32. Exploration

The Dreif starship was an ancient-looking thing, as much on the outside as it was on the inside. When looked at from afar, it looked to be composed almost entirely of mismatched and asymmetrical plates of armour. A multitude of pipes, bare metal cooling fins and battlements sprouted from between the plates at random, while the engines it ran on spewed orange vapour across the dark canvas of space behind it. It was short, stumpy thing, given its scale, but as with most Dreifian technology, it was designed for efficiency, rather than aesthetics. Speckles of white glow ran across its surface, clustered at the ‘bow’; indicative of the shields.

The ship, dubbed the Ydarion, was a densely-constructed, small-sized craft that housed many thousands of crew members, and just over sixty thousand non-workers. It was a scout – diminutive in nearly every way.

--

The Ydarion’s innards were a maelstrom of activity. People surged through grey metal tunnels, sandwiched tightly together; shoulders bumped, conversation roared, and nobody could take a half a step without getting shoved from some angle or another. This normally wouldn’t have been considered a very busy day at all, but there was an urgency in the air that surpassed the rush for meals, leisure or entertainment, and the confined space of the Ydarion was not conducive to it at all. Something was off.

But who didn’t know? They’d just dropped out of their hyperspacial field a month ago, and that meant they were very close. Sixty-seven light-years of travel, coming to an end, and that meant freedom. It was soon becoming the realisation of a new era in the Dreif history books. No longer would they look up and see metal instead of sky, and no longer would they dream about the sensation of the ground shifting under their feet when they could feel it for themselves. This was long-awaited liberation from the metal coffin the Ydarion, and other ships like it, had become.

Other Dreif ships began to join the Ydarion over the next few days; The Ollerfan, general service ship and Habitation for civilians (dubbed GSSH), and the triplets Ultrifer, Ultimer and Ulterkor, warships dedicated to defending Habitations. Others, including the command barge Anderlan, gathered over the coming weeks. The Ollerfan and other GSSHs distributed supplies amongst the others. The citizens busied themselves with celebrations, for they knew that the real labour of their journey would come when it came time to start the mass migration from ship to land. They were a splinter of a spreading civilisation.

--

Admiral Jetock Ir-Dinar held his head in his hand, one eye watching blearily through the gaps between his fingers at the buzz of activity around him. They all moved so quickly, happily, and familiarly around each other on this ship. He liked being able to glance expectantly at any person in the command centre and be confident in their ability to tell him what he wanted to know; it was a sense of trust that they, as Dreif, were unaccustomed to, before they moved to the ships for mass migration. Jetock would have been lucky to see the same person serving food in the cafeteria more than once, back on ground. Outside the militarised sections of the ship, things were more bloated, though; they were an over-populating species by nature, and that made limited space incredibly hard to deal with at times.

But things were well. Soon they would reach their destination, descend into high orbit around the planet, and begin the Transfer. He smiled to himself every time he thought of the sensation of sun against his ghostly-white, ridged skin; when he’d gotten onto the pile of metal he called home, he was a healthy brown, but he doubted now that he would ever get back to that, seeing as the system they were heading to had only one sun. It was acceptable for living, surely, but it would be cold.

“Admiral?”

He was sick of metal. The earthiness of the ground, sand, and the wind on his skin, was what he dreamt about.

“Sir?”

The man jerked his face away from his palm and blinked all three of his eyes rapidly at the woman who had appeared on his left. “What? Yes, what is it?” He asked, straightening himself up in his chair.

The girl produced a small smile that quickly disappeared when she turned her attentions to the tablet in her hands. She turned it for his convenience and offered it in an outstretched hand. The Admiral took it, and she spoke. “Another storm, sir. Navigation recommends we change course again.”

The man sighed as he scanned the lines of text, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a knuckle in an effort to control his frustration. “What kind of delay should we expect?”

The girl pursed her lips. “To completely clear the zone of risk and avoid any possibility of damage, we lose another four days. Apparently we can leave closer to when the radiation hits, but… nobody seems willing to back it up and say it’s a good idea.” She hugged the tablet to her chest.

