A sleek corvette slid silently through the Nakamura system a few AU from Nakamura II, the system's inhabited world…

...not that anybody noticed.

The ship was designed with stealth as its primary function. While its armament was light, it carried one of the deadliest payloads in the galaxy…

Its crew.

Each member of the vessel was a member of Task Force Omega, the "final word". While they might have been originally human, now they were something…

...more.

Whenever the Republic was asked anything about them, even their existence, the reply was always the same.

"Next question, please."

Their uniforms had no designation, no rank, and no name. The only marking any of the mottled gray uniforms had was a single letter and a three-digit number, the exact meaning of which was unknown to anyone save their own kind.

It was said that they all were officially "dead" and had no identification, that their genetic identifiers had been scrubbed from any official database other than theirs, but even that was conjecture.

Nobody truly knew for sure.

On it, the entire crew, save for a single watchstander on the bridge, had assembled in the main cargo bay/staging area.

A gray-haired man entered the bay, and everyone ceased their quiet conversations and looked at him expectantly.

"Good afternoon, operators," he said with a slight smile. "I have requested your attendance today to address concerns many of you have voiced concerning our current assignment. I will be perfectly honest. I am not happy about this one, either. Protecting the Republic from some of our own is never a pleasant duty."

He paused as he slowly paced the bay.

"This is further compounded by the greater situation surrounding our orders. All of us have been briefed concerning the actions and plans of Red Phoenix and Patricia Hu, as well as the actions and activities of Jon Wintersmith and his associates. We also all have our own opinions of who is in the right and who is in the wrong. However, the moment Wintersmith directed strikes in the Barnard's Star system, he bore arms against the Republic. Regardless of his motives, regardless of whether or not many of us, including myself, feel about the rightness or wrongness of his actions when he did so, he became a threat."

He put his hands in his pockets and sighed.

"We all also know our 'noble' Prime Minister all too well. I have little doubt that our orders are in no small part politically motivated. She might be as evil as Jessica Morgan herself, but I have absolute confidence in my belief that she has the stability and security of the Republic as her primary interest… Or at the very least, it's one of her interests anyway…."

He paused as the bay broke out into rueful chuckling.

"We protect the Republic and its interests," he continued, "we do not determine what those interests are. The moment that we or any other portion of the military does that, we become a greater threat to the Republic than any other. We are soldiers, and we follow our orders. When we each made the decision to leave our previous roles and our previous lives and dedicate ourselves to Omega, we accepted the fact that our orders may be, at times, questionable. This is one of those times. We have our orders, and I will follow them. I respectfully ask that you do the same."

He paused again, collecting his thoughts.

"However, we aren't simple robots, and the phrase, 'I was just following orders,' has echoed throughout some of the darkest times in our history. While we are obliged to follow our orders, even those of us engaged in more… murky… theaters of operation should question orders we believe are suspect. I commend those of you who have come forward to do just that. I have sought additional verification and clarification of our orders, and I truly believe that they are valid. I hate it. I wish it wasn't the case, but our orders have merit. Both Patricia Hu and Jon Wintersmith are actively undertaking actions that undermine the stability and security of the state. Regardless of my personal feelings concerning him thus far, his elimination will go a long way toward restoring that stability. He was behind Gloria Samuels's admittedly brilliant actions in the Barnard's Star system, and now we have solid intel that he is planning an unsanctioned strike on the surface of Nakamura II itself. This simply cannot be allowed. Should he appear, we have orders to eliminate him and his compatriots. Those orders have been submitted for audit and review and have been confirmed to be valid. Are there any questions or concerns?"

The bay was silent.

"That will be all, thank you," he said as he turned and walked out of the bay.

***

At this same time, another ship hurtled through hyperspace.

Another group of warriors sat around a folding table in another cargo bay, surrounded by a haze of smoke and empty bottles.

"So, we are getting set up," Toby said as he sipped a cup of tea.

"Looks that way," Jon replied grimly. "It seems that Fearless Leader has made one of her command decisions."

"Fuck," Skippy hissed, "So much for this being an 'in' with the Republic… The Cabal is gonna be pissed."

"The deal's still good, right?" Beth asked as she shoved her hand into a bag of algae crisps. "They aren't going to fuck me, too, right?"

