José stands at the bottom of one of the Dragon Breath's many interceptors, near its hangar-port. The vessel is a small, two-person craft with limited space aboard. Its shape resembles an angular bullet, with wings that stick out a few feet from its side horizontally before angling upward in a 'V' shape. Strewn around the hangar are dozens and dozens of Kraktol bodies, all of them unconscious. Remnants of his arrival aboard the Fleet Commander's ship, these heavily armed commandos lay in clumps of two and three, unmoving.

The Admiral pays them no heed.

He strides up the interceptor's rear entry ramp as it lowers, smiling to himself when he hears Megla mutter to Soren behind his back, "The Terran didn't kill anyone but Orgon?"

"If he did, it was likely an accident," Soren replies with a shrug.

The Human and two crocodilians climb the interceptor's ramp and immediately find themselves amidst its narrow, single hallway. José stoops to enter the craft so that he doesn't smack his head against the eight-foot-high ceiling.

"Bit cramped," José mutters.

"No," Megla snaps. "You're too damned big."

The Terran Admiral ignores the anger in her voice. After all, he killed her Commander just minutes before. The pain is only now truly hitting her, making her rage flare up.

He finishes entering the craft and walks up front, where he gingerly slides into the cramped pilot's chair. Soren slides much more easily into the chair beside him, thanks to only standing six-feet tall. Given she and Megla are three-feet shorter than José, they don't have any problems fitting into the interceptor's cabin.

After a few moments of sweeping his gaze across the ship's control systems, José hesitates. He frowns as he examines the numerous dials, knobs, and buttons strewn across the ship's control panel.

"Hmm."

"Admiral?" Soren asks, not hesitating to address him as her new commanding officer. "Is there a problem?"

Perhaps sensing something about José's eye movements, Megla snorts. "What's the matter, softskin? Don't know how to fly a clunker like this?"

José glances behind himself at Megla as she stands in the doorway. "That's right. This ship is... ancient. I find it hard to believe even a third era vessel would use such an outmoded control system. This looks more like a first or second era ship."

Umi's voice speaks from the ship's audio projectors overhead. "Admiral. If you would like, I can fly this interceptor for you. I believe the Tactical Officer also possesses extensive flight experience on this type of craft."

In response, José waves away the synthmind's concerns. "No. I'll do this myself."

Soren nods and leans back in her seat, but Megla immediately berates José. "Pah! You stubborn fool! Why would you waste time and effort trying to fly our shoddy vessel when you have others who can do it for you? Must you continually subject those around you to your unquenchable ego?"

"Haha..." José laughs awkwardly. "It's not that. However, as one of Ramma's Chosen, I always follow her creeds. Among them is the tenet which states, 'a day spent without learning something new is a day wasted.' Therefore, why shouldn't I attempt to fly this vessel?"

Before Megla can retort, José flicks his eyes toward the ceiling, only two inches above his head. There, he spots a narrow cubby with a datapad tucked inside. José snatches the pad from its holder and smiles as it boots up to reveal pre-flight checks and numerous operation instructions.

"Excellent. This will do," José mutters.

Officer Soren leans back to look over José's shoulder at the flight control-book. "Admiral. Do you need any assistance translating our written word?"

"No," Admiral Rodriguez replies. "My brain possesses several bio-chips, including an advanced translation interface. Umi already downloaded your entire linguistic database earlier today."

Soren glances at Megla meaningfully. "I see."

Several minutes pass. Both Kraktol watch silently as José peruses the 300-page flight manual with surprising speed. He reads each page in fewer than three seconds, seemingly skimming it for any relevant information.

Eventually, Megla leans against the cabin door and chuckles. "What foolishness. How can anyone learn to fly a vessel like this just by reading a book? You are wasting your time, softskin."

"We've been over this," José retorts. "Learning new things is never a waste. Why should I rush to leave? Your fleet isn't going anywhere and can't attack me. I'll take my time."

Without another word, the Admiral continues flipping through the datapad's contents, finishing it after less than a minute. Satisfied, he slides it back into its holder and turns his attention to the cockpit's console.

Beep. Beep. Flick. Beep.

Hesitantly, José begins twisting various knobs and watching a dozen different readouts. He starts running through a pre-flight checklist, confirming the amount of Deuterium onboard for fuel, as well as the craft's general situation.

"All systems nominal on my side," José says. He glances at Soren. "Coolant injector status?"

Soren checks a readout. "Coolant is at eighty percent capacity, Admiral."

"Vacuum pressurization?"

"One hundred percent efficiency, Admiral."

"Landing gear?"

José's copilot taps a button on her side and watches it for a moment. "Operating normally."

"Preflight checklist complete," José replies. He taps several buttons to ignite the engines while also enabling the anti-gravity thrusters.

After a moment, José nods. "Prepare for takeoff."

"Retracting landing struts in five seconds, Admiral."

"Releasing hangar lockdown chains now," Jose says.

