“Comms, incoming. Single tone,” Glyta said. “We’re go.”

“Any following data?” Shagda Olthympo asked.

“Hold on, quick burst…’Eight Pick.’ Not sure what that means.”

“Vidol’s playing it close,” Olthympo said. “Can’t blame her, but would be nice to know their condition.”

“Whose condition, ma’am?”

“We’re picking up eight people,” Utti Larasin said. “Not the three we’d expected. Think they’ll fit?”

“If they’re all healthy, then yeah…maybe. Flypaper to Acolytes.”

“Wilson here. Go ahead.”

“It may get a bit cramped back there. If we need you to launch and return to the Bass on your own power, can you?”

“Not a problem, Crewmate,” Lauren Wilson said. “We have short-range warp. Not enough for interstellar travel, but enough to bounce through the system.”

“Good, good. Not that we’ll necessarily need you to, just want you to be prepared. Zhe-minus four hours to start of ingress.”

“Affirm, Crewmate. We’ll be ready.”

* * *

Mpola looked around the cramped saferoom with no small amount of satisfaction. In ten hours, they’d managed to erase the most sensitive data remaining, and while the insectoids could still trace the tap on their communications network if they found it, they had done a better job than she’d hoped of camouflaging its existence.

That was in no small part due to the work of the humans, who had immediately hopped-to as soon as they began to disassemble the base. Though they were mostly pilots – a group never known for its rigid adherence to military protocol, no matter what their size or species – they had sprung into action, and when she’d explained how the tap had been connected, Col. Uɉa had led a team of engineers along the cable line, and set small thermal incendiary charges. They’d blown the borehole shut, and while it could still be found – indeed, probably would be found, eventually – it would take the insectoids more time, and more effort, and that would give them more of a chance to use the data she had downloaded before the Insectoids realized they had it.

Mpola had never cared much about human emancipation. Those few times it had come up, she’d been supportive, more or less, she supposed, but it wasn’t a big deal to her. She was focused on other things. When emancipation had been passed into law, she hadn’t celebrated or anything; she’d thought it was probably nice, and then gone back to work.

Joseu had been happy. She remembered that. He’d always respected the Floor Leader, of course – Zeramblin could do no wrong in his book. And he’d worked with the Imperial Ambassador to Earth a few times, as the Sol Earth system was by far the closest one with another ambassador. He’d quite respected Ambassador Bass. Mpola had too, she supposed, but she’d been busy with other things.

She wondered, to her shame, how many other Titans like her had been busy with other things, while these people waited patiently for their chance for mere equality. She had supported human emancipation, and agreed that they were probably her equals – but she had not supported it with the urgency it deserved, and that made her wonder if she really had believed in equality back then.

It wasn’t the most pressing matter right now. The most pressing matter was getting the frak out of here. But she was looking forward to the chance to work more with these people. And glad that others had made sure she could.

“Ma’am,” said Nasti, breaking her reverie, “we’re ready.”

“Very good, Decanus,” Vidol said. She walked to the center of the room, and looked around one last time. She wouldn’t miss this place, but she would never forget its importance. “Embassy-Guard, you have charges set?”

“Yes, Embassy-Guard-Leader,” Embassy-Guard signaled.

“Excellent. Col. Uɉa, are your people ready?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ahek said. “We’re prepared for egress on your order.”

“The order is given,” Vidol said. “Evacuate the redoubt. Civilians, please stay with Mr. Embassy-Guard and Decanus Vidol.”

“Acolytes, close up and lift,” Ahek ordered, and the three ships obeyed, hovering off the table and flying into the middle of the room.

They walked to a platform in the corner. It was a secondary shaft, kone not tied to the elevator shaft; when they’d designed the saferoom, they’d assumed that the elevator shaft might not be functional. The eight evacuees just fit onto the lift, with Acolyte Six settling in between the feet of the Krator-Imperator. (This was per her orders; she didn’t want anyone accidentally stepping on the craft, no matter how resilient it was supposed to be.) Acolytes Nine and 22 lifted above the group, and led on.

They’d already flown reconnaissance, so they knew that it was a clear shot all the way to their destination. Still, Ahek kept her eyes peeled as they made the vertical climb; the platform below them was using anti-grav to propel it, and was unenclosed. She didn’t want any surprises to derail them. She knew her pilots could dodge any potential collisions, but the people below couldn’t.

They were all on edge, looking for any fail point, but they saw none; they came out at their subterranean destination without incident, and the group stepped off the platform, Acolyte Six rising off the platform in the center of the group.

“Time check?” Mpola asked.

“Zhe-minus-thirty-three minutes on my mark…mark,” Nasti said.