Jetock sighed again, but nodded. Four days for safety. “Alright, officer. Have Navigation make the changes, tell Comm to get on the line with the other ships and tell them the news, and tell—“

And suddenly, a rumble, quite unlike any that the Anderlan was expected to produce, swept throughout the very skeleton of the ship, bringing with it a deep, troubling vibration that he could feel resonate inside his chest cavity. Cut off, the admiral fell very quiet – and so did the rest of the command centre. Conversations stopped, and troubled glances took their place as people looked from one to another out of fear. Several tense moments passed, and Jetock lifted himself from his chair. All eyes fell to him.

“Someone get a line with maintenance. Find out what that was, and whether or not they think it’ll happen agai—“

People were shaken and thrown to the floor by the next rumble. Jetock staggered back against the arm of his chair, and with a sharp breath in, knew that something was very wrong. He shouted at the command deck, “Get moving! Find out what that was! Contact the other ships! Move!”

Nadir, the officer at his side, had picked herself up from the floor. “Shouldn’t the dampeners make sure we don’t feel force like that!?” She questioned as the rest of the room blew up with activity.

“Yes, Nadir, they should. Go back to your station, see if you can help with something,” He said. The admiral pulled a screen mounted on an arm next to his chair around to his front and began furiously typing in access codes to send the same question to the head of every ship in their convoy:

WHAT IS HAPPENING?

Voices called out to him from across the deck.

“Communications with Ydarion have been lost!”

“Maintenance have no idea what caused the engines to stall so badly!”

“Communications with Ships two, three, five to nineteen, twenty-one to forty-three, and fifty-two have been restored! Nobody knows what happened! Reporting no major damage, just engine stall and minor cases of hydraulic failure in centrifugal axes across the board.”

“Still no word from Ydarion!”

The Admiral stood again. “Are we being fired upon?”

“No external damage, sir!”

“Sensors are freaking out, sir!

The Admiral’s middle eye narrowed in confusion, “Then how do we know we’re not being fired upon!?”

The distressed Dreif who reported the sensors threw up his arms and then pointed at his screen. Jetock focused the eye in his forehead on that panel and saw that it was giving off all manner of crazy readings, some of which indicated weather conditions, despite being in the vacuum of space. They were not safe to trust for any data. “Something’s overwhelming them,” He growled.

“We have communications back with all ships!” Someone shouted at him.

“Even the Ydarion?” Jetock asked. If the Ydarion was still running, then they were not being attacked; the thing was in worse shape than any of the other ships with the group.

“They’re sending text… It says, ‘Off course – Advise Admiral orders all ships to follow – major anomaly ahead – appears highly dangerous. Video stream incoming.” The Dreif woman looked back at him from her screen. “Should we follow?” She asked.

Jetock looked to Nadir, his line to navigation. “Do we have any idea where the Ydarion is?”

“We do,” She said. “Are we following?”

The Admiral nodded. His pulse was racing, his adrenaline pumping. “Notify the other ships. Tell Navigation to draw a bead on the Ydarion and get us the hell out of here. Whatever’s causing this is big, and I don’t want to stick around and say hello.”

“Understood!”

The Dreif fleet began to peel away from their predetermined course, veering sharply to the right to home in on the Ydarion.

“Video stream from Ydarion is here, Sir.” The Dreif at her control panel looked back to the admiral.

He gestured to the large screen that covered the far wall, which contained some very basic navigation information. “Put it on-screen; we have to know what we’re dealing with.”

“Sir.”

Jetock leant forward in his seat as the screen cut to video captured from one of the port-side sensor arrays. Just what kind of disturbance could have caused this much trouble for them, if it wasn’t an enemy? To be able to see it seemed a blessing.

But as he and everyone else on-deck beheld it, he felt as if the bottom of his stomach had fallen away.

