Salt is another tricky one. Humans have been using it maybe even longer than iron. Sodium and chlorine, a tale as old as time of mismatched opposites that are strong together. Salt was the ultimate cleaner, the ultimate purifier. Food packed in salt could last months or even years longer that food left in the open. It became a cornerstone of human culture; salt cleans and protects. It kept away disease, it kept away decay, and that belief of fourteen thousand years of Terrans made a strong impression on their psychic beliefs, and their shades.

It isn’t all superstition; there’s science too. Sodium is incredibly reactive, and if you don’t believe me just ask a glass of water. It bonds spontaneously with almost anything and will rip molecules apart to do it. And yet terrans have it in their blood to make their supercharged nervous system work properly. Chlorine is a corrosive devil that they know almost as well; Their alchemists (note: An alchemist Age of Ideas scholar practicing in the study of prenanotech magic) mixed chlorine with almost everything to try to unlock the forces of creation. Chlorine was what they used to dissolve anything they needed to study.

So you have ultimate purity mixed with ultimate destruction in a clear/white crystal that humans love to eat. The primal forces of chemistry, barely contained by a simple ionic bond. And for fifteen THOUSAND years they’ve believed it was pure. Mined it, boiled it, eaten it, been paid with it, fought wars over it. Salt built nations and toppled empires. Salt kept death at bay and sustained them when nothing else could. Salt even bends WATER to its will and gives us that lower freezing point that keeps the mix smooth and creamy. Why does salt work on shades? Because even in death the shades remember there’s one thing that can’t be corrupted.

They remember. And they respect it.

-Seamus Kik’nik’ilitik, Treana’d exobioconfectioner, 2nd Lieutenant in 56th Horde Kitchen Division. -Memoirs of the 3rd Phasic War-

**TEXT ONLY MESSAGE FOLLOWS**

**EMERGENCY BROADCAST FOR [HEADER CORRUPT] AREA**

**TEXT ONLY DO NOT PLAY SOUND OR VIDEO ATTACHMENTS UNLESS FROM A TRUSTED SOURCE**

--Attached are several text files for identifying sound systems and methods of initiating a factory reset. Upon factory reset, login and password should (95% of the time) default to Admin/password.

"Remember this, this can save your life.

"The Terran shades are, for some reason, sodium-chloride hesitant.

"A circle of salt can keep them from reaching you. Salt across the doorway will keep them from entering. Oddly enough, while TPS's (Terran Phasic Shades) have been documented as moving through walls, a single line of salt across a doorway seems to make the TPS's unwilling to move through the walls.

"Salt thrown through a shade will cause them to dissolve for up to ten minutes. Use that time wisely and run.

"Some reports are saying that a pinch of salt or iron thrown on the shade, causing them to dissolve, should be followed by drawing a circle of salt around the location, meaning the shade will reform inside the barrier, preventing it from moving. Experiments with this have had mixed results.

"Salt infused water does not prevent them from crossing the water. However, TPS do not seem to like water that much.

"Paint infused with iron and/or sodium-chloride seems to be effective in keeping the TPS from crossing through a wall.

"The color red seems to keep the TPS at bay. Nobody is sure why. Some say it has to do with the fact it is the same color as TDH blood, others point at the very specific wavelength, and still others just say its the malevolent universe laughing at us all.

"And lastly: This event is survivable. You can survive. You can stay alive. Do not lose hope.

"If you can hear this, stay alive. That's my message to you. Stay. Alive.

"Use text. Stay informed. Stay alive.

"Ave Imperator." - Recorded Broadcast from the front Lines of Iron Piglet; Journalist unknown (Presumed Killed in Action, remains unrecovered, file header damaged)

Captain Tut'el knew that his career would be one of careful risks, estimated rewards, and slow movement through the ranks, with an eventual retirement in sensible luxury and comfort. He had his combat ticket punched, he had his tour with a combat arms unit, and he had his time in the war zones.

As a Captain, he should have had clear sailing for an undistinguished and easily overlooked career that would go fifteen or twenty years, exceeding the minimum retirement time of ten years.

He had been assigned to a Maintenance Brigade. Not a command slot, he had that under his belt, but a staff slot, where he just handled the logistics.

There was no shame in logistics. Not to the Telkan people.

Logistics had saved their planet as much as force of arms and the Telkan people knew it.

Captain Tut'el had gone in with an imagination full of glory. By the time he was done with his Advanced Officer's Training he had lost all his notions of glory and battle and had decided that he would prefer to have a relatively unnoticeable career followed by a quiet life.

For the most part, he had slightly worked to make sure he didn't cross paths with Major Vuxten when he found out The Warfather was in the same Regiment as he was.

It had, largely, worked.

But all of that was gone.

"Here, let me check your back plate," the Warfather said, leaning forward between the two front seats.

Captain Tut'el leaned forward and felt Major Vuxten tug on the plates, then the straps, then slam both fists down, one on each shoulder plate.

"Should be good," the Warfather said. "Bit.nek?"

The driver just grunted, leaning forward. Captain Tut'el looked real quick over the armor, nodding. The Major just reach back and pulled forward a collar, the material still 'steaming' as quantum fog oozed off the wetly gleaming material. The Major handed it to Tut'el, who leaned over and locked it around the Private's neck.

"We're about to enter the city," the Private said.

Tut'el looked out the window, something he had been avoiding.

The city beyond was burning. The repairs on the cities of the planet had been going for several months, with citizens of the city having left the shelters to try to resume some form of life after the Atrekna attack and the Confederate counter-attack.

Now, it was burning.

"Hitting the lights," the Private said. He shifted his foot, stomping on a switch.

The light was amber.