"Landing struts retracted, Admiral."

José smiles. "Engaging boosters."

A slight pulling sensation tugs at the ship's occupants, especially Megla. She grasps the doorway firmly, not bothering to sit in one of the cargo-bay seats. When the ship begins moving forward, she doesn't even twitch from the sudden momentum shift.

"Clearing hangar bay oxygen-shield," José says. "Now entering the void. Takeoff successful."

Officer Soren glances at José with a look of admiration. "You really did learn how to fly this ship in only ten minutes, Admiral."

"Of course," José says, his smile expanding. "I'm a Terran. I cook, clean, fly, build, repair, and fight. Specialization is for insects."

"If only those skills compared to your bragging ability, you'd truly be unstoppable." Megla snaps.

...

The ship travels the few kilometers to the Bloodbearer in under a minute. Thanks to the Dragon Breath's docking bay being lined up with the Bloodbearer's, it's a straight shot between both ships, resulting in a quick and effortless flight for José and the Kraktol.

Soon, they pass through the Bloodbearer's oxygen shield. Megla's eyes narrow as she gazes out the interceptor's window and scans the Bloodbearer's massive hangar bay.

"Empty. Not a soul in sight."

"All I have for crew are holograms," José says with a sigh. "Like I told Orgon, all the other members of my species are dead, as far as I know."

Megla snorts. "What a pity. You're the last killing machine left floating around in the galaxy."

"That's right," José mutters. "The very last one. Don't shed any crocodile tears on my behalf."

"Worry not, for I will not."

The Terran and Kraktol fall silent as José sets the ship down the hangar floor with a noticeable thump. Megla nearly loses her balance from the impact and flashes a glare at José.

"Tch. So you do have some faults after all."

José nods. "I've never been that good of a pilot. I'm a fighter first and foremost."

The former First Officer pulls backward to allow the Terran Admiral to exit the cockpit. He squeezes past Megla, while Soren follows in his wake.

With a loud hiss, the interceptor's landing platform lowers to the ground below. José strides onto the hangar bay floor, his boots loudly clomping against the shiny exosteel and echoing into the distance. The eerie silence of the hangar makes the two Kraktol women shiver.

"It's like a graveyard," Megla mutters.

"How did you come to possess such a massive craft all on your own?" Soren asks.

José sighs. A distant look of sadness appears in his eyes. "Unwillingly. I'd give it up in a heartbeat to regain that which I've lost."

Perhaps sensing the deep sense of loss in his words, both of the Kraktol decide not to press him further. They follow along obediently behind José as he strides across the hangar toward an unknown destination.

"Umi. Release the Kraktol fleet. Wipe their memories as I previously instructed, and send them back home."

The Admiral's casual order lights a spark in Megla's eyes. "What? Wipe their memories?! What would be the purpose for doing that? I don't understand!"

"I have my reasons," José replies. "I don't want the galaxy to know of my existence just yet, so I prepared a quick memory-cleansing routine earlier, before I left my ship. It will erase all the specific knowledge of my identity and that of my ship, but my words will linger in the minds of all your former crew. They will only remember me as a terrifying figure shrouded in shadow, someone they must not anger at any cost. Only then will they follow my commands to leave the Kessu alone."

José glances over his shoulder to direct a venomous look at Megla. "I have to protect the last twenty or so remaining Kessu. Thanks to your Commander, they've lost everyone they knew and loved. I truly hope you're proud of yourself."

Megla blinks in surprise. "Huh? We didn't exterminate the Kessu. We couldn't! Orgon immediately ceased the extermination operation to chase after that stealth vessel. Hardly anyone, be they Mallali or Rodak, possesses a vessel of such a caliber. If the Kraktol were to obtain such a highly advanced 14th Era stealth-craft, our power would increase by several magnitudes."

The group of three slows to a stop as José turns around to eyeball Megla. "You didn't slaughter all of the Kessu?"

"Not for lack of trying," Megla snorts. "I tried to convince Orgon to leave half our fleet behind, but he always did have an eye for power. His greed outweighed his obedience to the Thülvik."

"Don't you usually speak positively about Orgon?" José asks. "His corpse has barely begin to cool, and already you've begun speaking snidely behind his back."

Megla crosses her arms. "I respected Orgon, but he had his flaws. Perhaps if he'd listened to me, then we would have exterminated the Kessu and never met you. He'd still be alive."

Soren stares at Megla with a strange, distant look. "It seems Orgon's death has had a profound effect on your psyche. You've never been one to criticize your superiors."

"Oh, shut up!"

Megla shakes her head out of irritation. She glares at José as if to say, 'let's get a move on.'

José shrugs. He resumes his course to head deeper into the hangar, while the two Kraktol fall into position behind him. As they walk, Megla and Soren both shoot admiring glances at the dozens upon dozens of parked interceptors, bombers, crew shuttles, and repair vehicles parked all across the Bloodbearer's hangars. The majesty of 50th-era technology dazzles their eyes, making them feel as if they've stepped inside a time machine and traveled to the distant future.