It was a fissure, of sorts. A cracked, jagged line, cut through the dead emptiness of space. It tremored, shaking as it constantly shifted in and out of focus at random. A gaseous, dark green aura surrounded it, and storms of lightning seemed to brew from within, lighting its surface with tinges of purple and blue. It was far away, but large – at least a hundred-thousand kilometres across, and its boundaries were growing.

He’d seen this before, but only once, and through video footage taken from very, very far away.

“Star-splitters.” He breathed the words, softer than anyone had ever known him to speak. His eyes snapped to Nadir at his side, who looked to have heard what he said, judging by her wide eyes. “Cut all broadcasts, ship-wide. Stream this video to every screen we can access, and then get it to the other ships. Quickly.” The words were heavy in his mouth.

Nadir returned a few moments later, her hands shaking at her sides like leaves in a breeze.

The scar in space grew as they all watched, and was no longer flickering in and out of clarity. Now locked in place, it began to widen, stretching apart like a reopening wound. White light spilled from within, and the green vapour around it lit up with a dazzling electrical storm.

Nearly everyone on-deck took a simultaneous step away from the main screen as a vast, metallic object surged forth from within the scar. The electrical storm from around the scar danced along its surface, illuminating the object’s complex shape, form and function.

It was the front of a ship. A very, very large one.

The truly enormous craft appeared to move slowly, but only due to its vast size; just the section revealed to the Dreif viewers was already larger than the combined volume of their entire fleet. It was a sleek piece of machinery, with a slim front and angular, aerodynamic back. Gigantic left and right wings hung off either side, each merely the housing for their engines. And after just a few seconds of traversing the scar, it pulled free. The craft then decelerated to a slow drift, its engines leaving dancing trails of luminescent blue exhaust, and the portal behind it snapped shut.

Jetock and his crew instantly shielded their eyes as the screen flashed white; the picture distorted, and their ship gave a shuddering, pained rumble while the shock of the scar closing washed over it. He completely closed his middle eye and looked to Nadir, who was even shakier than she was before. The young Dreif twitched and glanced back at him, mouth slightly agape, and then looked back to the screen. The craft seemed still, though a cocoon of semi-transparent light was building around it.

Nadir took a sharp breath inward. “… It’s beautiful.”

Jetock looked around at his dumbstruck crew. As much as he could appreciate the incredible sight they were all witnessing, there were things that needed to be done, so he cleared his throat loudly. “Yes, it was pretty, but somebody needs to get me some information!” The crewmen jumped at his sudden yelling, but most shook themselves out of the spectacle and managed to start manipulating their controls while he barked orders. “What’s it doing? Why’s it here? Is it charging weapons? Is it friendly? Run a full diagnostic on what’s actually working on this hunk of junk, and get me some answers.”

“It’s readying shields, sir. I think.” Someone called.

Jetock narrowed his eyes in disbelief. “It thinks we’re going to attack it?”

“Maybe, Sir. I think we’d better aim and… uh… the… the… shit, I don’t know, sir. What just happened?”

Nadir stepped closer to him. “Admiral, I don’t think we should fire at it. If it’s charging shields now, then it might not have had them up when it came through that… thing. It could just be a precaution. We have shields too.”

“Officer Nadir has a point, Sir. I… On second thought, I don’t advise engaging.” The crewman returned.

Jetock rubbed his ridged temple for a moment as he ruminated on their options, and eventually nodded at the both of them. “Agreed. We are Dreif; proud, headstrong, but… Not idiotic. It may yet be friendly. We will see. Keep weapons uncharged… I need to make an announcement, for the good of the colony.” The commander seated himself once more, and eyed the ship in the viewscreen wearily while the half-cocoon of shielding knitted itself together around the vast, vast craft.

He reached to his control panel and tapped a few commands, before taking a deep breath and tuning his microphone into every loudspeaker across the fleet.

