The appearance of the Yīqún sent chills down Remi’s spine, but he knew what had to be done. “Athena, target the drones!” he shouted frantically. The Troika were still a threat, but as hundreds of thousands, if not more, Yīqún entered the battle zone, he knew they had to refocus their efforts for any of the Terran ships to survive.

“I will attempt to do so,” she responded, “but be advised the Arbeh’Negef… the Yīqún, as you call them… are well aware of the Shaddai’Tzedeq weapons array, both its strengths and its limitations. Its effectiveness will be reduced compared to the previous targets.”

“Every drone you take out is one less we’ll have to face,” he pointed out. “And if you get a clean lock on a Troika ship while you’re at it… take the fucking shot.”

A collective groan was heard on every Terran and Alliance ship as news of the drone’s arrival spread. A battle with the Troika was bad enough, but fighting them and the Yīqún? It was insane. What chance could they have against both enemies? There were many aboard those vessels that argued that they should make a run for it; either straight for New Terra amongst the humans, or pretty much anywhere else with the Alliance. Several captains attempted to do just that, breaking formation as they raced for safety.

Only to be cruelly cut down as the enemy pounced on the singletons, destroyed by both mechanical drones and ambitious, arrogant overlords alike. Without the mutual support of the fleet to protect them, running was nothing more than a quick way to commit seppuku. Which left them with no options… save one.

To fight.

The call went out to every ship, every clan. This was where they would make their final stand, and if Holy Mother Terra smiled upon them, victory would be theirs. If not… then let the universe shudder in fear when any spoke of their battle. If fate had decreed they were to die this day, then honor demanded they take as many of the bastards with them as they could, for the size of their Hellish guard in the afterlife would be determined by the pile of corpses lying dead at their feet.

Humanity bared its fangs and howled with rage, as the galaxy trembled at the sound.

“Valkyries! To me!” Gunnery Sergeant Rúna Aukes barked as they blew the hatch.

“Oorah!” they roared over the comm link, forcing their way into the enemy vessel and racing down the corridor. The hallways were larger than what she was used to, to better fit the oversized reptilian Aggaaddub. She would have been happy boarding any Troika ship, but the lizards held a special place in her heart ever since their attack on Freya, while the battle on Sonoitii Prime had merely solidified that hatred. The Troika had taken from her in ways she could never fully calculate, and she was eager for a little payback.

As her platoon fanned out to clear the deck, she spared a brief glance at the Ixian blade at her hip. With any luck, it would taste enemy blood yet again this day.

“Contact!” Sergeant Becca Sultan shouted, firing at a lizard reaction force emerging from a side passage. Forced to swap their slug throwers for pulse rifles so they could fight in vacuum, she scattered the enemy squad with a few well-placed beams as she took cover.

“Fire in the hole!” Lance Corporal Cipriano Arthur howled over the platoon freq as he fired, launching a high-explosive grenade into the junction where the Aggaaddub were sheltering in place. The round arced over the heads of his fellow Valkyries, detonating against the far bulkhead and sending shrapnel into the huddled mass of bodies. Green blood sprayed as they advanced, only to scramble for cover once more as the enemy regrouped, firing into the hallway as one of their own went down.

“Yendrick!” Rúna shouted, dragging him clear as she checked for injuries, slapping a QuickSeal on his suit to stop the leak.

“Goddamn it, not again,” he swore. “Fucking bastards nailed the prosthetic.”

“Would you rather they shot the good leg?” she grinned, popping up and firing another quick burst before ducking back down once more.

“You know how hard it is to get one that actually fits?” he grumbled, shaking his head. “Go. I’ll cover this passage. Leg’s no use, anyway.”

“Copy that. Cover our six,” she agreed, patting his shoulder as she moved forward. “Arthur! Hit ‘em again!” Their grenadier fired another round, shattering the defenders.

“First platoon! Forward!” she roared, as they headed for engineering.

“Are the transmitters in place?”

“They’re ready,” Raven confirmed, “and we’ve got authorizations from the Alliance fleet and our own ships.”

Alphad nodded as he brought the program online. “Wish we’d had more time to test it,” he said unhappily.

“Tell that to the Yīqún,” she snorted. “Our doppelgängers are in the pipeline and ready to be sent out to the waiting vessels,” Raven informed him. “All systems are ‘Go’. Project Alala is online.”

