The Grand Alliance fleet worked like demons to restore their ships, undoing the damage caused by Athena’s array. While the Yīqún might be gone, Peacemaker was still out there, and even as the Paygan exhorted those under his command to expedite repairs, he kept a nervous eye focused on what remained of the Terran fleet. He did not know how quickly they could bring the Precursor vessel back online, but if their engineering section was as advanced as the rest of the ship…

“Status report,” he snapped, directing the command to his Second.

The expression on his subordinate’s face was not encouraging. “No change,” he answered grimly. “Our Damage Control teams are working as quickly as possible, but given the number of systems affected by the blast…” He shrugged helplessly.

“Remind them what will likely occur should the Terrans complete their repairs before we do,” he growled, all too aware of how his own apprehension was affecting his command. He knew he was in danger of becoming a slave to his fears, knew it down to the depths of his soul, yet that knowledge did him no good. Against those ancient weapons, they were little more than insects, and any being who claimed they were not afraid was either a liar or a fool. His own species had long shunned this region of space, and for good reason.

Some things were best left undisturbed.

Unfortunately for the galaxy, some quirk in the Terran’s DNA left them predisposed to spend their lives forever poking things with a stick, eagerly rushing in where older and wiser races refused to tread. But that same irresponsibility had paid dividends for the human clans, leaving them in sole possession of the Precursors’ legacy. No race should have sole access to that kind of power, for the temptations and chances of abuse were far too great. That the Terrans had resurrected the Yīqún, the species responsible for the destruction of their homeworld, was incontrovertible proof.

But what was done was done, and he could no more change the past than anyone else. They had to adapt if the Perseus Arm were ever to know peace, though if the Terrans did not alter their own course as well, the issue quickly became moot. If the humans remained fixed on their current trajectory, there would be peace, of a sort. Slave pens tended to be very peaceful, if the chattel in question knew what was good for them. If not, then graveyards were among the most peaceful places to be found anywhere in the galaxy.

Not that his people would find much joy in that universe. No one would… the Terrans, least of all.

His Second’s head snapped up, interrupting his musings. “Paygan, we have an incoming message,” he said anxiously.

The commander closed his eyes. “The Terrans, I assume?” he said quietly. There was only one reason they would call, and that was to issue their demands for surrender. Once upon a time, in another life, he would have gladly done so, counting on their honor to treat their prisoners well, and eventually exchange them back to their loved ones. Now? The thought of being their captive filled him with horror.

“Yes, Paygan,” his second began, only to pause and shake his head. “I mean, no Paygan,” he started once more, before coming to a halt and attempting to calm himself. “The call is not from the Terran fleet,” he clarified, “but the Terran ambassador.”

His eyes snapped open in desperate hope. “Put him through,” he ordered.

The Terran ambassador’s face filled the main viewer. “It’s over, Paygan,” he said in obvious relief. "We have destroyed the Yīqún and defeated Peacemaker," the Terran ambassador announced, relief obvious on his face. “You can stand down.”

The Ixian regarded him with a chary expression. “Can I?” he answered carefully. “What is to prevent your clan leaders from constructing additional drones? Or another Peacemaker, for that matter?” He leaned forward, eyeing Genvass with trepidation. “Ambassador, as long as your race holds the monopoly on Precursor technology, the galaxy will never know peace.”

The Terran slowly nodded in agreement. “You realize that even if we share their technology, that’s no guarantee of peace either.”

“No, it is not,” the Paygan agreed, “but at the very least, it will level the playing field.”

Genvass took a moment to consider his words. “Give me a little time, Paygan,” he said at last. “Time to end the clan leaders’ treachery. Time to find a solution both sides can live with.” He looked plaintively at the alien commander. “I need time.”

“I do not disagree,” the Paygan nodded sagely, “and I will do what I can to give you the time that you require. But I promise you this, even if I can somehow convince the other races … and my emperor… to delay, they will not wait long.”

“I know,” the ambassador said softly.

“Then move swiftly, Ambassador,” the Ixian answered, “for your time already runs short.”

As the call to Ataraxia ended, Genvass turned to the others. “We have to end this fight now before they discover just how vulnerable we are. So, how do we do that?”

“I regret I can be of little assistance in this matter,” Athena apologized. “I was created to defend this world from external threats, not internal ones.”

“Cut off a snake’s head, and the snake dies,” Rúna said bluntly. “Find the other clan leaders. Once they’re in custody… or eliminated… their coup falls apart.”

