A few moments of silence follow as the Mallali's most hated and feared enemy, the last living Precursor, spins through the air and crashes against the floor. An explosion of blood and gore rips through the area. With his entire lower body missing and half of his left side, including his left arm, plus an extreme amount of damage suffered to his face and chest, the Terran's corpse appears a sorry sight.

Even Loreen momentarily winces when she gets a good look at the damage.

"Kyargh! How gruesome!"

The Kraktol's Thülvik starts to stride toward her fallen adversary, only for her eyes to narrow to slits. She whips her head to the left, where two of the unstoppable Protectorates advance on her position.

KZZAT! KZZAT!

Explosively powerful bolts of electricity crash against Loreen's demonstone armor. Momentarily alarmed, she quickly raises her arms to protect her face, having already witnessed the devastation these automatons can unleash. However, to her delight, the bolts of electricity don't hurt her at all! In fact, her armor's aura increases slightly, swallowing the electricity greedily. As a remnant artifact of a fallen Demon Emperor, one associated with the element of lightning, the Protectorate's attacks only serve to empower its magical abilities.

"Kyargh! Is that the best you can do?! Weak little worms!"

She stomps toward the Protectorates, while they continue to bombard her with ineffective lightning blasts. Just before she reaches them, the two sword-wielding Protectorates appear, both of them appearing identical to the fallen Admiral as well.

A hurricane of blades falls upon Loreen. They slash and cut her armor, trying to rip through her nearly invulnerable demonstone with their serrated blades. Sadly, even with their awesome strength, the Protectorates don't manage to chip her defenses even the tiniest bit.

"Equally pathetic!" Loreen roars. She swings her fist at the chest of one of the blade-wielding Protectorates, sending it crashing to the deck. She follows up with a blast of magically-empowered lightning, fizzling the automaton until it shuts down. The holographic projection fades away, revealing its inner metallic orb. When the orb falls to the floor, Loreen stomps down, crushing it to bits!

With one of the five Protectorates destroyed, the other three continue hammering their opponent. However, as killing machines designed for rapidly eliminating vast swathes of weak infantry, their inability to deal with a highly armored elite comes back to bite them.

The final Protectorate, upon receiving a distress signal from its three remaining brethren, pops up from atop one of the catwalks. Having traveled there to obtain an elevated sniping position, it aims its photonic sniper rifle at Loreen's helmet.

BLAM!

This time, a cannonball-like impact crashes against Loreen's armor, visibly stunning her. She stumbles to the side, momentarily dazed, before another shot hits her!

BLAM!

And another!

BLAM!

With mechanical precision, the sniping Protectorate blasts Loreen's demonstone helmet, using its sheer impact power to jar her senses and knock her out. Luckily, for Loreen's sake, as a combatant from countless wars, she quickly raises her arms to shield her head, groggily cursing as the impacts continue landing on her shoulders and elbows.

"Kyargh! Bloody bolt-brains! You won't kill this royal!"

With the pressure relieved from her deadliest attacker, Loreen completely ignores the other three Protectorates. Their electrical attacks only empower her, while the blades don't pose even a modicum of danger. Loreen darts forward, enhancing her body with the power of lightning. She momentarily enhances her speed, rushes beneath the catwalks, and pounces toward the photonic Protectorate.

The machine's eyes follow her movement. It fires off two shots, but she blocks them with her arms, lands atop the catwalk, and rushes forward.

Kzzat! Thunk!

Loreen zaps and crushes the Protectorate, turning its core into a mess of metal and electronic particles. A minute later, she finishes off the other three as well.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Loreen glances around the hangar, checking for other threats. What she instead sees causes her to frown.

"Ugh. Soren."

The Bloodbearer's First Officer kneels beside José's corpse, sputtering emotionally as she injects him with nanites and other healing solutions.

"José! José, please! Wake up! You have to live! You have to!"

Momentarily fearing the Terran's revival, Loreen stomps toward Soren and raises her hand.

Whap!

She backhands the younger Kraktol, sending her flying away from the Terran.

"Stupid child! Your hero has fallen! There's nothing left for him but the afterlife!"

Just to be sure, Loreen double-checks José's body. She scans him with her armor's sensors, then nods in satisfaction as several results pop up.

Body temperature: Sub-optimal, rapidly cooling.

Heart-rate: None.

Pulse: None.

Brain activity: None.

Loreen checks several other stats before turning to Soren, who gazes at her in horror.

"Finally. He's dead. It's better this way. Someday, you'll thank me."

Loreen snorts derisively, looking at the child Drall once praised with complete scorn.

