The Paygan arrived on Ataraxia’s bridge with Genvass and Rúna in tow, accompanied by a phalanx of guards keeping close tabs on the Terrans. Settling into his chair, the Ixian addressed his Second. “Current status of the fleet?” he inquired.

“Unchanged,” he answered, “awaiting your command.”

“And the Terrans?” he pressed.

“No sign of them at this time, Paygan,” the Second responded. “As yet, they have not attempted to depart New Terran space.”

“Very well,” he nodded. “Open a channel to the fleet, all ships. Record for the log.”

The communications officer hurried to comply. “Channel is open,” he advised.

“To all vessels of the Grand Alliance, this is Paygan Kuosha Xeing,” he announced. “After engaging in consultations with the New Terran diplomatic envoy, I am ordering the fleet to withdraw to a secure location while we reconsider our options. I recognize this may not be a popular decision, and that it is in direct conflict with our orders, however, I have reason to suspect the situation is not as settled as we were led to believe. The fleet will continue to maintain full readiness, and will defend itself should it fall under attack, but we will not, repeat not, initiate hostilities at this time. All units, signal your receipt and compliance with these orders. Paygan Kuosha Xeing, clear.” Settling into his chair as the transmission ended, he looked to Genvass. “And now we see if anyone takes umbrage,” he told him.

“And if they do?” the ambassador asked. “What then?”

“I imagine we will be answering that question in short order,” the Paygan sighed. “Should they choose to lodge a formal complaint, I will take no action. If they decide instead to break from the fleet and return to their respective homeworlds, I will again take no action.”

“And if they choose to fight?” Genvass said quietly.

“Then the situation becomes interesting,” the Ixian answered.

“... that’s one way of putting it,” Rúna muttered.

The ambassador raised an eyebrow. “And how would you describe it?” he asked her.

“Having a front-row seat to the biggest and bloodiest battle since we claimed New Terra,” she said at last.

Captain Inaba winced as yet another Precursor weapon detonated, taking out a nearby structure. The theater of operations had descended into chaos, with insurgent and loyalist forces fighting throughout the sector. Losing Colonel Holme had been a hard blow, yet his message struck a chord with many individuals who’d heard his broadcast. Reinforcements were now trickling in from all directions, and several outfits had abruptly switched sides, tipping the balance in their favor.

But the battle was far from over, with those swearing allegiance to the Clan leaders holding key positions in the city, while rebel forces under her command advanced further into Kathmandu. The cost was horrific, with both sides now armed with Precursor weapons the ancient city was being torn apart. Rubble choked the thoroughfares, slowing their advance, while here and there the enemy was fighting to drive them back. The bloody Butcher’s Bill continued to climb steadily, with no end in sight.

Behind them, the Knights had set up triage, fighting to save the lives they could, while at the tip of the spear, clanless Proteans had volunteered their services, using their unique talents to attack the enemy. Friendly Corsairs had thrown together a makeshift squadron and were hitting back where they could, providing air support to the beleaguered Valkyries fighting for their very lives. They were still broadcasting the colonel’s message, hoping to give their opponents pause, but so far, it had proven ineffective.

There was an explosion to the west, as another ancient edifice collapsed in on itself. If they kept this up, soon there wouldn’t be a capital for either side to claim, but she couldn’t allow herself to think about that now. Too much was at stake.

As she ordered her troops forward, Inaba prayed they could end this fight, before they wound up finishing what the Yīqún began when they destroyed the Earth.

“... the turncoats are still advancing, despite your best efforts,” Dàifu Khatsakhox snarled. “I thought you said you could handle this.”

“I am handling it!” Commandant Zakiyya fired back. “I’ll have this revolt put down in short order, so I suggest we stick to the plan.” She folded her arms and glared at the Dharmist, daring her to disagree.

“None of this matters,” Admiral Van Aalst interjected. “It’s a sideshow, nothing more. Once we launch our attack on the Grand Alliance fleet, they’ll come around. They won’t have any other choice.” He looked over at the Tinker. “Are things ready on your end?”

“We’re ready,” Diplom-Ingenieur Svéd confirmed. “Just say the word.”

“I think we’ve waited long enough,” the Sibyl KriZ/AliZ announced from their monitor. “The sooner we end this, the better.”