“Fellow colonisers, this is Admiral Jetock Ir-Dinar. Many of you may be wondering what we just witnessed. Some of you may already know, or have heard rumours… And many of you are likely scared. This is natural.” He paused, unsure of how to avert a tone of alarm. “… And what we have seen just now is an extremely rare event; the very action that gives the Star-splitters their name.” He paused again, to allow the words to sink in. The words ‘Star-splitter’ were not easily swallowed by most Dreif, who dismissed their existence almost in its entirety. “I will tell you all this now: no member of our species has ever come into direct contact with a Star-splitter. That’s why we call them what we do; we don’t even know what they are. All we know is that sometimes, they appear, and it is… An experience unto itself, to say the least.” He took another breath. “Just please, I can’t stress this enough – do not panic. We have not attempted contact yet. I will keep you all as updated as I can. This is Admiral Jetock, and I will make sure this video uplink is maintained for as long as is necessary.”

And, sadly, that was all that he could promise for the people of his colony. What happened from now on was a mystery to him. He just waited while people buzzed around him, nodding every so often when new systems came back online and were operational. He kept his eyes trained on the sleek ship in the distance, watching its shields finish building. When complete, the shell flashed once and faded into nothingness. Nadir returned to her Communications station.

The alert came not five minutes later when the Star-splitter ship turned on the spot to face the still Dreif fleet. The Admiral could see Nadir as she started whirring into action, fingers dancing across her control panel with lightning speed. The woman barely looked over her shoulder at him. “Sir, we’re receiving something.”

“From the craft?” He asked, leaning forward in his seat. She nodded.“Put it on-screen beside the video, Officer.”

“I don’t quite know what it is… It’s just… I don’t know. Putting it on the screen now.” Nadir said. A large, blue-toned box of text appeared on-screen. It contained very short lines of gibberish symbols, one after another. It was many thousands of lines long, and each of them looked different to the one before it. Nadir looked back to the Admiral, “It’s multi-layered, sir. We received many files that we were unable to find a way to execute, but there is one that our system recognizes. Shall I play it?”

“Go ahead, Officer.” He said. Somehow, it all looked so familiar.

An audio-stream began to play throughout the command deck. It was a voice, following the text they had on-screen. It pronounced the first line, then the next, and the next. “I might be wrong, Admiral,” Nadir said while the voice moved through the lines. “But I think they’re saying hello, in thousands of different languages.” She said.

“Is there a language in there that the computer recognises?” The Admiral asked. He was feeling somewhat confident in this – aggressive species did not attempt to negotiate a common language for first contact.

“Running a search…” She mumbled before nodding. “There are three; Aldahain, Lun-duin, and Sennur. Sennur is the closest analogue to ours, so the computer can more accurately translate it than any other.”

“And what do the messages say?”

Nadir smiled. “Hello.”

Jetock grinned, gently bumping his fist into the arm of his seat. “Write this down and have the computer translate it to Sennur,” He said. Nadir made a few adjustments on her screen and waited for his first words.

“Warm greetings from the Dreif. We recognize this language, but I am afraid that we do not speak it naturally; this is a translation with our ship’s computer. We are alright with speaking through text, but ask if you, by chance, know our native language, Cerasish. It would be more comfortable to speak to you through this.” Jetock nodded at Nadir. “Send a copy of the same message in Cerasish, as well.”

They received a reply back almost instantly. Nadir blinked and repeated it out loud. “What does it sound like?”

Jetock frowned. “Convert a sample thirty minute conversation from our library into the audio format that we were able to play from their ship. Send it and a transcript together.”

They did not expect to get another message back within the next ten minutes. Nadir scratched the side of her head and looked back at the Admiral while she wordlessly displayed it:

“Hello. Greetings, Dreif. I know this language that you speak. May we converse through video, if you have the means?”

Jetock blinked at it as well. He hadn’t expected them to know Cerasish.

Nadir seemed unable to stop herself from asking what everyone in the room was also thinking. “… How do they know our language if we have never come into contact with them before?”

The Admiral didn’t have a satisfying answer, and gave a very slight shrug in response. “I’m unsure. But now we have a channel of communications,” He stood, snapping the buttons of his uniform shut, “And I don’t think we should waste that. Attempt a connection, main screen.” The man attempted to tame the mess of black spines on the back of his head. As ambassador for his species, he needed to look presentable.

