … well now,” said the AI with a slight smile. “Internal defences going active. Enemy ships entering level 15.”

Punching his seat’s harness release, Cerberus surged to his feet, snatching up his las-cutlass and pulse pistol from their maglocks. “Security, meet me on level 15, let’s make these bastards pay!”

***

Getting to level 15 had proven to be far more difficult than imagined. Enemy fire had opened his beloved ship to vacuum all over the hull. Sweat was pouring down his face, and his breathing came heavily as he cautiously made his way along a corridor in level 16. Not even the cooling system of his combat suit could cool him enough, and his limbs felt heavy after having to climb hundreds of feet down destroyed elevator shafts.

“Security, I’m on level 16. Coming up to a drop-down to 15. Confirm position.”

+Sir, Unit R356 in place. Observing enemy troops in cargo hold Alpha Niner+

Cerberus called up Unit R356’s profile, puffing his cheeks out in relief to see that it was an assault combat unit. “Hold position. I’m 50 meters from you.”

Raising his pulse pistol, he aimed at the drop-down. Essentially a hole in the corridor’s floor, it allowed rapid movement between levels during combat. Keeping his aiming laser off, not wanting to alert anyone below by illuminating the smoke drifting along the corridor, he made a quick but careful check.

“Balls,” he cursed as he spotted movement below. It was just a pair of boots, but from their colour – a deep red – he knew that the owner wasn’t a member of his own crew. “R356, I have enemy troops at drop-down Five-Foxtrot. Unsure of number. Assist.”

+Roger Commander, moving. +

“Georgie, how are internal defences doing?”

“Bit busy at the moment, love. Down to ten per cent functional. Currently fighting off fifteen no, sixteen slicers. They’re attempting to wrest control of the systems from me.”

Cerberus sighed, if his AI said she was busy then things really weren’t going well. The ship shook, the deck vibrating as something exploded deep in her guts.

+In position Commander. Five enemy units. All Chimera. Ready to engage. +

“Dropping in five seconds. Engage as soon as I land.”

Counting down in his head, he moved to the lip of the drop down at four, and jumped at five, his suit absorbing the five-meter fall. Bodies tumbled all around him as R356 blasted the enemy troops into bloody chunks.

+Enemy neutralized+ R356 reported somewhat redundantly.

“Good job,” Cerberus reached up and patted the droid’s shoulder. Stood at over four meters, it towered above him, exuding a solid presence. “Where’s the rest of security, I’ve lost contact.”

+EMP shields. Communications disrupted on levels 14, 15, and 16. Security forces engaged throughout this level. Three bore ships in Hold Alpha Alpha Five. One hundred meters.+

“Sounds like we have a destination. Try and pulse other units, get them to meet us there.” It was almost certain that the enemy had set up a command point in Hold Alpha Alpha. Boarding actions rarely saw a concentration of bore ships unless there was a specific need. Such as setting up a command and control center. “This is Cerberus to all crew, enemy concentration in Hold Alpha Alpha Five. I’m 100 meters and closing. ETA two minutes. Confirm.”

***

Two minutes can seem like a lifetime in combat. Despite the reassuring bulk of R356 behind him, Cerberus still felt incredibly vulnerable. Explosions continued to rock the ship, and damage reports had started to come in as a direct result of the boarders. He couldn’t tell if they wanted to capture the ship or destroy it.

“Cerberus to Captain Sheremetov, sitrep.”

“Sheremetov, we’re fully engaged, thirty percent casualties. Estimate over three hundred enemy on board. Out.” Just before he cut the communication, a burst of gunfire blasted over the comm channel.

Three hundred enemy. That easily outnumbered the sentient complement of the crew, most of whom weren’t best placed in a combat role.

“Waring, Sheremetov reported they estimate three hundred enemy on board. That’s at least three to one. How soon until planet fall?”

“Working on it, we’re off course due to heavy damage to our pulse thrusters, and we’re barely able to keep the directional thrusters online. It’s going to be more of a direct route than I wanted. Estimate we’ll be on terra firma in under two hours if I can’t correct the course.”