“Agreed,” the Dàifu nodded. “Admiral… begin the attack.”

“Paygan!” his Second said in a rush, “we are seeing activity within the Demon system!”

Genvass sighed. “You’re still calling it that?” he asked the Ixian.

“Ingrained habits often prove difficult to break,” he shrugged. “Besides, now is not the time to bicker over linguistic relics.” He turned his attention to his Second. “What sort of activity?” he queried.

“We are having difficulty obtaining a clear image,” he reported. “There appears to be some sort of interference impeding our efforts.”

He nodded with grim acceptance. “Inform the fleet they are to prepare for battle,” he ordered, “and redouble your efforts in cutting through that interference. I must know what we are facing.”

“Paygan, please, order the fleet to withdraw,” the ambassador pleaded. “There doesn’t have to be a battle today.”

“Consider yourself fortunate I could manage this much,” the Ixian said sourly. “Were I to order a retreat in the face of the enemy, I would be accused of cowardice.” He shot a look over at Rúna. “Ask your captain what would likely happen then.”

Genvass turned to the Valkyrie, who shook her head. “He’d be challenged for command,” she said quietly, “assuming his Second didn’t just execute him on the spot.” The pair glanced at the Ixian in question, who returned their gaze with equanimity as the ambassador shuddered.

“The interference is dissipating,” the second reported. “We are now reading multiple vessels of indeterminate configuration.” An image appeared on the main screen, but it was distorted and difficult to make out. The bridge crew worked to clear up the display, and as they leaned in and watched, it slowly came into view, before finally snapping into place, drawing gasps from everyone gathered there.

“Holy Mother Terra,” Genvass whispered in horror.

Rúna stared at the screen. “I can’t believe they’d be that fucking stupid,” she said in dismay.

The Paygan slowly turned to face the Terrans. “So,” he said coldly, “... you have resurrected the Yīqún. Your race may have just doomed us all.”

Admiral Van Aalst brought up the display on Peacemaker’s virtual bridge, nodding in satisfaction as the Grand Alliance fleet responded to their appearance, the armada assuming tactical formations as the two forces prepared for battle. As the Terran force’s flagship, it was fitting that the ancient Precursor vessel would lead the attack. There were other craft accompanying them as well; Freya, of course, as well as her recently rediscovered sister ship Tyr, still sporting patches from her restoration in spacedock. A handful of additional Precursor vessels sailed beside them; scout craft mostly, though a pair of transports they’d hastily reconfigured as cruisers were on hand as well. They were sturdy platforms, resistant to most weapon’s fire, though their own armaments were of purely Terran make, scavenged from other craft. Rounding out the fleet were a scattering of other craft, the most serviceable of the Corsair ships still operational.

But surrounding them all lay a protective shell of drones, duplicates of the Yīqún’s original design. Athena had copies of the original blueprints in her files, and unmanned craft were far easier to construct than ships of the line. Built-in automated factories, just as their predecessors had, they’d created thousands of the deadly unmanned vehicles. They obeyed the commands sent from Peacemaker, and thus far had functioned perfectly.

The Admiral smiled as they drew closer to the enemy. The Grand Alliance didn’t stand a chance.

Genvass could only stare in shock as the Terran fleet emerged from the system, enveloped by the stuff of nightmares. There wasn’t a sapient being anywhere within the Perseus Arm that wasn’t familiar with the vicious machines after the recent conflict, but for humans, they held a special place in the pantheon of evil. It was the Yīqún who had destroyed Earth, murdering billions and leaving its survivors homeless and adrift, without safe harbor. That single act had scarred humanity deeply, and it would likely be the work of generations, if ever, before that wound could finally heal.

He turned to face the Paygan, his expression one of pure dread. “I swear to you, we didn’t know.”

The Ixian regarded him with cool calculation, before finally shaking his head. “I believe you, Ambassador, but it matters little enough now. I have no choice but to give battle and fight with all that I have.” His head snapped over to his Second. “Order all commanders to open fire the moment they are within range.”

In desperation, Genvass moved to position himself before the Paygan. “Please, allow me to speak with them,” he said frantically. “I might be able to talk to them and get them to stand down.”