“Your reasoning is sound,” Guardian agreed, “but how do you propose we locate them? As Athena has pointed out, our resources are thin on the planet’s surface.”

Now that she was back on more familiar ground, a dark smile crossed Samara’s face. “Patch me through to Peacemaker,” she told the AI, “and be ready to back me up.”

Admiral Van Aalst sat within a dark and silent ship, his mood growing fouler and more loathsome by the moment. His crew gave him a wide berth, though truth be told their own emotional states were faring little better. The plot to take control of New Terra was supposed to be a foregone conclusion, a slam dunk. Between Peacemaker and their own Yīqún drones, no one would be able to stand against them. They’d been busily rounding up the troublemakers, and as for the Grand Alliance, once they faced them in battle, it would all be over.

Only the rabble-rousers had somehow escaped and started up their own counter-revolution, while their drones had been obliterated and their flagship disabled. They’d offered those who signed on with the clan leaders persuasive inducements; wealth, power, prestige, all the usual gratuities. It had seemed like such an obvious decision. After all, who doesn’t want to be on the winning side?

How had it all gone so horribly wrong?

Van Aalst was so obsessed with this unfortunate turn of events he was caught by surprise when the main viewer came to life once more, startling him from his reverie. He scowled as an all too familiar face appeared on the screen.

“Admiral,” Samara purred, “how nice to see you again.”

“What do you want?” he snarled in return.

“Oh, not much,” she said casually. “If you would be so kind as to tell me where I can find the rest of your co-conspirators, I won’t trouble you further.”

“Piss off,” he blustered, “you’ll get nothing from me.”

The Protean laughed. “You know, no matter how many times someone tells me that, it never gets old.” She glanced at someone off-screen and gave them a small nod.

“And what the hell is that supposed to be about?” he demanded.

“Just signaling Athena,” she answered. “I ordered her to cut off your life support.”

The admiral froze, staring at her. “You’re bluffing,” he finally decided.

Samara just chuckled. “Seriously, what would be the point of that?” she asked him. “Besides, if you know anything at all about me, it’s that I never bluff. Care to know why?” She leaned in, her eyes boring into his. “It’s because I have absolutely no qualms about killing you in the most painful ways imaginable. Ask anybody.”

That gave him pause. “I believe you,” he said at last, albeit reluctantly, “but I’m still not giving them up.” His jaw set in a hard line. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to do this the hard way.”

“Are you actually going to make me come over there and torture it out of you?” she sighed. “Although I’m not sure the word ‘torture’ is really accurate in this context,” she amended, after a moment’s thought. “It’s just not… descriptive enough.”

Van Aalst simply glared at her, refusing to back down. “I’ll be damned if I make this easy for you, Samara,” he snapped. “You do what you have to… and so will I.”

The Protean shrugged. “Your funeral.” She nodded offscreen again, presumably to Athena, as suddenly every monitor aboard Peacemaker went active.

“Attention, crew of Peacemaker,” she announced to everyone listening. “For those of you who don’t recognize me, I’m Samara. You probably know the name, and I promise that all the stories you’ve heard are true.” She flashed them a rather disturbing smile. “In case you haven’t realized it yet, your little coup is officially over. You lost. Accept that. It’ll make things go so much smoother.”

The crew were looking at one another in confusion, but the Protean wasn’t finished. “Now, I’d really like to know where I can find the other clan leaders, but unfortunately your Admiral isn’t being very cooperative. So to hurry things along, I’ve shut off your air. You should start noticing it getting a bit thick anytime now. However, Peacemaker is a big ship, and it’ll likely take several hours for the situation to really get desperate, but since I’m on a timetable, I’ll make you all this offer.” The jovial, teasing persona disappeared as she suddenly grew serious. “The first person who convinces the Admiral to give me the information I want gets to live. Everyone else? Out the airlock.”

The nervous glances being exchanged quickly turned to something else as all eyes swiveled toward the admiral. “Now wait just a minute,” he sputtered, rising from his chair and slowly backing away, while the crew’s resolve hardened.

“Clock is ticking, boys and girls,” Samara said from the monitor. “This is a one-time-only offer, with an extremely limited shelf life.”

Her smile reappeared, now positively shark-like, as the crew closed in.

“So… who’s it going to be?” she goaded them.