And quite suddenly, the centre screen filled with the image of a creature. Bipedal like the Dreif, it had two eyes, and smooth, ridge-less, off-white and slightly pink skin. Its eyes, unlike the Dreif norm of black all the way across, were white around the edges and bore concentric rings of blue and black in their centre. Short, brown patches of fur grew from the top of its head, where the typical Dreif bore their skin-coloured crest. It was a strange-looking creature, but not hideous to behold.

It spoke first, with a smile – Jetock noted that the creatures capable of smiling seemed to all gift it with the same connotation – and tone of voice quite up-beat and cheery.

“Oh! Look at you. You’ve got three eyes.”

Jetock cleared his throat and glanced around at the others. Not quite what he expected. “And… You have two,” He replied. “I am Admiral Jetock Ir-Dinar, commander of this ship and the others in our group. We are of the Dreif.

The creature on the screen nodded quickly. “Hmm. Dreif. Last encountered seventeen years previous. I didn’t recognize the architecture of your ships – they’re different.”

Jetock’s brow creased a little. “So you have met with us before.”

The creature laughed. “Oh, no – not me, personally.”

“Someone else on your ship, then?” Jetock asked.

The smile faded from the creature’s face. It seemed unsure of what to say for a moment. “No. A different ship, a different time.”

Jetock frowned again, but attempted to lighten things up, as he sensed he was bringing the unusually cheery alien down. “Sorry. I just don’t know how you know our language if you’ve never been in contact with us before.”

The blue-eyed thing looked at him for a moment and made the same confused face as Jetock. “I learned it. You sent me more than enough material.”

The Admiral tilted his head to the side; Nadir did the same. “You learned our entire language in ten minutes?”

“Twelve minutes and fifty-three seconds; technically, I am still learning as we converse.” The creature seemed quite matter-of-fact about it.

“That’s exceptionally fast!” Jetock said with a grin. “I suppose you are the only person on your ship capable of learning like that.”

The creature made another one of those slightly confused faces, and tilted his head into a nod. “I suppose you would think it amazing.”

Jetock’s nostrils flared. Maybe it was due to the language still being new to it, but the creature was managing to be condescending. He tried another approach. “Anyway. I am Jetock, of the Dreif. What about yourself?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Do you have a name? A species? A place which you call home?”

“Oh!” The creature smiled again. “My name is Ira. I am modelled after the human race, a species based approximately two hundred and seventeen light years away.”

To say that Ira and his ship were a long way from home was putting it extremely lightly, but that wasn’t what was on the Admiral’s mind. He cleared his throat. “Modelled after? You aren’t human, yourself, Ira?” He asked.

Ira gave a little half-smile. “No. I am this ship. It is me. I am... Artificial Intelligence, I guess, if you’d like to use an archaic term. Though my intelligence is very real.” Ira responded. “If your questions have been answered satisfactorily, Admiral Jetock Ir-Dinar, I would now like to ask some of my own.”

They were talking to a machine! An extremely advanced one, albeit, but a machine nonetheless. Looking at Ira on the screen, especially as he had no other human to compare him to, he seemed perfectly alive. His eyes glistened, he shifted on the spot occasionally, and he even seemed to swallow and breathe as well as any real life form. Jetock glanced to the other crewmen briefly when he was prepositioned for a few answers of his own. “Well… I don’t see why not, Ira. What do you want to know?”

The artificial human didn’t hesitate. “Where are you and your ships going?”

The Admiral smiled warmly at the thought. “We’re headed for our new home.”

Ira joined him in a smile. “So, you’re just passing through? Why are you moving planets?”

“Actually, we’re quite close to our destination,” the Admiral noted the machine’s smile drooped a bit, “But we’re moving because of overpopulation. When you run out of land and can’t build up anymore… Sometimes it’s just time to start anew, somewhere else.”