“I believe you are merely deluding yourself,” the Ixian said dismissively. “However, it costs me little to make the attempt.” With a wave of his hand, he ordered the comm officer to open a channel. Less than a minute later, Admiral Van Aalst appeared on the screen.

“I see you’ve gone native, Ambassador,” he sneered. “You realize there are penalties for consorting with the enemy, and that those punishments grow much more harsh when committed during a time of war.”

“Have you lost your goddamn mind?” Genvass all but shrieked. “Why, in the name of Holy Mother Terra, would you bring back the fucking Yīqún? Haven’t those accursed machines cost us enough already?”

“Unfortunately, because of the time constraints involved, they were the best we could come up with on short notice,” the Admiral said smugly. “But not to worry, they’re safely under our control… though that’s likely to be a problem for you if remain aboard an enemy vessel.”

“You can’t be that stupid,” the ambassador said in disgust. “The fucking Precursors couldn’t control them, and you think you can?” He stared at the admiral in utter disbelief. “Does the word ‘hubris’ mean anything to you, you fucking imbecile?”

Van Aalst’s eyes narrowed. “I think we’re done here,” he fired back. “You turned your back on your own kind. May Mother Terra have mercy on your soul, because I certainly don’t,” he spat, as the screen went blank.

“That went well,” Rúna observed dryly.

“There’s gotta be some way to stop this,” Genvass said in anguish. “We can’t let this happen!”

“Give it up, Ambassador,” the Valkyrie sighed, “it’s over. We’ve run out of cards to play.”

“I can’t accept that. I can’t,” he said in hopeless determination, before facing the Paygan once more. “If you order the fleet to withdraw, to buy us more time…”

“And allow those machines to be set loose upon the galaxy once more? I think not,” the Ixian thundered. “You ask too much, Ambassador. I suggest you return to your ship before I have you and your companions placed in irons.” The Paygan deliberately turned away, showing them his back, as he brought up Ataraxia’s targeting display, centering it directly on Peacemaker. “Though in the end,” he said quietly, almost as an afterthought, “I doubt it will matter.”

Out of ideas, he turned to Rúna. “Please tell me you’ve got a plan,” he begged her. “I don’t care how crazy it is.”

“Sorry, Ambassador,” she shrugged, “I’m tapped out. The Clan leaders won’t talk, and they won’t back down. That means a fight. The only way to stop them is to beat them, and the Paygan currently has the only force available to accomplish that.” She looked at the tactical display before bowing her head in defeat. “And being completely honest? The odds aren’t in his favor. You need power to defeat them… and we don’t have any.”

Looking at the display, he realized she was right. It made him want to weep, to come so far and survive so much, only to have it all end like this. They’d faced dark moments before as a species; losing Earth, the long years of wandering, the last battle for New Terra…

“... that’s it!” he shouted, before grabbing Rúna by the arms. “Power!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” she said dubiously, eyeing his grip on her biceps with displeasure until he hastily let go.

“The Alliance fleet isn’t the only force available to stop the Clan leaders,” he said in a rush. “There’s still Athena!”

“Now you’re just grasping at straws,” Rúna groaned. “She won’t intervene, and if she does, I seriously doubt it’ll be in our favor. She has one purpose, Ambassador,” the Valkyrie said with conviction, “to protect New Terra from outsiders, by any means necessary. She won’t help us, and even if she were so inclined, she’s on the other side of the goddamn battlefield!” Rúna shouted, her last nerve frayed. “It’s a Fool’s Errand, a Hopeless Cause, a fucking Forlorn Hope, and…”

The Valkyrie slowly ground to a halt, deflating like a balloon. “What the hell,” she said ruefully, “we’re dead either way. You want to spend your last few minutes of existence on a wild goose chase?” She shook her head, chuckling with rakish abandon, before flashing a weary grin. “Why the hell not?”

The Paygan watched in disbelief as they worked out their plan of desperation. “There are times I am convinced your entire species must be mad,” he sighed, before gracing them both with a smile of his own. “But then, perhaps times such as these require madmen.” He shot a brief glance at the monitor before returning his gaze. “I doubt it will make a difference in the fight ahead, but if you are serious about this, you must leave now. If you delay your departure…” He left the rest unvoiced.

“Come on,” he urged Rúna, making for the hatch, “while there’s still time!”