Genvass watched the events unfold aboard Peacemaker with abject horror. It was like a shark’s feeding frenzy, something he only knew of from historical texts. Faced with their own imminent demise, the crew turned on the admiral with a savagery that had to be seen to be believed. In the space of just a few minutes, a bloody and thoroughly beaten Van Aalst disclosed the clan leader’s location. The ambassador secretly observed Rúna's reaction to the attack, concerned about her mental state since she had recently been the aggressor herself under similar circumstances. To his surprise, she regarded the brutally one-sided fight with far more equanimity than he’d expected. He’d have to ask her about that at some point, but right now, they had more pressing concerns.

“The shipyard on the fifth planet’s moon,” Samara grimaced. “Figures. Safe and far from any actual fighting.” Despite her threat toward the crew, she hadn’t followed through with it. It wasn’t necessary. They had the information they needed, and considering how earnestly the admiral had shouted the location, she had no doubts as to its veracity.

“Do we have any ships under our control that can reach them?” Genvass asked hopefully.

“None,” Rúna said sourly, “unless Remi and Taneka can get Saracen off the ground again.”

“That seems unlikely,” Athena informed them. “Scans from orbit suggest the vessel in question has been damaged beyond repair. That they even survived the landing was a remarkable achievement.”

“There are several vessels located at New Terra’s spaceport, but that region is being heavily contested by both factions,” Guardian reported. “Any ship attempting to take off would immediately come under fire and be destroyed.”

“Damn it, we need a ship!” Genvass snapped, lashing out in frustration. “There has to be one somewhere! I’d even accept a Limodrian garbage scow if that’s all we had!”

The ambassador froze, then slowly faced the holographic representation Athena had created of the battle zone.

“Place a call to the Paygan,” he ordered, “and pray he’s in a charitable mood.”

“... let me see if I understand correctly, the nature of your request,” the Paygan said, his expression bordering on the incredulous. “You wish for the Grand Alliance… your sworn enemy, currently… to simply hand over to you one of our warships?” He looked askance at the ambassador. “I realize Terrans are well known for flouting convention, but this strains even your sense of propriety.”

“I know,” Genvass sighed. “Trust me, I wouldn’t be asking if the situation wasn’t dire.”

“Ambassador, try to look at this from my perspective,” the Ixian said carefully. “Your people and mine are, at this very moment, at war with one another. One does not provide one’s enemies with the means to continue fighting against them.”

“Paygan, it was through our own efforts that the forces you faced were defeated,” the ambassador patiently reminded him. “Had we not intervened on your behalf, being completely honest, you and I would not be having this conversation.” He stared back at the alien in anguish. “Despite what positions our respective governments may hold, you and I are not enemies. If you truly believe in the cause of peace as I do, then please, I beg you… help me now.”

The Ixian and the Terran gazed at one another as they each weighed their respective responsibilities, before the Paygan finally relented, inclining his head. “I can provide you with a shuttle,” he said at last, “but nothing more. An unarmed shuttle,” he further clarified.

Genvass sighed in relief. “Thank you, Paygan,” he told the Ixian, “we’re sending you the coordinates now…”, only to pause in confusion as the blue-skinned alien held up his hand, interrupting him.

“Unfortunately, simply sending you the shuttle under automatic controls is not possible,” he clarified. “You are, of course, aware of the powerful weapon that guards your world,” the Ixian continued. “No one outside your own race may pass through its defenses. In eons past, we made many attempts to breach the system’s perimeter… including sending crewless automated vessels.” His focus on the ambassador narrowed, becoming almost laser-like. “Those ships were destroyed, so I am at some loss how I can send the shuttle to your aid.”

He was a mere heartbeat away from assuring him that his concerns were unwarranted, given that the array was currently offline… when his brain skidded to a halt. On the Ixian homeworld, a similar misstep had revealed to the Paygan the existence of Peacemaker, due to the alien’s intellect and keen intuition. As great a concern as that had been, it paled compared to the fact that if the Grand Alliance were to advance on New Terra now, with the array non-operational, nothing would stop them. Athena could reactivate Peacemaker, of course, even take over the controls and fight it herself, but if they were forced to make that choice, then any hope for peace would be lost forever.

He couldn’t let that happen.

Thankfully, he’d caught himself in time. “We anticipated that Paygan, and we have a solution.”

“Oh? And what is that?” the Ixian inquired.

Genvass smiled. “I believe some of our digital friends are still aboard your ship. With one of them to pilot the shuttle, Athena assures me it will have no difficulty passing through the barrier.”

The suggestion amused him. “Very well,” he said at last, “expect our shuttle to arrive shortly.”