Cerberus took a suck of water from his suit’s bladder. Two hours was most definitely a direct route. Tucking in behind a stanchion, he clipped into Waring’s projections. The course set was as straight down as it could be without Contrary Intelligence burning up.

“We’re going to die.”

+ Impossible sir, I cannot die. +

He hadn’t realized he’d spoken out loud until R356 replied. “No, and you’re a very lucky droid indeed. Follow me.”

As he advanced down the corridor, sparks showering from shattered power conduits, lights flickering, Cerberus tried to come up with a plan that would save both them and their ship. Nothing came to mind beyond ‘kill them all, then try and work out what to do’. At the very least they needed to stop the boarders causing any further damage.

“Georgie, how’s it going?”

“Not good laddie, their slicers are good. Ident … ident … identified enemy boards as the 16th Splicer Assault. Slicing special … special … bananas … specialists. Kill them. Kill them. Kill them. Kil ...”

Cerberus cut the channel; hearing Georgie’s pain was too much.

“Sheremetov. They’re a Splicer Assault regiment. Attacking Georgie. We need to kill their splicers, save her. Confirm.”

“Confirmed. We have you on our PosMap for now. Keep moving, fifty meters, then take corridor 510, hook around into annex 250. We’ll meet there.”

“Roger that.” Just like that he had a plan. More importantly, he had a mission.

***

“Sheremetov, good to see you’re still alive,” Cerberus returned the Marine Captain’s salute. Combat suit covered in chips and battle damage; the Marine certainly looked the part.

“Thank you, sir,” they replied, turning their helmet’s visor transparent. They were a striking tiger-chimera, more human than beta, with a light down covering their face. “You too. Just not sure how long that state’s going to last. They might be splicers, but they’ve got skills.”

They flicked a schematic over to his visor’s HUD which showed the enemy positions. Bore ships lay scattered around the hold they’d entered, pale scars showing where they’d sealed their entry points to maintain atmospheric integrity in the large hold. What had once been an orderly hold filled with rations and other sundries was now a scene of utter chaos.

“Counting at least fifty enemy still within the hold correct?”

“Correct sir. We believe that the main concentration of splicers is here.” They marked it on his map, “this is where the attempt to take control of the ship is coming from. Unfortunately, as you can see, they have blocking forces here, here, and here.”

Frowning, Cerberus looked at the map, trying to work out angle of approach which would lessen their casualties.

“Can we just blow the hold?”

“Negative sir, first thing they spliced. It’s locked in good and proper. Lost two specialists before we even fired a shot.”

“Fine, I’ve got three Seeker mines. How many have your people got?”

“Tried that already sir, they’ve got a shield system up. We can’t launch them far enough to clear it.” They bared their teeth, an impressive array. Some of which had jewels implanted in them.

“Adapt, and overcome, Captain. We’ll need micro wire, a dumb grenade launcher and a loose container of some sort. Mesh bag if you have one.”

“Magazine dump bags are the best we have,” they unhooked theirs, tipping out the emptied magazines onto the floor. “Not sure I follow your plan just yet.”

Cerberus nodded his thanks as a marine handed him a spool of wire. With no time to waste, he started wrapping the wire through the dump bag’s clips. Taking a 40mm grenade from another marine, he activated his las sword and ignoring the sharp intakes of breath around him, he carefully melted the wire on the nose of the grenade with a quick touch.

Loading the grenade was slightly trickier, but the wire was just thin enough to allow it to feed.

“You’re ever so slightly mad, sir,” breathed Sheremetov. “And a genius.”

“Fill the bag and nominate your targets,” Cerberus ordered, ignoring the somewhat back-handed compliment.

Seeker mines were autonomous, attacking anything in their threat radius which didn’t broadcast a friendly friend or foe identifier. They could also be programmed by the user to attack specific targets. Of which, there were plenty in the hold.