"Of course," Skippy said, "After this is done, your obligations to us are fully met… and it looks like those obligations are coming to an end."

"You pulling the plug, Skippy?" Jon asked with concern.

"Jon, the Republic is screwing us… screwing you," she said, "You can't expect me to send Beth and Scales to their deaths over this…."

She sighed, and her ears drooped.

"Jon, I said that I would stand with you until the end, and I still mean it… but this is a death trap. Two Omega corvettes are in Nakamura waiting for us. The Republic doesn't want you just dead. They want you gone… Come with us. The Xvli would love to have all of you."

"Yeah," Beth said, "Or you guys could make some serious bank as mercs, and there is a LOT of the galaxy that the Republic doesn't touch. The second you do a runner, you are no longer a threat. I bet they won't even chase you too much."

"And if the Prime Minister is taking you down," Skippy said, "I bet that Patricia isn't too far behind. We know the Prime Minister's 'clean'… if you can use that word. You've done your duty. All of you have. Just let it go and come with me…."

She looked at Jon and let out a little sigh.

"I know that look," she said, "You're not letting this go, are you?"

"Goddamn right, I'm not," Jon said, "I'm not letting her get away with this."

"So," Toby asked, "what are we going to do about it?"

Jon picked up a pipe and fired it up.

He took a long, deep draw, held it, and then let out a slow curl of smoke.

"Beth," he said after a few moments, "I will not send you or my men into a trap. That I promise you. Will you stick with me for just a little longer, please?"

Beth reached for the pipe.

"You going to stick it to the Terrans?"

"Not the Republic," Jon replied, "But a certain withered old Terran fucked with the wrong marines this time. If I haven't figured out something brilliant or at least sufficiently dirty by our next stop, we'll head straight to Xvli space. Deal?"

Beth just smiled and reached for the lighter.

***

"Fooooood baby," Jessie said as she rubbed her belly as the crew lounged around the bridge. "Damn, that was a nice spread!"

"Yeah," Greg sighed as he sipped a cup of coffee, "We might have to start running PT if we stay here too much longer."

"You shut your whore mouth!" Lorna laughed.

"We will have to be careful, though," Mike said as he lay in Lorna's lap. "The food around here is just too good. We'll wind up as fat as porkies in a daycare if we don't watch it."

"Nice people," Harval said, "even with their hang-ups concerning 'certain topics'."

Jessie started giggling.

"Now yew I kin understan'," she said in a church lady voice as she pointed at one of their two new passengers, "but yew are sew pretty!" causing the crew to burst into laughter.

"Whut da Hael wuz dat?!?" the "understandable" lesbian exclaimed as the crew laughed even louder, "Fuk her!"

"Well, I think you are beautiful!" her girlfriend said as she hugged her consolingly.

"Awww…" the crew gushed and laughed some more.

"They seem cool with it, though," Jacob said, "at the very least, they have no problem letting us stay here while the Reaper gets repaired."

"Maybe so, but I still think we should stay on the ship," Harval mused, "and you two don't go anywhere alone, got it?"

"Yes, Harv," Peggy Sue said, still hugging her girlfriend.

"So, where's Sheila, anyway?" Eno asked.

"Oh, Bunny had some 'incredible' super-secret intel she had to share with her," Jessie said, "something that we didn't include with the data we sent Jon… And speak of the Devil!" she added brightly as Sheila walked in and silently walked over to the fridge.

"So," Jessie asked, "What was so super-duper important?"

Sheila just grinned.

"You guys are not going to believe this!"

***

The day had long since ended, but at least one "salaryman" was still hard at work.

Monarch sat at her desk and serenely prepared a cup of tea.

She smiled as she took her first sip.

Things were still going badly, but at least they were stable. It looked like she finally managed to get the conspirators back in Sol to calm down, and that asshole Glenn, who was clearly compromised, had finally stopped trying to 'get everyone together'.

She smirked as she wondered exactly how much longer he would last. As she recalled, people didn't exactly have the longest shelf life after the Zebus got ahold of them.

He had undoubtedly told them everything he knew, which was, well… everything. Their entire plan was now clearly compromised top to bottom, but at least they knew.

She sipped her tea again.

This she could work with. Oh, Patricia and Red Phoenix were done. That much was clear, but that was no longer Monarch's primary concern.