"You murdering monster!" Soren cries. "You killed him! You killed my Admiral! You killed José!! He only wanted peace! He saved the galaxy from the Kolvaxian, and you spit in his face!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, and I don't care," Loreen snarls. She glances at a group of nearby Kraktol and Mallali. "You there! What are you doing, standing around with your claws up your bums? Subdue this brat and take her prisoner! She may yet have the access codes we need!"

Soren's eyes widen in alarm. Suddenly realizing the uses she might have for her captors, she fumbles for a gun at her side. Before she can succeed in killing herself, a dozen enemies pounce on her and strip her naked, pulling away every weapon and gadget on her person.

Some of the recently arrived soldiers, however, keep a healthy distance from the fallen Terran. They look at him with wary eyes, as if afraid he might bite them.

"I-is he really d-dead, my Thülvik?" One of the male Kraktol asks.

"Kyargh! Of course he is, you shivering pansy!" Loreen bellows. "When did your scales turn soft? Get this fellow in a cryo-unit. I'll have plenty of uses for him on Dragua."

Loreen smiles evilly.

Yes. Once I run his brain through my synthmind scanner, I should be able to extract all sorts of useful information. But the Mallali don't need to know about that.

Just as Loreen's elation reaches its peak, a Dakkit officer strides over.

"Hey! Kraktol Matriarch! The Alfras would like to have a word with you!"

His tone, full of condescension and derision, gives off the impression that he doesn't care one iota about Loreen's battle accomplishments. After all, the better-equipped Mallali would have eventually captured the Terran, perhaps even alive.

And how could he ever show deference to a lower-class Rodak? Such a thought never crosses his mind.

Loreen pauses to stare at the Dakkit officer. She memorizes his face, then smiles sweetly.

"I see. That old hound always needs to flap his gums. I suppose now is as good a time as ever."

A hovering transmission droid levitates before Loreen. It pops up a projection of the Alfras, Benjiro, along with several of his allies. They sit at a lavish table surrounded with food, yet not one of them touches their meals.

"Loreen!" Benjiro roars. "You have some explaining to do! Grawf! I saw what happened to my son! We had a deal! You were supposed to protect him!"

Loreen crosses her arms and blinks innocently.

"Oh, gosh! Jeez, I am so sorry, Benny-boy. You know how it is, kyargh! I turned my head for one second and your cute little puppy got himself killed! I just couldn't react in time!"

"Don't give me that crap!" The Alfras barks. "Grawf! There's no way you wouldn't have finished off that Rodak while he was down! And what about those holo-bots? You crushed them to pieces! How are we supposed to reverse-engineer them now?!"

Loreen makes a big, exaggerated shrugging motion.

"Terribly sorry about that, Little Ben-Ben. They were threatening my life, and you saw the damage those machines dealt to all your meatshiel- I mean, your brave soldiers. I didn't dare take a risk with those automatons breathing down my back."

The Alfras forces himself to calm down. He nods slowly at Loreen, seeing through her words.

"Yes, yes, very clever, Loreen. We have classified those automatons as Type III weapons, so I will be taking an equivalent amount of their value from your cut. As for my son... there is nothing you can offer that will replace my heir! I raised him to take over my seat someday, and now he's dead! What recompense can you offer, hmm?! We had a deal!"

Loreen rolls her eyes. "Oh, Benjamin, you are such a bore. So what if the brat died? Just raise another. Besides, I never thought he looked much like you. Say, did your mate possibly...?"

"Your words are poison!" Benjiro barks. "My mate is faithful! Treacherous Rodak! Sling all the insults you want, but-"

"I was just joking," Loreen interrupts. "Ancestors, guide me. Isn't it time for you to end this farce? Your son is still alive, great Alfras. I checked him earlier, and he still had a heartbeat! Tell your medics to stop wagging their tails and save him, already!"

Loreen turns away from the Terran's body. She strides across the hangar and gestures at the Alfras's son. The transmission droid follows behind her as she scans his body and uploads the data to the Alfras. A series of readings appear, indicating a faint heartbeat and minor brain activity within Maximillian's body.

"See? He's alive, you idiot! If you actually gave a damn, you'd have told your hounds to get over here and put him on a stretcher!"

Benjiro's eyes widen. He quickly turns to someone else in the room. "H-he is! Grawf! Get the medical corps over there, on the double!"

"Yes sir!" Comes the answer.

Not long after, a horde of Dakkit and other Mallali converge on Maximillian's position. They inject him with several healing solutions and gingerly place his broken and shattered body onto a cryo-stretcher before zipping away.