“Right,” Ira said, “but where is this new planet? I would be happy to show you to it, and perhaps make sure you’re not troubled. Does that sound good?”

The Admiral just shook his head and politely waved his hand, dismissing Ira’s suggestion. “No need; we’re only four days’ travel away from it. But thank you.”

The machine looked troubled for a moment, and sighed. “Oh, dear me. This is going to be awkward. Well, awkward for me. Unpleasant for you, really. I shouldn’t have said hello. That’s always been a problem of mine – too friendly for my own good.” The machine was mumbling to itself.

Jetock raised an eyebrow. “… Awkward, how?”

Ira breathed another, laboured sigh, and touched a hand to his forehead, as if he had a persistent headache. “You can’t live on that planet, Admiral Jetock. Not… Not you, specifically – all of you.”

The Admiral took a step forward and stared at the screen. His gaze was severe. “Why, Ira? Our latest scans tell us the atmosphere is still perfect. Its orbit has not been deteriorating. I don’t see why we can’t.”

Ira made a sound, like a struggled laugh, except he wasn’t amused. It was sarcastic and mocking. “It’s nothing to do with the condition of the planet. This star system is owned – was discovered – by humanity. And it is my duty to protect it, until such time as we require its sanctuary.”

Jetock’s hands balled into trembling fists at his sides. His jaws were clenched, and eyes narrowed to slits. When he spoke, his tone was uneven, bubbling against his utter rage. “… You’re telling me… that humans claimed this planet, but do not have a plan to use it? And that my people – millions of Dreif, weary from a long, long journey through a harsh and inhospitable void – have no right to set foot upon the ground that we specifically set out to colonise?!” He transitioned into a shout, “All because a species that we haven’t met before found it first!?”

“Jetock,” Ira began, but the Admiral interrupted.

“You’re not even using it! It’s just sitting there! This is our new home! A place for the Dreif to prosper and live peacefully!”

The artificial human’s features contorted into a frown. “You don’t understand, Admiral. When you and your ships entered this star system, you triggered an alarm. I arrived as quickly as I could. Explain to me why, out of all the species that could have discovered this planet, that you deserve to have it, when it has already been claimed by another. You’re being unreasonable, Admiral. Think.”

Jetock bit back on his lip, about to lash back at the arrogant non-life on the other side of the screen, but was interrupted.

“Because we are in need!” Nadir shouted, knuckles white around the edges of her control panel as she stood from her chair. “You can split the fabric of space, bend it to your will, and appear out of nothing! How great a distance are you able to cover in just a few months with that kind of technology? Because we only travelled twenty-seven, and it took us twelve years! We had no way of knowing you even existed.”

“And I ask again; both of you, this time – or even anyone on your deck who cares to speak up – who are you to think that just because you lack it, that you are entitled to it? This is the property of my creators, and your ships, Admiral, are trespassing. Provide me with an answer that explains why you deserve this human planet, and we’ll talk. Otherwise, I am afraid that you must leave the system. As I have said before, I am happy to guide you to a more suitable planet, should you have one in your database that is not also under human domain. But you cannot stay here.”

“There is no other planet, Ira! It would take us a hundred and fifty years to reach the next on our list…” The Admiral spat.

“You could return home.” The AI said, as if it were the only other solution.

“We have been dreaming of the sun on our new home for twelve years, Ira. Returning is simply not an option for us.” Jetock was shaking. This was not happening.

“Then what are you going to do?” The machine had the gall to ask.

Jetock cleared his throat. “Surely we can reach some sort of a compromise. We have technology, ties to other races…”

“Compromises are for when two parties deserve something in equal amounts.” The machine said without so much as blinking.

“And if we were to ignore you? What if we just went anyway?” He said with a smirk.

Ira’s expression flatlined. His eyes went to half-mast, and he became still. His youthful, cheerful disposition was replaced by a business-like monotone. “… Your ships would be reduced to slag, your lives would be lost… and a chance at life somewhere else, however far away and inconvenient for you at the moment, wasted.”