Getting out cleanly and ass-intact was. She wasn't sure exactly how much time she had left, but she was not spending it in a Republic cell or having that time end early, not if she could help it.

She pulled up her latest medical exam and frowned slightly.

It was going to be time for another treatment soon. They were becoming all too frequent these days. Getting her hands on the researchers and their work was now top priority and the only remaining obstacle to a clean break. Once she had turned just a few more of them, she and her new organization could disappear.

And who knows, maybe the Porkies and the Terran researchers they now had working with them just might find a solution to the whole mess.

She doubted it, though. The damage that she and the others had done to themselves was beyond extensive.

Once she grabbed the researchers, she would redirect their efforts towards full brain transplants, what she actually wanted to pursue in the first place. Why refurbish the old body you had been stuck with for nearly two hundred years when you could just grab a fresh, young one?

It couldn't be any harder than putting a brain in a bottle, right?

Apparently, it was, but the initial research did show that it was quite possible, and because of its lack of cellular reproduction, her brain was nearly unaffected by the treatments.

If anything, the brain was the only thing the treatment actually worked on. She literally had the mind of a twenty-year-old. It was everything else that was going to shit.

As she finished her tea, she pulled up all of her assets.

She smiled.

She had done a pretty darn good job of slicing off a nice big piece of Red Phoenix and had several ships crewed with people loyal to her, more than enough to get a start somewhere…

But where?

As she was pondering where they would go, the door to her office opened.

It was Bai.

She wasn't smiling.

"And what do you have for me," Monarch asked pleasantly as her sense of serenity faded. Bai did not look happy.

"I was reviewing our communications logs, Monarch," she said as she handed her a tablet. "I found this."

Monarch scowled as she read the report.

"And what does the good doctor have to say for himself?"

"I haven't questioned him yet," Bai said, "I wanted to inform you immediately."

"Tell no one about this," Monarch said as she stood and reached for her bian. "I shall discuss this with the doctor, personally."

***

"I… I can explain…" a man with a face almost as pale as the lab coat he usually wore stammered as he backed against the wall of his apartment. "I had to break communications silence with the plantation. It was important!"

"I'm all ears, doctor," Monarch purred as she idly swished her bian back and forth, "What would be so important that you would directly contact our most sensitive facility in the entire organization while we are being actively monitored by both the fucking Republic and Wintersmith's hounds?"

The doctor sighed.

"It's… It's about Her Ladyship…"

***

Monarch calmly walked into her office and then shut and locked the door.

Without a word, she sat at her desk.

She reached for her mouse and activated an encrypted hyperspace link.

A few minutes later, a somewhat surprised middle-aged man appeared.

"Monarch?" he asked. "What is so critical that you would contact me directly? This is beyond risky."

"I know about Her Ladyship."

"… I see…"

"Doctor," Monarch said quietly, "You must make a decision right now. Are you with me?"

"… Yes."

"Good," Monarch replied. "I need you to listen to me very carefully…."

***

Outside the ruins of her once beautiful home and dojo, Patrica knelt over the graves of her family with her face in her hands.

It was all her fault.

She wept as she cursed herself. It was true. She had let her family be raped, tortured, and killed.

She had let herself be violated while it all took place simply because she thought she couldn't stop them.

But she could.

She looked at the shattered body of one of the raiders and sobbed.

She had stopped them. She had stopped them all…

Only it was too late.

It took her blacking out for her body to act. But once it did…

She screamed in anguished rage and tore at her hair.

Her lack of courage, her inability to act, and her utter lack of resolve had killed her children… killed her husband…

She raised the pistol she had taken from one of the fallen raiders and pressed the barrel against the side of her head.

There was only one way to atone for this.

She closed her eyes.

No. Not yet, not until you kill them all. Not until you make them feel the same fear, the same pain…

She lowered the pistol and opened her eyes.

"I shall send them all to you, my love…" she whispered. "All of them…."

Cruel laughter pierced the night.

Sitting there on her daughter's grave was a tiny mouse.

"How does it feel to be alone, bitch?" the mouse laughed.

Patricia screamed with rage, raised the pistol, and fired.

The bullet passed through the mouse, leaving it unharmed.

Still laughing, the mouse threw itself at her, biting her abdomen.