Loreen shakes her head.

"You are such a sad excuse for a father, Benji-pup. You had your mutts so focused on the Terran's allies and weapons that you simply assumed your son was dead. What would your citizens think if they knew their leader was such a heartless dimwit?"

Benjiro leans back in his seat. With his son confirmed alive, even if just barely, his mood improves drastically, making him much more calm.

"Grawf. Shut your mouth. The fact remains that you were supposed to protect my boy, but didn't. Now he'll need several years of medical treatment before he returns to his former glory."

Loreen laughs. "Kyargh! Oh, that is true! But then again..."

Her smile instantly vanishes, replaced instead with a look of bloodlust.

"...perhaps he should have known better than to provoke a superior Kraktol."

For a brief instant, Benjiro and all the other Mallali suck in their breaths. Despite their overwhelming technological advantage and mighty war-fleets, something in the Thülvik's gaze frightens them on a primal level.

Loreen maintains her blood-curdling glare for three seconds, before turning away.

"Now. Let's discuss the spoils."

She trots over to the fallen Terran. With Soren having already been hauled away, a swarm of Mallali and Kraktol descend upon the Admiral's body as they comb him over from head to toe with scanners and fluidic preservation equipment.

"I want the Terran." Loreen says.

"As do we all," Says Leevoo, the Gelkor Merchant Queen. "Mlerp! You may have defeated the Terran, but his body possesses all manner of secrets. We intend to examine him in great detail."

Loreen crosses her arms. "Fifty percent."

"Hm?" Leevoo grunts.

"I am willing to give up fifty percent of the spoils for his body. I could use a trophy for my mantle. I slew him, so he is mine."

Loreen keeps her expression even. She glances at the hovering droid apathetically, as if this is only a simple matter in her eyes.

The Alfras, having recovered from Loreen's earlier display of authority, leans forward. "Grawf. Impossible. We must examine the Terran from head to toe. You cannot have him."

"Now, hold on..." Leevoo says. Her eyes widen as she considers Loreen's offer. "Fifty percent? That is quite the sizable amount of salvage. All of that for a mere trophy?"

"It is my people's custom," Loreen says. "When we kill a terrifying foe, we mount their bodies for others to see. I am willing to grant you a period of time to perform tests, but you must place his body under stasis while you do so. I want him in pristine condition before I stuff and mount him on my mantle. Is fifty percent of my salvage not enough for you, you greedy Mallali?"

Loreen frowns at the Mallali, as if annoyed they would stand in the way of her people's customs.

However, internally, she begins to sweat.

I must obtain the Terran's body. If the Mallali hold onto him for too long, his brain will decay. Forget fifty percent of the salvage, I'd give up one hundred percent in an instant! The trinkets on this ship aren't worth a millionth the value of the knowledge in the good Admiral's head. However, if I made such an offer, the Mallali would surely question my intentions. I cannot give them any hints!

Her secret weapon, the facility beneath Dragua where she can turn dead and living brains into synthminds, gives Loreen assurances unlike any other.

Soren alone will net me a hefty amount of information. Once I extract her knowledge and combine it with the Terran's, my people will leap forward to the peak of the 50th Era! These stupid Mallali will never understand the depths to which I've cheated them!

She flicks her eyes toward Grundle's corpse.

Heh heh heh... and since the Admiral has successfully empowered one of my people with his augmentations, I can examine Grundle to learn how to extend my own life, as well as all the rest of the Kraktol! With a quantum leap forward in technological and biological superiority, the Kraktol will soon seize power over the entire Milky Way!

Loreen forces herself to remain calm. Her impassive expression provides no clues for the Mallali.

"Tsk. What a grotesque culture..." Leevoo grunts. As an herbivore, she finds Loreen's carnivorous predilections detestable. "But... for fifty percent of the salvage... I say we agree, Benjiro. However! We get first pickings!"

Loreen scrunches up her face. "I want one of the giant battlesuits. You saw the damage they dealt to the Buzor when they attacked Veter."

"No." Leevoo says, putting her foot down. Her merchant greed quickly takes over. "We will take all of the giant battlesuits! What good would Type V technology do a primitive society such as yours, anyway? Better to keep it safely in the paws of those who know how to use it!"

Loreen scowls. "I'm generously giving you fifty percent! We will proceed according to the original distribution of assets!"

"If we don't get first pickings, you don't get your nasty, bloody 'trophy'!" Leevoo counters.

Loreen winces, appearing taken aback. "But..."

The Alfras frowns. Something about Loreen's expression gives him a sinking feeling in his gut. However, her acting appears so flawless that he can't imagine a good counter reason why she would want the Precursor's body.