Every so often, Soren will fire off a question regarding this ship or that one, and each time, José humors her with a detailed, informative answer.

Megla mostly keeps quiet. However, she does suck in a sharp breath now and again upon witnessing particularly majestic vehicles. "Goodness. That one looks like it could rip the Dragon's Breath to shreds. And that one over there- I doubt our weapons could even scratch it. Compared to the Kessu stealth-craft, even the worst vehicle in this hangar would outmatch an entire fleet from the Core."

Eventually, the Kessu's stealth-craft, the Slipstream, appears up ahead. The Kraktol find themselves thinking that, perhaps, it isn't even that incredible. Their expectations rise to the heavens after witnessing the Bloodbearer's typical fighter complements.

"Admiral. I have completed your orders. All of the Kraktol vessels have entered hyperspace and departed this sector. We are now alone."

Umi's voice speaks from overhead, making José pause before the Slipstream's entry ramp.

"Very good. Start collating a list of needed repairs for me. Prioritize them based on flight readiness. Start with the engines and work your way down the list."

"Orders acknowledged, Admiral. I will begin at once."

"Great."

José aims his palm at the two Kraktol. "Stay here. I'll be right back."

Soren and Megla nod. They both walk over to a support beam and lean against it casually, opting to wait for José's return.

The Terran Admiral strides up the Slipstream's ramp. His heavy footsteps echo into the interior of the ship, summoning a frenzy of movement.

"He's back!"

"The Great Precursor has returned! Quickly, Nyoor!"

A pitter-patter of soft paws on steel greets José's ears as he enters the ship. Within seconds, more than a dozen excited-looking kitty cats come running out to see him, their eyes full of stars.

"Greetings! We give greetings!"

The Kessu stand and stare at José excitedly, while he leans forward to pet their heads. "Haha. Yes, it's good to see you all, too. I'm back."

Every Kessu José pets jumps around excitedly afterward, thrilled by his oddly-satisfying touch. They chatter quietly amongst each other and wait while Elder Nyoor and his wife, Baaru, walk toward José with a gleam in their eye.

"It seems you made it back safely, oh, great Precursor!" Nyoor trills. "Prraw! How glad I am to see you alive and well! Did your mission prove successful?"

"Haha... in more ways than one," José replies, trying to hide his awkwardness. "I, ah, killed the Kraktol commander for his crimes... and I even made a few new friends!"

Elder Nyoor cocks his head. "Eh? New friends? What do you mean?"

José gestures behind himself, out the entry-way, toward the hangar outside the Slipstream. There, two crocodilian figures lean against one of the Bloodbearer's support beams, as casually as if they were waiting for a bus.

"Who are they?" Elder Nyoor asks. "I do not recognize them."

"Those two are, um... Soren and Megla," José hesitantly explains. "They're my two newest crew members. Also, they're both... Kraktol!"

Elder Nyoor's expression shifts.

A look of fear appears on his face, only to shift into anger.

"Kraktol?! They are the ones who killed my people! Why would you bring two of those monsters here?!"

Matriarch Baaru's eyes light up. "Wait, Nyoor. Perhaps the great Precursor has brought them here so that we may beat and punish them ourselves! We can release our anger upon those who butchered our people!"

Nyoor's eyes ignite with fire. "Yes, my dear. You are right! That must be-"

"No, no," José says, cutting off that line of thought. "Please, hold your anger for a moment."

The Terran drops to one knee so he can better reach Elder Nyoor's level.

"I have good news, Patriarch. The Kessu were not all slaughtered. Many still remain on your homeworld! The Kraktol used all of their fleets to chase after you, thus sparing your world from destruction."

Nyoor nearly jumps out of his fur. "Prraw! Is that true?! Do you mean that we are not the last Kessu?"

José smiles.

"That's right. There are more of your people left. We will have to go back to them once I repair my ship."

Overcome with relief, Nyoor toddles forward and hugs José's knee.

"...Thank you, great Precursor! Thank you! We are forever in your debt!"

"Don't... don't mention it..." José says, lowering his eyes. "I didn't have anything to do with it."

"No, you did," Baaru says, chiding the Terran. "Were it not for you, the Kraktol may have eventually caught us. Once they did, they would have returned to our world to wipe out the rest of our species. The Wind Mother sent you to us as a divine messenger of Her will! You are truly our blessed savior!"

José blushes. "You're too kind. Really. Too kind."

As the Kessu fawn over him and thank José for his deeds, the human sighs deeply within his bones.

Is this, perhaps, the reason I've awakened after all this time? Is this my new role in the galaxy? Did Ramma send me here to save the less fortunate from those who would trample upon them?

The Admiral smiles.

At the least, I can enjoy this one little thing. It's all I have left, after all.