“Allright. Mr. Embassy-Guard, open the hatch, give me recon.”

Embassy-Guard quickly clambered up a ladder, and spun the locking wheel; he pushed the hatch up just enough to peer through. He raised his tail up straight, then shook it. “Clear,” his translator said.

“Good. Col. Uɉa?”

“Can you give us just a bit more room, Mr. Embassy-Guard?” Ahek called over her comms. She nodded as he pushed up just a bit. “All right, 22, Ms. al-Zayadeen, on my wing; Six, Emidus, begin the countdown, begin to bring FCF drive online in T-minus thirty minutes on my mark…mark.”

“Roger, Nine,” Zery said. “Look forward to seeing you soon.”

The two Acolytes slipped through the gap in the hatch, and in a blink, they were gone, gravitics pushing them skyward.

“Come back down, leave the hatch ajar,” Mpola said. Embassy-Guard did not bother to climb down; the drop was a very short one, and Avartle had evolved to race through trees. He simply leaped, gracefully, alighting on his bottom four limbs.

“All right,” Mpola said, looking around the small chamber. She could see everyone there had the same sense of nervous anticipation that she did. “Folks, we’ve waited months,” she said, with a grin. “We can wait thirty minutes more.”

“Trying to convince yourself, ma’am?” Nasti said with a smirk that was wildly outside of acceptable protocol. It would have gotten her upbraided a few months ago, and perhaps someday would again. But as they had long ago crossed from fire team to family, Mpola simply laughed.

* * *

Above them, the Nine and 22 zipped heavenward. They separated, spreading out a good kilometer, trying to triangulate the soft ping of the Flypaper.

“All right…almost have it…looks like…zero-zero-seven-point-two carom two-niner-niner-point-six,” said Hercule.

“Nine, this is 22, we have triangulation, zero-zero-seven-point-two carom two-niner-niner-point-six.”

“22, Nine, adjust your attitude to intercept,” Ahek said. She frowned as she did it; this was going perfectly to script so far.

She didn’t trust it.

Still, she said, “Mr. Akreyi, send out four chirps, channel six.” As long as the script kept working, they’d follow it to the letter.

* * *

“Four chirps,” Glyta said, up above in the Flypaper. “They have us, and are moving to intercept.”

“Excellent. One chirp back,” Olthympo said.

“Going well so far,” Utti Larasin said.

“Shut your frakking mouth,” Olthympo replied, keeping her eye on her landing zone. Sixteen minutes to ground.

“All right,” Mpola said, checking her chronometer, “we’re going to go up above. As we said before, Nasti, you lead, followed by Embassy-Guard. Weapons hot, shoot to kill. Then, in this order: Dr. Regda, Ms. Usilu, Ambassador Ssutassa, Ms. Abidilidi, Mr. Stauseo, Acolyte Six, and last, me. Go.”

They emerged, one-by-one, into the darkness of the night. This was odd, of course; the night on Hive Prime was generally lit quite well. The Insectoids didn’t care about the beauty of the night sky, they were far more concerned with utility, and more photons meant more utility. But much of this part of Hive Prime had been battered, and while they would repair it eventually, until they did there was no point in lighting it. Insectoids would never bother lighting something they didn’t need to light.

“Any sign of life?” Mpola asked.

Embassy-Guard coughed; the air in the atmosphere on Hive Prime was far more polluted than the air in the bunker. He had forgotten about that; it had been quite a while since he’d been up above. He signed, “Still clear,” and coughed again.

“Ten minutes,” Nasti said.

“All right. Ms. Jokhanan, set countdown on charges, nine-minute countdown. Civilians and Acolyte Six, move to the center of this position.”

“I’ve got a gun,” Sibel Abidilidi said. “I’ll use it.”

“Okay, fair,” Mpola said. “You take my position here. You two, we’ll set up a square defensive position. And keep your eyes wide,” she added. “Maybe the Insectoids don’t have any idea we’re here, but frak if I’m gonna assume that.”

* * *

The Flypaper’s long-range camera locked onto the position. “We have eight figures. Six Titans, one Avartle, one…is that a Tusola?”

“Looks to be, Mr. Larasin,” Olthympo said. “Could be their ambassador, they reported him missing. Asked if we’d seen him on the evac. Ms. Idisoko, how’s your Tusolan?”

“It’s not great. I can get by. But if it’s their ambassador, he probably knows Standard Galactic. Assuming he doesn’t have a translator.”

“And he almost certainly does. All right,” Olthympo said. “Time?”

“Three minutes, ten seconds,” Larasin said.

“Mr. Stopri,” Emidus Zery said, “begin primary ignition.”