The Avatar double-checked his readings and then took a deep breath. “Chris will never let me hear the end of this,” he sighed. “All right. Let’s do this.”

Flipping a virtual switch, the former simulacrum signaled the combined fleet, one laden with encoded data. Ever since their return to the clan, Alphad and Raven had been hard at work trying to weaponize the tactic they’d used to escape the Yīqún’s clutches. It was a hard project, stymied initially by the Avatar Clan leader herself due to its rather unique requirements. While they’d successfully destroyed an attacking drone with their technique, it required both an Avatar and a sapient simulacrum for it to work. Seeing as how there was currently only one autonomous intelligent program running around, and that the Sibyl KriZ/AliZ had absolutely balked at the idea of creating more, the project seemed destined for obscurity and failure.

Until Raven realized they didn’t need to make copies of herself… or need to draft multiple Avatars… in order for the project to work. The attack they’d stumbled upon was actually fairly simple, so all that was really required were simulated virtual copies of themselves to do the job. Still, Chris hesitated. While not actually clones of Raven per se, the fact they still understood so little about both her and her origins made the clan leader nervous. Were it not for the drones’ appearance at this climactic battle, she never would have authorized it. But they had, so, albeit reluctantly, she did.

Their duplicates arrived aboard the host ships of the armada, rewriting themselves into their computers as they prepared for action. They each targeted the nearest Yīqún drone, and in unison, they screamed.

As Alphad and Raven watched, their facsimiles began attacking the evil machines, shattering the controlling personality software within. In ones and two and fives, the drones started going offline.

“... it’s working,’’ Alphad said, stunned, before grabbing hold of Raven and whooping with glee. “It’s working!”

Raven gave him a kiss before going back to her console and monitoring their progress. “We need to take them down a lot faster,” she told him, as the pair shared a look.

“You’re right,” he agreed, as he brought additional banks online.

“Go to full power.”

“Lock down that main!” Maggie snarled, as one of her Tinkers hurried to comply. Freya was getting absolutely hammered, and it was up to the engineers to keep her together, though the way things were going she wasn’t confident about their odds.

“Damn fool Corsairs,” she muttered. “Stop wreckin’ my ship!”

An explosion deep within the old girl’s guts made her buck hard, as a torrent of angry red warning lights appeared on her board. “Fuck, we’ve lost the starboard ammo bunker!”, she thundered, looking around frantically for someone to send… before her eyes finally lit on Diggs.

“… Goddamn it all to hell,” she mumbled, before accepting what needed to be done.

“Diggs,” she said, as he turned and faced her, “I need ya’ to activate the emergency bulkheads and seal off Decks 4 through 7, starboard side aft of Frame 90. Primary an’ secondary control runs are offline, so I can’t do it from here. Activate the suppression system and get folks evacuated, if they ain’t already. Seal that bitch up tight and vent ‘er to space, if you gotta, but get that fire out.” She grabbed him by the shoulders and looked hard into his mismatched eyes. “Do you understand me, boy?”

Diggs nodded eagerly, flashing her a toothy grin. “Don’t worry, mom, I got this,” he told her, sketching a ragged salute as he grabbed his tools. Maggie reached out and pulled him close, hugging him tight.

“Don’t be no hero,” she whispered, “and you keep yourself safe.”

“I promise, mom,” he vowed, pulling free from her grasp. Throwing his kit over his shoulder, he gave her a quick smile before darting off with all the confidence and bravado of youth. Maggie watched him go, her eyes wet and her vision blurred, when another alarm started screaming for her attention.

“Bloody hell,” as she pulled up a display and stared in quiet horror as the main generator started throwing off power spikes. Activating the intercom, she shouted, “Maggie to all Tinkers… watch your telltales, boys, 'cause we’re about to ‘Tickle the Dragon’.”

And hopefully not blow ourselves to kingdom come while we’re doin’ it, she prayed, grabbing her own kit.

“Stand by,” Samara told the others aboard Gyrfalcon’s bridge, “we’re almost finished docking. Hyperion, are we still cloaked?”

The albino nodded, his eyes closed tight. “I’m shielding us from most of the EM spectrum. Not sure how much longer I can hold it.”

“Just a couple more minutes,” she promised, before turning to the other woman in the compartment. “Maya, we’ll need you out front when we crack the hatch.”

“I’ll be ready,” she vowed. “The Eleexx will think we’re part of their crew unless there’s a crowd. I can’t maintain the illusion if there’s too many of them.”