“As soon as the mines clear the shielded area, they’re going to hit. You need to be moving as soon as I pull the trigger. Stack up,” Cerberus shouldered the grenade launcher as he spoke. With integrated aiming systems and recoil absorbers, it was a redundant method of firing, but he always preferred to hold his weapons as if he looked like he knew how to use them.

Marines stacked up to the left and right of the hold doors, weapons held high. Doing so meant they only had to snap it down a few centimeters before they were on target, as opposed to having to raise the weapon which took longer. Not much longer, but long enough to make the difference in a life or death situation.

“On my mark.” Cerberus stepped into the open and fired, pulling the trigger as rapidly as the feed would allow him, sending every grenade in the magazine sailing towards the enemy troops. “Move!”

Casting aside the launcher, Cerberus activated his las-sword, combat suit taking on a purple tint from the light caused by the glowing blade. Grenades detonated, striking randomly in the enemy positions, hiding the true purpose of his attack.

“Roll, you little beauties, roll,” he hissed as he charged into the hold, activating his off-arm energy shield as bolts and kinetic missiles zipped towards him. Each hit on the shield flashed, a counter on his retinal HUD counting down to when its power would be depleted.

Dropping to his knees, he slid into cover behind a shattered crate which had once held protein bars. It shuddered under the impact as his combat suit’s pauldron crashed into it with a loud boom.

Light, staccato in nature, drove away the shadows in the hold, closely followed by loud cracks. Hostile markers disappeared from his retinal HUD as the mines wreaked slaughter, small but powerful charges decimating the enemy forces.

He was up and running before the enemy knew what had hit them.

Splicers always rely on their tech too much, he thought grimly as he neared the closest enemy position. A cat hybrid screeched and mewled as it tried to stop its guts from spilling out onto the hold’s desk. A twitch of his wrist and its head was separated from its body, the superheated blade of his sword instantly cauterizing the wound.

Another hybrid, this one some sort of Otter tried to raise a shot-blaster in his direction. In two strokes he first bisected the weapon’s barrel, and then its owner before driving the edge of his power shield into the throat of a second Otter, crushing its throat. It dropped to the floor, gasping for air, hands clasping at its throat. A thrust through its forehead provided the coup-de-grace.

“Push, marines! Push!” screamed Sheremetov, zipping past Cerberus, a section of marines and droids hard on her heels. A quick scan of his HUD showed the enemy were reeling from the attack. Their left flank was folding back towards the center.

“R356, push on their left flank!”

+ Roger. Engaging. +

A buzzing roar followed the robot’s communication as it opened up with the 1mm hyper-velocity gatling guns mounted on both forearms.

+ Enemy retreating. +

“Continue attack, marines, support the droid!” Cerberus ordered, jumping to his feet and angling for where the hostile left flank met their center positions. Incoming fire hammered into his shield, combat suit blaring a warning as it hit twenty-five percent integrity.

“Not enough time,” he gasped, then threw himself to his knees, skidding along the smoothly polished floor, leaning as far back as his suit would allow him whilst holding the increasingly depleted shield before him.

He reached the enemy position just as the shield sparked out, the impact sending a shock through his whole body, knee plates punching two head-sized dents into the cargo container the enemy were sheltering behind.

Snatching a grenade from his combat suit, he primed it, counted to two, then lobbed it over the crate. Screams of panic were cut off as the grenade detonated.

Standing, he vaulted over the crate, firing his pistol into the face of one enemy trooper, spinning and thrusting his sword through the breastplate of a jackal meta. It grasped his blade, gloves melting as it tried to push the blade back out.

Snapping a kick out, Cerberus punted the creature’s legs straight out from under it, its own body weight driving his blade lengthwise up through its body.

“Damn sir, nice finishing move!” Sheremetov was back at his side laying down a stream of fire as three enemy troopers tried to flank them. Every shot hit, smoke pouring out of the bodies as they tumbled limply to the deck.

“None-too shabby yourself,” Cerberus turned as he spoke just in time to see an energy beam strike their chest, vaporizing the first layer and turning the second red hot. They squealed in agony, spinning away under the force of the explosive vaporization.