Screaming, Patricia flailed at the tiny mouse, but no matter how hard she hit it, the mouse just kept laughing…

...and biting…

...and tearing…

It tore a hole into her side and crawled in, still laughing…

Patricia awoke with a strangled gasp.

She clutched her side, the wound left by Dawn. She had the scar removed, and the tissue regenerated even though her doctors tried to have her leave the shameful mark, but she could still feel it.

She probed the area carefully.

It was nothing that she could clearly identify. It just felt… wrong.

She got up and walked, naked, to the mirror and immediately regretted it.

Her body was flawless, a product of medical technology, the treatment, and decades of training…

But her face…

She looked at her face and despaired. It had become drawn and haggard, with dark shadows around her eyes from stress and lack of sleep.

She sighed.

Is this what Jon saw? Is this why he rejected her?

Of course, he did.

She was ugly. She was so ugly that Jon, the only man she had ever loved, chose to lay with an animal over her.

Wait.

Jon WASN'T the only man she ever loved. She loved her husband, the one true love of her life! She loved him so much… right?

She buried her face in her hands as she tried to compose herself.

Jon had rejected her utterly… humiliated her… he had done the unthinkable and sent that demon against her, wiping away decades of preparations in moments…

He didn't even care enough to come after her himself. He just sent his monster to destroy her while he laughed and rutted with his barnyard pet…

She let out a long shuddering sigh as she lowered her hands from her face.

Wait.

One of her fingers brushed something. It was small. Most would not have noticed, but she did.

Something was definitely amiss.

She raised her hand back to the side of her face and carefully traced the line of her jaw and throat with her fingertips.

Was that a lump?

She shuddered as a mouse's shrill laughter echoed in her mind.

***

The doctor flew across his bedroom and slammed into the wall, his arm breaking.

"Please…" he gasped. "Your Ladyship, please…."

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?!?" she screamed as the doctor tried desperately to crawl away.

"Because he was afraid you would do exactly what you are doing now," Monarch's voice, filled with scorn, said from behind her.

Patricia, her eyes burning with rage, whirled to glare at her.

"In his defense," she smirked, "he did try to warn you. Tissue regeneration is an incredibly stupid thing for anybody suffering from our condition. In your case, after the poorly treated injury, all of the basic repair nanites, and hasty shipboard treatments, it was doubly so. For the injured areas, all of that forced regrowth meant that they effectively aged years relative to the rest of you. For your wound, it was the same as skipping years of treatments…."

Monarch sneered at her.

"My Lady," she said as she drew her bain, "you were most likely dying before you ever returned to us, but your insistence on cosmetic regeneration ensured it."

"You knew?!?" Patricia hissed as she advanced toward Monarch, the doctor forgotten.

"Only for a few hours," Monarch said idly as she assumed a ready stance. "I discovered that the doctor broke communications discipline and contacted the plantation earlier tonight. When I questioned him, he told me why. He was seeking advice from the creators of our doom in an attempt to develop a treatment for your little issue. It's metastasized and is devouring you from the inside as we speak. My Lady," Monarch sneered, "Oh, there are things they can and likely will do, but all of it will only delay the inevitable. Nanites can hunt down and remove tumors and corrupted tissue, but every corrupted cell they excise will be replaced by another corrupted cell, and another tumor will happen tomorrow."

Monarch laughed a cold, bitter laugh.

"You were killed the moment that marine stabbed you. She just decided to be especially cruel about it. I regret never meeting her. I would have liked to have shaken her hand."

Monarch laughed again.

She was laughing at her!

Patricia screamed and lunged at Monarch, who just leaped away, still laughing.

"Careful, My Lady," she taunted, "Any injury you receive will only further complicate matters."

The steel bain in her hand moved hungrily, the light reflecting off of its facets.

Patricia stopped. Monarch was right. She couldn't use tissue regeneration anymore. All of their modern medicine was now useless. Anything that Monarch did to her would be permanent.

"Anyhow," Monarch smiled, "I wanted to be the one to give you the news. I just wanted to see the expression on your face… yes…." Monarch purred, "That one."

"I will have you killed for this!" Patricia snarled.

"Oh dear," Monarch gasped, "I guess I am as doomed as you are, then."

With a chuckle, Monarch strode from the room.

***

Patricia stormed down the hall, her robe flying open.

"Marrow!" she shouted into her communicator.

There was no answer.

"Bai!" she screamed.