“Yes, sir. Primary ignition. FCF drive is coming online. Primary Transfer Loop beginning cycle…Chromatic Trigger engaged. We are at zero-point-two percent power, and climbing. Estimate two minutes, forty-five seconds to eighty percent.”

“Stand by to spin up the warp drive,” Emidus said. “But hold until I give the order.”

“Yes, sir, I’m ready when you are. Chromatic Trigger on first bleed, three percent power.”

“Understood, you can belay further updates unless something goes wrong,” Emidus said.

“Goddess forbid,” Amon Stopri said, quietly.

“If anyone could, Sen. Tarsuss would, I think,” Zery chuckled.

* * *

“Look!” Nasti said, pointing up at the sky.

It was a small dot, barely visible against the background haze. But if you’d tracked an inbound shuttle – and they all had at some point – then you knew how to read what that little dot in the sky was doing. This one was heading right toward them, right on schedule.

For the people who’d been stranded on Hive Prime, it was the most beautiful thing they’d ever seen.

Acolyte Six lifted off, and moved to a bird’s-eye position. It began a lazy circle, one it cut off and switched up every few loops. They did this until the Flypaper passed them, dropping toward the ground with its landing gear extended.

The back of the craft opened, and Shagda Olthympo stepped out, and saluted, flanked by Utti Larasin. She saluted. “Krator-Imperator Vidol,” she said, “welcome back to the Imperial Military.”

“Crewmate…Olthympo,” Mpola said, reading her name off her helmet, “It’s good to be back with you. More Acolytes?”

Acolytes Twelve, 24, and 26 had lifted off, and exited the bay, rising to join their fellow fighters above them.

“They’re making room for you. They’ll ignite FCF in ten minutes, same time as the Nine and the 22.”

“Good, good,” Mpola said. “We should get on board.”

“Right,” Shagda said. “First, let’s….”

She didn’t finish explaining what they should do first. As she turned to look over her shoulder, back at the Flypaper, Shagda caught the flash out of the corner of her eye. She had just enough time to register that she was about to die before the blast struck the ship, and it exploded into dozens of fragments.

“Frak! Frak! Frak!” Ahek shouted. “We have hostiles! Insectoid gunship inbound fast, two-seven-four-carom-five-three-three, gorram it! Sachini, ignite the FCF! Twelve, 22, 24, 26, this is Nine, ignite your FCF! Six, Emidus….”

“Nine, this is Six, we can hold….”

“The frak you can, Emidus!” Ahek replied. “You have your orders!”

“You’re sitting ducks, Nine. You don’t have weapons.”

“Well, we’ll have to dodge for a few minutes.”

“We have sixty fighters, inbound on our position,” Akreyi said. “Ma’am….”

“Nine, this is Twelve, without at least one gun….”

“The Six has to get out. None of the rest of us do,” Ahek said. “Crewmate Zery, carry out my orders.”

Emidus swallowed, hard. His instincts were screaming at him to ignore his CAAG, to stay around, provide them with cover. They just needed a couple of minutes, that’s all. Hells, he could argue long enough to give them time.

But he didn’t. He turned the Nine’s nose skyward, and pushed it as fast as it would go. “Godspeed, Nine. See you back on the Bass.”

“Affirm that,” Ahek said.

“Mr. Stopri,” Zery said, quietly, “maximum warp, now.”

The Six shimmered, and disappeared.

* * *

Back in the cockpit of the Flypaper, Glyta picked herself up off her controls. She wasn’t wearing armor. The frak was she thinking? She had a cut on her head, she felt dizzy. Concussion. She had a concussion.

Why was she upset about armor? Right, Insectoids. Hive Prime. Ship was on fire. Concussion. She had a concussion. Ship was on fire. Also, concussion. Bad. Need…need that thing.

First aid kit. Right. Concussion. She should get it. The ship was on fire. That was bad. But this concussion…she needed…there it was. Yellow. Blinking light. Press the blue button, that’s what you do. “Idisoko…concussion, emergency, concussion,” she said, and the yellow machine pinged, and it reflected the fire, and then it beeped, and a metal arm popped out, armed with a long needle. Another arm seized her, and held her head tight, as the first arm shone a laser on her neck, looking for her carotid artery. It found it, and the needle jammed into her.

Pain. She wanted to flinch, but the other arm was holding her head fast, and the robot dispensed its dose of cortexifan, and withdrew the needle, using a secondary hypodermic to seal the puncture and prevent bleeding. This was standard training. It was dangerous, but in a situation where a ship was down, it could save lives, Glyta knew this. That’s why they’d trained on it so much, so if she found herself in just this situation, with the ship on….