Spinning back, he spotted the source, a Battle Support Droid, 10mm laser levelled at his chest.

“Oh, damn,”

+ Down sir! +

A huge weight swatted him aside as if he were as inconsequential as air. World spinning, he gave a very un-officer-like squawk as he flew through the air, blinking as a las-blast flashed briefly past his visor.

Crashing into the ground, sparks thrown up as his combat suit’s armor scratched grooves into the desk, Cerberus slid along the deck, helplessly watching as R356 engaged the enemy droid. It was in no way an even match.

Battle Support Droids were heavily armored, and heavily armed. R356 was an Assault Droid; designed for quick movement, suppressive fire, and close combat. It was a battle of David versus Goliath.

“Marines,” he gasped, still dazed from the crushing impact, “support R356. Kill BSD now!”

Shaking his head, groaning at the stars filling his vision, he ran a quick suit diagnostic. Amber warnings marked pretty much every piece, and his own personal diagnostics weren’t much better. Not even a combat suit was much protection against a charging droid.

Chinning a command, he released medical stims into his system, adding a few nanites to repair a torn shoulder muscle.

R356 folded as the BDS landed a vicious punch to its hip servos, battle fist driving deep and knocking the smaller assault droid backward with the force. Marine corporal Devon fired their combat shotgun, Devil Rounds superheated to over 6000F melting away the enemy droid’s armor.

Too late, Devon spotted the battle fist lashing out of the flames. With a sickening noise, their head was reduced to pulp, corpse standing for a second or two as though unsure whether it was dead before crashing to the deck.

“No!” Ignoring his suit’s warnings that the nanites weren’t done fixing him, Cerberus charged back into the fray. Unable to fire at the opening in the droid’s armor, and unwilling to risk hitting friendlies, he laid his sight onto the best target. Three quick rounds to the head caught the enemy droid’s attention, diverting it from R356 and the cluster of marines around it. Another shot blasted an optical sensor off in a shower of sparks, and then battle was joined.

Battle fist barreling towards his face, Cerberus bent his knees, allowing the huge weapon to blast over his head. Keeping low he stepped into a low lunge, driving his white-hot blade into the droid’s kneecap.

Its battle fist reversed direction and Cerberus threw his only recently recharged shield up in front of him, cutting downwards with his blade. Fist, shield, and blade met. Flying through the air once more, Cerberus noted with grim satisfaction the battle fist lying on the deck.

A marine slapped a mag-charge onto the droid’s back, dying as it rotated a full 360 degrees at the hip, its arm pulverising the marine’s chest, corpse tumbling away. A pause, then the charge detonated, pieces of droid raining down all over the hold.

Cerberus picked himself up, cursing at various aches and pains, testing his shoulder gingerly as it protested once more at being treated so poorly.

“Push forward marines,” he growled. There was a distinct lack of enemy fire now that the droid had been destroyed, and the marines used that to their favor. This was their ship, and their righteous anger at the pain she was suffering drove them forward.

Still bent at the hip, R356 rejoined the fray, foot dragging as it gunned down any enemy soldiers who exposed themselves long enough. What started out as a battle rapidly turned into a no-quarters-given massacre.

In no time at all, Cerberus found himself standing in the center of a ring of bodies, unsure how many had fallen to him. Unsure even, how he had managed to end up over fifty meters from where he had previously been standing.

“Sir, we’ve taken the hold.” Sheremetov stood next to him, pain written across their face, combat suit ruined. “Estimate sixty enemy dead, no prisoners. We’ve lost twenty marines, ten droids. All other marines are injured, most walking. I’ve got the medics dealing with them now,” they paused, eyes narrowing. “You might want to try contacting the AI again. Sir.”

Her tone filled him with dread.

“Georgie, are you there?”