Nadir slapped her hands down upon her control panel and spoke with fury. “You’re insane! A pile of circuits gone mad with power! Surely if your creators were here, they would not openly advocate the slaughter of millions of harmless Dreif!”

Ira drew a very slight, almost imperceptible smirk. “Not openly, no. But you again ignore the fact that you are the ones committing the crime, here. I know many others like myself who would have simply barked at you to leave, and had you refused, killed you all. You’re really quite lucky to have met me.”

Jetock smacked at his control panel and slumped back into his seat, fuming. The spines that grew out of the back of his head twitched while he breathed firmly in and out. They should have opened fire as soon as Ira’s craft came out of the rift.

Nadir sighed softly, and drew the mechanical creature’s attention. “… May we have a while to think, Ira?”

He smiled pleasantly. “Of course; I’m perfectly reasonable, and this is a big decision for you all. Please note, however, that should your ships make any sudden movements, or try to get closer to the protected planet, they will be destroyed.” He closed his eyes and clasped both hands before his chest. “Toodles, now.”

The transmission cut to black, and hell erupted on the command deck.

--

Notifying the entire fleet did not go over well.

Jetock stayed in the command centre for the days to follow. Slumped in his chair, his face in his hand, he remained unmoving and stagnant. The Habitionals were full to capacity with citizens from the other ships – they would be returning home. One of their warships would escort them, and the Ydarion would take point on the way.

The Anderlan had not been so empty since its time in the launch bay before the beginning of their journey. All that remained were a few thousand men and women spread between twelve warships and a command centre. They were all skeleton crews.

The Admiral – should he even call himself that anymore? – felt a warmth on his knee, and opened an eye to look. There was a hand on his knee.

“You must eat something, Sir.” Nadir said.

He shook his head.

“Why?” She asked.

“Why do you stay, Nadir?” His voice was hoarse, “The return fleet could use you. You would be valuable – practically Admiral.”

The woman sunk into a crouch beside the chair. Her head tilted to the side, and her mouth opened very slightly.

“You would go far, Nadir.” He said.

She squeezed his knee. “Because I believe in what is right, Sir. Not what is most convenient for me. I would rather face my death on principle than shy away out of cowardice.”

Jetock chuckled drily. “You’re a fool.”

“I at least have the sense to eat, unlike our dear Admiral.”

--

Thirteen ships remained to face Ira and his gargantuan craft; the others had already jumped into hyperspace to leave.

Jetock stood in the centre of the command deck. Ten other people, including Nadir, manned the consoles around them. He felt old and weary; a Dreif in his fifties, and he felt old. There was humour somewhere in that, he was sure.

Nadir activated the communication link between all of their remaining ships, so that Jetock could speak.

“My friends,” the Admiral addressed his people. “You have all been braver than any seasoned veteran that I have ever known. And that’s because we know how this is going to turn out. I won’t insult your dedication by lying to you – it is very likely that we will die tonight.” He paused for a moment. “But that is not what is important anymore. What is important is that we let it be known that the Dreif will fight! We will not bow down. We will not allow ourselves to become intimidated by a race that hides behind its machines.” Jetock then sighed and smiled. “And if by some chance, we do make it out of this… I owe each and every one of you a very stiff drink. Thank you all. It’s been an honour to serve with you.” The man turned his head to his left. “Nadir? Contact Ira.”

“Sir.” She nodded and manipulated a few controls.

Ira’s peculiarly-structured face appeared on the screen. He appeared very happy. “Admiral Jetock Ir-Dinar! I take it this is goodbye?”

“Those who wanted to leave, Ira, left already.”

“Oh.”

“The Dreif do not lay down to anyone,” He said.

Ira bit his lip. Strange habit, for a machine. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Admiral.”

“No, you’re not.” Jetock said.

Ira smiled. The transmission cut to black.