“Frak!” she shouted, as her cognition came back. She grabbed the only weapon she could see – a sidearm – and looked back. There was a wall of fire where the hangar had been.

“Emergency egress, show me lights,” she said. She followed the blinking lights up a wall and to a small access panel on the ceiling.

Well, frak. She couldn’t stay here.

* * *

“Say again, Col. Uɉa!”

“I say again, we have six-zero fighters and three gunships inbound, ETA one minute. Frak!” she shouted, as phase cannon fire split the air. “We’re gonna pull up. We’ll have weapons hot in about two minutes. As soon as we do, we’ll take them on.”

“You have five ships, there are sixty fighters,” Mpola said.

“Yeah,” Ahek said. “This Acolyte alone took out eleven hundred at Tau Ceti. Sixty is nothing.”

Mpola smiled in spite of herself. She expected no less. Didn’t matter their size, pilots should be gorram arrogant. “You still can’t get us off the rock, and we just blew the safehouse. Get to safety.”

“Negative,” Ahek replied. “My orders come from Praetor-Imperator Nix and Admiral Martínez. They both outrank you. Primary objective has been met, ma’am. I’ll be damned if I ignore my secondary as long as there’s hope.”

“Well, if nothing else, let’s take out as many of the frakkers as we can.”

“Fucking right, ma’am,” Ahek said. “Nine out.”

“Embassy-Guard, Nasti, weapons hot, stand by to defend, fire team, I will take point.”

“Ma’am, you’re in no condition….”

“I said, weapons hot!” Mpola knew why Nasti had objected; the blast from the ship had killed its pilot instantly; had Mpola not been standing where she was, she would have died too, but fortunately, Crewmate Olthympo had managed to absorb most of the shrapnel.

Most of it. Mpola’s leg had the consistency and color of ground sim-meat, and had Nasti not drug her back to safety and applied lattice gel, she likely would have bled out. As it was, there was no way she could put weight on it. All she could do, she expected, is take out a lot of the frakkers and maybe, just maybe, help get the others home.

“Acolyte Nine, Colonel Uɉa, this is Vidol,” Mpola said.

“Ma’am?”

“if you do have to bug out, I need you to get a message to my husband. Tell him that it had nothing to do with my job. Nothing. He’ll know what that means.”

“Ma’am, you can tell him yourself,” Ahek said. “Just hold your position for two minutes, and we’ll clear this mess out.”

She didn’t add that this assumed they could dodge enemy fire for two minutes; she wasn’t sure they could, not on backup gravitics, but if they couldn’t, they’d be dead anyhow.

“Why don’t we retreat back into the hold?” Dr. Regda asked.

“Because they’re in visual range,” Mpola said. “They’d just follow us in.”

“Still, it might be safer….”

“Ain’t safe,” a voice croaked. “Not anywhere.”

“Mr. Larasin, you definitely aren’t in any condition….”

“I’m dyin’,” Utti said. “Nothin’ gonna stop that.”

He was right. They’d applied lattice gel to him too, but while Imperial armor was strong, it wasn’t designed to take an explosion from the rear of a ship at close range. A fair amount of the armor and ship were now embedded in his back and gut; if they could get him out in the next ten, fifteen minutes, he’d have a chance. But they couldn’t. And everyone knew it.

“Help me get my gun out,” Larasin said, “and aim me in the direction of those frakkers.”

Nasti looked at Embassy-Guard. So much waiting, and so close to home.

They grabbed the broken officer, and though he howled in pain, they maneuvered him into position. He sighted his weapon toward the sky.

“We should get underground,” Regda said.

“There’s no underground anymore,” Sibel said, laying down next to Larasin and aiming in the same direction. “There’s just here.”

* * *

“Tell me we have weapons, Hercule.”

“Working on it, Fatou, sixty seconds.”

“Not fast enough. As usual.”

“All Acolytes, scramble,” Ahek called to her squadron. “Insectoid fighters are within firing range.”

Col. Uɉa didn’t have to tell them twice, as the sky lit up with incoming phase cannonfire. Isra al-Zayadeen willed the 22 into a quick climb, as Hercule swore at the FCF drive. They were so close. So close….

“All right,” Hercule said. “We will have the drive up in ten seconds.”

Isra said, “I…oh, no.”

A phase blast clipped the belly of the 22. Had it been aimed just a hundredth of a degree higher, the 22 would have been destroyed completely, but that was hardly comforting to the crew inside. The avionics were gone, the weapons, the gravitics…and the FCF drive.

Completely dead, the 22 hung in the air for just a moment.

And then it began to fall.