“We’ll do our best to avoid that. Frost, I’ll be on point to deal with any surprises, so I want you guarding our rear to play clean up.”

The other male grinned, holding up his hand as ice condensed around his fingertips. “I promise you, they won’t make a sound,” he told her.

A heavy thud reverberated throughout the ship as Samara cut thrusters. “All right, we’re on. You all know the drill. Let’s do this.” The four operatives unstrapped from their seats and headed for the main hatch, as she checked in with her hidden passenger.

Is Cherdor Hosk ready? she asked the Cognate.

He is standing by, ready to assume control, Guardian assured her. Samara, when this mission is over… he began.

I know, I know, long overdue conversation regarding New Terra, she sighed. We’ll get to it, I promise, but for now… it’s showtime.

The Protean Clan was not the power it once was, thanks to her actions, which left many of her clan divided. Some saw her as nothing but a turncoat and murderer, while others recognized just as she had how they‘d been manipulated and used by the Troika to further their own ends. Ever since she’d lost her first team, she’d resisted working with others like her ever again, but when Remi had rescued her, she’d known this day would come, and done her best to prepare. There were other Protean operatives scattered amongst the Allied armada, doing as they were, sowing discord into the Troika fleet. Checking her weapons as they neared the hatch, she gave her hitchhiker an unseen nod. Okay, Cherdor… it’s all yours.

With nary a twitch, the ancient warrior took control of her body as Maya raised her hands. The hatch slid open to reveal an Eleexx welcoming party, a squad of guards with raised weapons.

“Don’t shoot,” Maya told them, as their enormous compound eyes glazed over, “we were simply repairing the hatch. Nothing more to see here.”

The squad leader stared at her, and then growled, “We should have been informed,” it snapped, before waving the squad back the way they’d come.

The team watched them go as Cherdor/Samara turned to Hyperion. “Are we concealed from the recording devices?” he/she/they asked.

“We’re good,” the albino confirmed, consulting a tablet. “The bridge should be that way,” he continued, pointing towards the left.

“Then let us convince the captain there are traitors amongst the fleet, and provide him with a list of targets,” Cherdor/Samara informed them, as they headed for the bridge.

Genvass Shaafvaazif did his best to reassure the other Dharmists huddling within the ship’s cargo hold, even as yet another muffled explosion sent a tremor reverberating through the hull. He’d never felt so useless in his life, despite his efforts to arrange transport for his clan should the Exodus signal ever come. It hadn’t been easy, as many of his clan hadn’t wanted to go, to uproot their lives and abandon all they had ever known. Some had carved out quite a comfortable niche among the alien worlds, and giving that up hadn’t been an easy sell.

But beneath it all, despite the often-open hostility they received from the other clans, they were also still Terran. They too mourned their murdered home, dreaming of a place they could call their own, where they weren’t beholden to alien landlords and patrons and subject to their whims. A valued and loyal client could quickly become persona non grata overnight, with no explanation given, forced to decamp off-world without notice. Even those that were accepted, experienced prejudice and antagonism almost daily, learning to keep their head down and to never show anger or resentment in return. Yes, the benefits were myriad living amongst an advanced society, as opposed to an aging, leaky ship, but there was a bitter price to be paid that went with it.

He felt a tug on his pant leg, looking down to see a young girl with wide eyes staring back up at him. By her appearance, he guessed she’d lived among the Qi-Tam. “Is it true we’re going home?” she asked in a small voice. As he looked closer, he saw she was clutching a stuffed toy… a Qi-Tam doll, not a human one. Strange, the things you learned to give up.

With a heavy sigh and a forced smile, he lifted her up and sat her on his knee. “Yes, it’s true,” he told her. “We’re going to New Terra. Do you know what that is?”

“Next year, on New Terra,” she recited from memory, her eyes going wide. “It’s real? Really and truly real?”

“Yes, little one,” he promised. “It’s real. And not next year… tomorrow. Tomorrow, on New Terra.” He wiped a smudge from her cheek. “Doesn’t that sound nice?”

She slowly nodded. “Uh-huh,” the little girl cautiously agreed, before leaning in and holding up her doll. “Mocky is scared,” she whispered in his ear.

“Is she now?” he answered, his voice catching as he gingerly took the doll from her grasp. “Well, you tell Mocky there’s nothing to be scared about. There’s going to be lots of people to keep us safe… human people, not Qi-Tam.”