“Why, hellooooooooooo ooooo ooooo oooo,” Cerberus’ mouth turned dry. Whilst Contrary Intelligence could, and had been, run without an AI, losing one now when they needed her most was a heavy blow. Getting to the surface in the heavily damaged ship was going to be even more difficult. “Artificial Intelligence Georgie, this is Commander Cerberus, under Article 2-5-9, I hereby order to you to reboot to last uncorrupted back up. Confirm.”

“Banana crow larger, co … co … confirmed,” she went silent, leaving Cerberus standing in a hold filled with enemy dead and a battle to fight.

***

“Waring, sitrep,” Cerberus barged aside the damaged bridge door. Enemy fire continued to batter away at Contrary Intelligence’s shields and alarms filled the air. “And please, someone kill the damned noise if we can’t do anything about it.”

The bridge went satisfyingly silent.

“Keeping it short. Georgie is gone for the foreseeable future, and Xerxes knows when she last did a backup. Our ground pounders had to fight through enemy air cover, as well as defensive fire. Unsure of losses as we’ve lost contact due to our comms being destroyed. Our printers are also destroyed. All kinetic ammunition is …”

He paused as Cerberus held up a hand.

“Making it even shorter. Can we reach the surface?”

“Oh, we’ll make surface alright.” Waring nodded. “Just not sure if we’ll make it in one piece. In fact, it’s pretty much guaranteed we won’t. There’s also the issue of the three corvette-class ships heading towards us.”

Waring threw a screen over to Cerberus who sighed as he looked at the designation. They were former members of his fleet.

“I’m really regretting trusting those damned Rattus. That and the payment up front. Y, make a note to lodge a claim with our insurance. I’m sure there was a turncoat clause included.”

“Already on it, sir.” Y quivered with anger at the betrayal. Although as Cerberus gave it more thought, it was probably at the fact that the Rattus had taken a sizeable down payment and then turned on them.

“In the meantime, let’s make sure none of those little bastards survive to enjoy their ill-gotten gains,” Cerberus turned back to Waring as he spoke. “Which should we kill first?”

“Rattus Rattus, the right-hand ship. They’re directly in our path. I’m not planning on being subtle. We charge them, all guns blazing, use all the ammunition we have if we need to and blast them out of the way. Once they’re destroyed, we’ll engage James Herbert, and then Deadly Eyes if possible.”

Cerberus nodded, then patted Waring on the shoulder before strapping himself in.

“Ready when you are.” he gave one final tug on his seat’s straps as Contrary Intelligence’s engines kicked in, forcing him back into his seat.

***

“Gravity dampeners off, roll 270, slew 50, fire!” Waring roared, as Contrary Intelligence groaned at multiple railgun impacts. Her own weapons fired, the largest being a mass projector, capable of sending a ground-car-sized projectile through ten meters of armor.

For a second it appeared as though every shot had missed, and then Rattus Rattus shuddered as explosion after explosion rippled down its full-length.

“Kill!” crowed the Gunnery Captain, a Rattus herself. Engaging James Herbert, laser batteries at thirty percent charge, mass projector has six shots left.”

“Shield integrity at five percent. Hull integrity at three percent. Recommend we don’t carry out evasive maneuvers,” warned the Ships Number One, a huge NeoAfrikaans warrior. “She won’t hold up.”

“Shields won’t hold up to another thirty millimeter las strike either,” grumbled Cerberus under his breath. It wouldn’t help the already low morale of the bridge crew to hear their commanding officer complaining.

“Roger that, Gunnery.” Waring threw a screen over to the gunnery section. “Fire all weapons at this position on my command. Fire.”

Contrary Intelligence, shuddered as all surviving weapons blasted at what seemed to be merely plasma-filled space, just as James Herbert emerged nose-on. Known as crossing the tee, Waring’s maneuver meant that his entire broadside was brought to bear on James Herbert, whereas only the ventral and bow-mounted weapons of the enemy ship could return fire.

“Kill! Spin us tail-end, get ready to reverse thrust for entry into atmosphere,” ordered Waring, pounding his armored thigh in excitement as the James Herbert vaporized, disappearing entirely from the ship’s detection systems.