Again, there was no reply.

Snarling, she contacted the security office.

Nobody answered.

A cold chill gripped Patricia as she changed direction and sprinted toward Marrow's quarters.

The halls were empty.

Where was everyone?

A body lying in the corridor before her soon provided her with the answer.

Jackal!

She rushed to her retainer's side.

He was dead, his skull shattered by a single blow from a blunt object, Monarch's bian.

"Marrow!" she cried as she blindly sprinted down the hall.

She froze at his open doorway.

Lying there, with a single gunshot wound to the head, was her Marrow.

"No!" she cried in anguish as she ran to him, cradling him in her arms.

There was no sign of struggle. He had been gunned down the moment he trustingly opened the door.

She kissed his cheek, buried her face in his chest, and wept.

***

"Well," Monarch smiled as she lounged in the command chair of a small yacht, "at least that went smoothly."

She turned to Bai, who was manning the navigation console.

"Nicely done," she said.

Bai smiled.

"I studied the masters," she replied, not looking up from the controls, "The modern ones."

"Oh?"

"During the recent capture of The White Star, Sheila Donovan used the ship's own damage control and fire suppression systems to kill the ship's security forces and most of the crew. It worked for us as well as it worked for them… I do confess that I am not quite as bloodthirsty as they are, though. Many still live, simply trapped behind pressure doors. I found that I… I apologize, Monarch. It's just that I've known some of them for so long…."

"Nothing to apologize for," Monarch replied, "We were able to board our people and leave the station with no casualties. In fact, I'm actually grateful that you spared so many. As you said, they were our comrades."

Monarch smiled.

"You impress me, Bai," she said, "I did not know you were a hacker."

"It was our own system," Bai replied, "It hardly counts as hacking when you have admin privileges. Suzy Cui and Gregory Archer assisted with the more technical aspects."

"I am not familiar with them," Monarch said, "They some of yours?"

"Yes," Bai replied. "They are solid, good 'salarymen,' as you would say. They will serve us well."

"Excellent," Monarch smiled. "It's good to know that there will be people to continue our organization should we fall."

They flew in silence for a short time.

"Monarch?"

"Yes, Bai?"

"Why didn't you kill her?" she asked, "You had the chance."

"I had the chance to fight her," Monarch replied. "Her illness has not progressed nearly far enough for victory to be certain. Right now, she is as dangerous as she has ever been. I did not see the need to take the risk."

Monarch smiled viciously.

"Besides, she is still useful."

"She is?"

"Yes," Monarch smiled, her holographic tattoos fluttering in the light, "she is going to go completely and utterly bugshit crazy. The mess she kicks up will be a good distraction for the Republic and others while we make good our escape. The second she falls, they will immediately turn to cleaning up any loose ends. As one of those loose ends, it serves us to delay that as long as possible. She is as good as dead. Either the Republic will get her, Jon Wintersmith will get her, or she will simply rot from the inside. There is no need for us to get involved. We have far more important things with which to concern ourselves."

She idly started tapping at her control screen.

"Speaking of," she continued, "have we heard from the plantation yet?"

"Not yet, ma'am," Bai replied, "However we have solid people in place, and they are running silent. I can only assume no news is good news… hopefully."

"Hopefully," Monarch replied. "Getting those assets and any researchers that will follow us is vital if we want to avoid… (scoff) Her Ladyship's fate. Hopefully, we can get them out before the consequences of the good doctor's indiscretion comes home to roost."

"If we can't?"

"Then we start over," she replied. "I don't know about you, but I am not one to just lay down and die. We have the research already downloaded. Getting some of the talent would be wonderful, but if necessary, we can adapt. We can always get more researchers. In fact, start identifying some good candidates. It is doubtful that we will turn everyone. We will need additional staff."

"I will start as soon as I have the coordinates laid in for our jump."

"Thank you," Monarch smiled. "I'm truly happy that you decided to join me."

"Me, too," Bai said, her eyes gleaming with admiration and devotion. "…Jump calculations are complete. Jumping in five… four… three…."

Monarch smiled as the ship entered hyperspace. She was finally free, and there was a whole galaxy to plunder as they once did Sol.

And this time, she was going to do it properly.

She didn't know how long she had, but she knew from the bottom of her heart that she would truly enjoy the days, months, or years she had left.