The Dreif ships broke their loose formation as the Admiral gave the word. High-energy particle fire swept across the bleakness of space from the warships that sped alongside the mammoth human craft, illuminating its shields with radiating, red-glowing weapons fire. Hundreds of twenty-barrelled artillery batteries took aim and laid into the Human shields. Thousands of bright flashes sparked against the barrier per second, each a miniature and imperceptibly brief explosion. Every command deck across the fleet turned into a nest of chaos as the Dreif barked to evade, refocus their fire, and begin their second sweep.

Ira’s ship remained still after the Dreif sped past it – eerily so. Their first volley seemed to have about as much effect on the integrity of the craft and its shields as a small child screaming in a room full of deaf people. Not to be deterred, the Dreif crafts arced around the vast thing and redoubled their efforts. Their carpets of shells threw molten tendrils of slag into the vacuum of space after striking, and their laser fire bore down against the shell of pure energy, throwing purple and green splashes of clashing energies across the impact sites.

But the Human shields worked too fast and too well. No sooner had the Dreif scraped away the first few layers when, incredibly, they began to regenerate. It was a damage race of the worst kind; ship commanders shouted for overwhelming force, but they were already tapped out. Everything they could give was being given, and Ira hadn’t even bothered to move his craft. Any of their regular enemies would have buckled to the first volley; twelve Dreif warships were a formidable sight, no matter the size of your ships or the capability of your shields.

The behemoth craft seemed to be the exception to this rule.

When Ira returned fire, it was swift and brutal. An incomprehensibly bright flash of light preceded a thin, off-blue rail of energy that fired from a hidden weapon bay. It met the Ulterkor head-on. The focused beam pierced the warship’s shields instantly, and something within it detonated. The Ulterkor released a death-cry of red-white energy that consumed it, and the remains showered across the Human ship’s shields. The Dreif evaded to the best of their abilities, but Ira’s fire was far too accurate. Another four ships fell to a battery of the same weapons fire that the Ulterkor did, leaving seven warships and the Admiral’s command barge.

Clouds of white streaks suddenly burst from weapons platforms on the sides and back of Ira’s ship, whipping around to home in on the Dreif ships that streaked past. The Dreif released cluster after cluster of catchers; large devices that slammed into the thousands of missiles following them, causing them to detonate early. The Ultimer caught two particularly evasive missiles to its rear, and the craft’s shields lit up with a carpet of blue sparks. Human weaponry seemed adept at draining shields, for it wasn’t long before the eggshell of light around the Dreif craft became unstable and shattered. The captain of that craft turned his ship around and made directly for the side of the human craft.

The Anderlan lost contact with Ultimer when it rammed ineffectually against the shields, succeeding only in sparing its occupants the horrors of explosive decompression where the human weaponry had eaten through its hull.

It was a slaughter. They lost another ship every few seconds, cutting their offensive capabilities down like a mower through a field of flowers, while Ira’s arsenal only seemed to increase in size and ferocity.

Admiral Jetock stared hard at the diagram of their battle; the friendly green spheres of his fellow ships disappeared one by one, and each winking light going grey felt like a spear through his heart. Soon enough, the only light that he could see was their own. The Anderlan drifted; Ira seemed to think it appropriate to torture him with the knowledge that everyone he commanded died because they were stubborn, just like him. Their craft came about to the front of Ira’s. The navigation officers slowed the barge down when they looked back and saw their Admiral shaking. The deaths of thousands were on his head.

Ira appeared on the centre screen. “Leave this system, Admiral. Take your ship and leave.”

Jetock’s heart pounded uncomfortably hard. His eyes turned to his fellow crewmen. They stared back, still and afraid.

But eventually, they did move. Everyone took a deep breath, sighed, and turned back towards the front screen. They calmly seated themselves at their stations and looked forward. Jetock looked back at the others, and Nadir. She looked back at him, gently shook her head, and stood up straight, tall and proud. He felt, strangely, like himself again.

The Admiral turned back to Ira, stood up straight, and made a very rude gesture with his hand.

Ira made his little half-smile, just before the Command Barge was swallowed by light.