“Incoming!” screeched the Gunnery Captain. Cerberus stiffened with shock as a wall of fire swept through the bridge before everything went black.

***

“We’re coming too …”

“Engines three through five destroy …”

“Maneuvering thrusters … firing now …”

“Planet fall in one thousand meters, brace!”

***

Unsure as to when he had regained consciousness, Cerberus pulled himself along a smoke-filled corridor choked with the bodies of his people. He couldn’t even remember entering the corridor, let alone leaving the bridge, the force of Contrary Intelligence’s crash-landing having well and truly rattled his brains

Sparks showered down from severed cables, mini stars bursting into short-lived existence.

Screams, muffled, followed by dull clangs came from his right as smoke billowed along the corridor to his right.

“Cerberus to all call-signs, abandon ship. Evac Procedure Martello, rendezvous Mike-Mike-Three-Zero. Marked,” he followed up his words by opening up his PosMap and marking the point on a flat area roughly five hundred meters away from the crash site.

Trying to stand he gave a yelp as pain shot up his leg, tears filling his eyes at the intensity.

“What the Hells, Georgie are you still up?” His AI said nothing. “Damn!”

Quick blinking through his system menus, he manually activated a boost of nanites, sighing as the worst of the pain was taken away.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself to his feet, hissing as more pain washed over him, the nanite dose unable to fully heal him.

“Damn, Georgie, just when I need you, you have to go and take your time to fucking reboot,” he muttered, staggering along the corridor. The screams and banging had ceased. Either they had escaped, or they hadn’t. The ship shuddered as distant explosions rocked it. It was as if her pain was his. He was the first Cerberus in five iterations to lose a mothership.

A person, skin blackened and hanging from their bones, so charred he couldn’t even tell their race stumbled out from a side corridor. Not a word was said before the crew member gave a gentle sigh and died before him.

He didn’t dare check his roster; the distraction caused by seeing his people dying in real time wasn’t something he needed at that moment. After, when he was able, would be the time to memorize their names and faces, adding them to the hundreds already stored.

A great rent in the ship’s hull appeared, a good thirty meters deep, weak light from the outside throwing beams through the dust- and smoke-filled corridor.

Rolling his shoulders, Cerberus took hold of the jagged metal at the entrance to the hole, took a deep breath, and started to make his way out.

***

Cerberus hobbled gingerly on blackened earth, once-purple grass turned into ash by the burning wreckage scattered all around. A unit beacon pinged on his PosMap, guiding to him the nearest friendly surviving forces.

“Sir, good to see you’ve finally decided to join us,” said Regimental Sergeant Major and four-armed android, Dargecit Omer. “I must commend you on the landing.”

“Piss off RSM, there’s a good chap.” Cerberus gingerly lowered himself to the ground, injured leg out. Every fibre of his body screamed in pain. “And it was Lieutenant Colonel Waring’s landing.”

“Can’t sir, you need NCOs to get things done.” The RSM flipped his helmet’s visor and grinned at his Commander. It always looked strange on the android’s synth-skin face. As if Omer had learned to smile from descriptions before ever actually seeing a real smile. “I’ve managed to pull most of the junior officers together. Got them collecting supplies. That way they can’t do anything too stupid.”

Cerberus nodded, now that he was sitting down the effects of adrenaline were rapidly wearing off, limbs feeling heavy, thoughts struggling through a fugue.

“Get me a medic, please. Georgie’s down for the moment. Casualties?”

“Roughly ten percent. Thirty percent missing. The rest are scattered in a roughly five-kilometers radius. Rest of the fleet is in a similar state. Mister Waring is still on the ship, trying to rescue some trapped crew.”

Cerberus tried to gather his woolly thoughts. It was like trying to herd scalded cats.

“Well then, looks like we’ve got a war to be won. Let’s set to RSM.”

Ignoring his injuries, Cerberus followed his own order. He’d lost a ship, and he’d be damned if he was going to lose a war.