Shades flinched back from it, allowing the high mobility wheeled vehicle to get through the gap before they could swarm back.

The vehicle bumped and thudded as it ran over still bodies in the road.

Captain Tut'el wanted to tell the Private to watch out for the civilian bodies.

But he knew it wouldn't matter.

The civilians were dead.

"Mile down this road, then we'll have to take a right," the Major said. He had a dataslate out and was consulting a map of the city. It was using the inertial mapping system rather than GPS.

Like Tut'el, the Major and Bit.nek had disabled their retinal links and the picture in picture feature.

The smoke quickly got thick. Tut'el could smell the smell of burning flesh as well as burning insulation and burning fireproof foam.

The Major continued talking. "Then I'll give directions. Hopefully the Civil Defense Administration Offices have access to the Emergency Broadcast System," the Major said. He tapped the screen a few times. "Once we get in... of course they put the system control in the basement."

"Any survivors there, Major?" the Private asked.

"471's tried ringing the phone banks, but all he gets is the VI's and the eVI's," Captain Tut'el said.

"What are they saying?" the Private said, then swore and pulled hard on the wheel, skidding around a wreck that came looming out of the darkness and smoke.

"They're just screaming," Tut'el said. He picked up the sawed off pump action shotgun off the floor, checking the chamber real quick.

Salt crystal and iron pellet rounds.

The Private swore, then pumped the brakes, turning the wheel.

"We're about to test the theory!" the Private yelled.

Tut'el looked up just in time to see the front end of the vehicle level out and the Private gun the engine. In front of the vehicle was a swarm of shades that were all milling around the street. Dozens, hundred of shades were all milling around, most of them looking down, their arms hanging down loosely.

Oddly enough, Tut'el realized that on the big Tri-Vid 2.5D screens on the side of the road, in a shop window, was a newcast showing a parking lot.

And a pair of eVI's on their knees screaming.

Tut'el's attention was pulled back to the road and he inhaled sharply, putting one hand on the roof and pushing hard, like it would stop anything bad from happening.

The front end hit the massed shades.

Ectoplasm splattered over the vehicle as the salt and iron encrusted vehicle grill guard slammed into them. A few managed to scream, one or two tried to claw at the hood for a second, but the majority of them just vanished with a puff of smoke and a spray of ectoplasm.

Tut'el let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"We're clear for a second or two," the Private said. He gave a big whooping inhale and exhale. "Thought we were boned," he pointed on the floor. "Hand me a bottle, Captain."

Tut'el nodded, reaching down and grabbing two bottles from the case on the floor. The seperators clacked as the bottles moved down to fill the gap. The nutriforge jury-rigged onto the case hissed and two cold bottles pushed out, filling the compartments of the case.

Tut'el knocked the cap off one, handing it to Bit.nek, then knocked the cap off the second one and almost defiantly took a long drink.

"Hand one back, with the cap," the Major said.

Tut'el nodded, pulling a bottle out.

The bottles clinked, the nutriforge hissed.

Tut'el saw the Major pulled the cap off, pour some beer in it, and hand the cap back to where the green mantid, 471, was working with a cracked creation engine and a hastily put together commo board.

Twice more the vehicle roared its way through a group of shades. Tut'el looked in the mirror and noticed that the shades didn't pursue the vehicle, just flickered back into existence and kept shuffling around.

"They look so pathetic it's hard to believe they're so dangerous," Tut'el said softly.

"Terrans are a lot more dangerous than they look, not surprising even dead they're dangerous," the Major said.

"Landmine don't look none too dangerous till ya step on it," the Private grunted. He suddenly reached up and touched his datalink. "Cindy says she just ran over the ansible link. Red paint is holding. She's pulling back to base."

The Major nodded. "Tell her I'll be tossing you a coordinate, I want her to go there, destroy the dishes. If they're on top of the building," the Major paused for a second. "Then bring down the building. We've got to cut the uplinks."

The Private nodded.

Tut'el clenched his toes in his boots.

When all this is over, when I survive this, I will request something much more calm, like an artillery unit or maybe Special Forces Q-Course he thought.

-----

LANAKTALLAN GESTALT OF GREAT THOUGHTS

You're talking about severing communication between systems.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS

There might not be any

choice but to do this. They're everywhere.

They're even in our channels.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

HAT WEARING AUNTIE

We HAVE to blow the system. GalNet, the ansibles, everything.

They're everywhere!

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TELKAN FORGE WORLDS

But how will we talk to each other?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

AKLTAK SOARING WORLDS

We'll be going back to couriers again, won't we?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

LANAKTALLAN FREE GRAZING FIELDS

Another breakout.

It's spreading.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS

We've got to blow the system before it spreads to EVERY world!

Once those shades reach that world, it's over. They have won, you have lost, it is their world now.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

RIGELLIAN SAURIAN COMPACT

Not necessarily, I'm getting reports of some people being able to fight back with some

CONFEDMIL

That's it, I'm doing it

////////

LEEBAW CONTEMPLATION POOL

We're blowing our ansible

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

LANAKTALLAN GRAZING FIELD OF FREE THOUGHT

You're talking about silencing the entire galactic arm!

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

HAT WEARING AUNTIE

DO IT!

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

CONFEDMIL

May the Digital Omnimessiah have mercy on our souls.

>CARRIER SIGNAL LOST

-----

Peter looked up, locking eyes with Daxin.

"You need to get our there," Peter said.

"Why?" Daxin asked, standing up.

Peter swallowed.

"The Confederate Military Gestalt just sent out the order for the entire FTL communication network to self-destruct," Peter said.

Legion stood up. "I better go with you."

"Yeah," Daxin said.

**I will go too** FIDO said.

Daxin just reached down and scratched between FIDO's ears.