“Like you?” she asked him.

“Oh, better than me,” he smiled. “I mean, people like the Valkyries. Do you know who they are?” The little girl shook her head. “Oh, they’re very brave,” he continued, as she snuggled next to him, “in fact, I know one who reminds me of you. Her name is Rúna, and there was this time that she…”

“... we’ve got more wounded!” Prash shouted over the din, as they carried stretchers into the compartment they’d converted into a field hospital.

Chevalier Deuxième Blye Tagata didn’t bother looking up, not that it would have made a difference. While the Grand Master had been as good as word and removed the cranial implant, his concerns had proven correct. They could not restore her vision, despite their best efforts. It hadn’t been easy, learning to live with her disability, but she’d come to a certain peace with it. Being around those that cared about her helped, plus her studies and conversations with Priestess Sariah Ntombi were a great comfort, as she struggled to find clarity regarding her visions. There had been none since she’d left Taing’zem, which left her wondering if they had been nothing more than delusions, brought on by stress and fear and the brain surgery the Aggaaddub had forced her to undergo. When she asked Sariah, the priestess told her it was a question only she could answer, after spending time in reflection.

A thoroughly aggravating response.

She did as she’d suggested, trying to discover the true nature of what she’d seen, though it seemed that only the time she spent with her son was when things made any sense. Being a newly single parent on top of everything else wasn’t easy, but she treasured every precious moment of it. Leaving him in the care of others even temporarily as they pressed her into service ripped at her heart, bringing up painful memories she’d tried to forget. While there were many roles she could still fulfill, surgery was no longer one of them… until today. With the race for New Terra come at last, the Knights Hospitaller needed everyone they could get their hands on, even though it meant temporarily abandoning their relief projects across the sector. Hopefully, once they'd claimed the planet for humanity, they could resume their efforts.

The battle raging all around them was growing more desperate by the minute, the bloody butcher’s bill showing no sign of abating. As urgent as their need was for trained medical personnel, even a blind surgeon was welcome. While she no longer had the use of her eyes, she still had her other senses, her years of training and experience, and if worse came to worst she could always request a consult with Prash or Amar.

“Over here!” she shouted, raising her hand as the litter bearers carried off her most recent patient. Locating that bleeder hadn’t been easy, but she’d finally nailed the bastard. Blye stripped off her gloves and quickly washed up and re-gloved as they set her next patient down in front of her.

“Radiation and plasma burns to the dexter thoracic region, with possible pneumothorax,” Prash informed her, while her hands gently probed the area. “One of the Tinkers. He was making repairs when a conduit blew.”

She nodded as she pressed an ear to the patient’s chest and quickly heard the telltale sound of escaping air from a collapsed lung. “Pneumothorax confirmed,” she agreed. “Get me vitals and put him under,” she told the Chevalier Cinquième assisting her, as Amar looked over from his own table and gave Prash a nod. Satisfied, he returned to the Triage area, even as another batch of wounded was hauled in.

Taking up a scalpel, Blye whispered, “Holy Mother Terra, guide my hand,” as she made her first incision.

Remi pointed out one of the Troika ships to Athena. “There... can you zoom in?” he asked her.

The enemy vessel and the region of space surrounding it were isolated and enhanced as he peered closer. “That’s a Valkyrie assault shuttle,” he informed her. “Can you tell if there are Terrans on board that ship?”

“Confirmed,” Athena informed him. “There are several similar cases where members of your species have physically boarded enemy ships. I have refrained from targeting those. I assume this meets with your approval?”

“You assume correctly,” he sighed in relief. As chaotic as the battle was, trying to grasp even a small portion of it was all but impossible, yet Athena was doing so with ease.

“In addition,” she continued, “I have noticed several similar instances where said lifeform readings are… perplexing.” She brought up a side-by-side comparison to show him. “Can you explain this phenomenon?”

Glancing at the data, he had a pretty good notion why Athena was confused. “I’m no expert, but I’m betting those are Proteans you’re reading,” he told her. “They’re Terrans who have undergone genetic experimentation and had cybernetic enhancements implanted in their bodies, in order to gain abilities.”

“And they are your allies as well?” she inquired.

“Oh, boy,” he sighed. No need to open up that can of worms. “For the moment, I’m going to say ‘Yes’,” he shrugged. “Let’s just say their bio readings aren’t the only thing complicated about them.”

Athena raised an eyebrow at that, but let it pass unremarked.