After all, so long as the Mallali get to take tissue samples and scan him from head to toe, they will surely reap more from his corpse than the primitive and backward Kraktol, who possess significantly inferior technology.

He finally growls. "Take it or leave it, Loreen. No tricks. Fifty percent, and we get first pickings. In exchange, you can take the Terran's corpse home after we examine it."

Loreen sighs in defeat. "...Fine. Fine! You lot are the worst of scavengers!"

Benjiro leans back in his seat. "This concludes our negotiations. I will dispatch my officers to... monitor the situation."

Loreen scowls at him. "I don't need a babysitter."

"Perhaps not, but I wouldn't want another 'accident' to happen," Benjiro says, his eyes darkening.

A moment later, his projection winks off. The communication droid hovers away, leaving Loreen to her thoughts.

The Kraktol's Thülvik stares into the distance, trying desperately to keep her smug, satisfied grin hidden.

Heh heh heh. Those stupid Mallali. Those absolute fools. Not only are they greedy to a fault, but lazy and predictable too.

She slowly lowers her head to gaze at the fallen Terran.

Rylon's Shipyards could give my people a vast leg up over the Mallali. The only reason we produce Third-Era ships is because we lack detailed schematics and design documents for more advanced vessels. But once I extract the most useful information from this cadaver's brain, my people's rise will become assured.

She folds her claws behind her back, then scowls at one of her Kraktol minions.

"You! What are you doing? Stop playing with the Terran's innards! Scoop them back into his body and get him inside a cryo-container, immediately! If his body begins to degrade, I'll impale you and your entire family on stakes! Right through your rumps! Then I'll leave you to die atop a mountain!"

The Kraktol soldier pales under Loreen's blistering words. "Y-yes, my Thülvik!"

Loreen watches him for a moment before turning away.

"Idiots, the whole lot of them."

...

Across the Bloodbearer's hangar, a female Kraktol sits naked in chains, with her one arm tied to her waist. A slave collar wraps around her neck, preventing her from moving, or most importantly, from taking her own life.

This prisoner, Soren Mudrose, stares emptily at her Admiral's body.

"José... José.... how could it come to this? How could you die? You were supposed to win. Now everyone's dead... I'm the only one left... the only one."

Tears slide down her face. She chokes and sobs while the other nearby Kraktol barely glance at her, only sneering in disgust.

"Look at those tears," One female grunts. "It seems she and the Terran were more than master-subordinate."

Another female laughs gutturally. "Just like that pitiful bitch, Sapphire. At least Soren isn't a blob of blood stuck to the floor! We'll have to clean for hours to scrape what's left of that blue-scaled whore off the deck!"

"You get the first round of scrubbing!" The previous speaker says. "Too slow!"

"Screw you! Fine, but you get to scrape the hardened blood off after I finish!"

The two of them walk away, laughing to themselves over the fates of their sisters, both of whom fell for the Terran's charm.

Soren cries even harder. The realization that Sapphire died hits her like a sack of bricks. The further realization that all of the Kessu and Kraktol have perished causes her even deeper emotional trauma.

Meanwhile, at the Admiral's body, a pair of Dakkit and a pair of Kraktol wrap their claws around his corpse.

"Watch your paws, idiots!" One of the Kraktol snaps, shooting a fearful look at his distant Thülvik. "If you drop him, we're dead meat!"

"Relax," One of the two Dakkit medics says. "I don't get squeamish around blood, unlike you."

"Graugh! I'm not squeamish about the blood!" The Kraktol snaps. "If you drop the Terran, you'd better be ready for the Thülvik to shit molten fire down your fur!"

That shuts the Dakkit medic up. He, too, glances backward at Loreen Kindris, breathing a faint sigh when he realizes she isn't looking his way.

"Okay, let's get him in the cryo-container..." The Dakkit says. He and the other Dakkit grab José's shoulders, while the two Kraktol wrap their claws around the Terran's spilling-out innards. On the count of three, the four medics begin to heft the Terran upward.

"Ready! One, two..."

Just as they all start to heave, one of the Kraktol falters, failing to lift his side.

"What are you doing?!" The other Kraktol snaps. "Don't drop him!"

The Kraktol not pulling his weight, however, stares in alarm at the Terran's body.

"H-hey! Guys! GUYS! W-what's going on?!"

The other three follow his gaze.

There, they see something that frightens them out of their wits.

The Terran's right hand, his lone remaining limb, grips the Kraktol's wrist.

And then...

...it squeezes.