Nasti didn’t need the ship’s gauges to tell her that the relay had come online; the kick from the engines sent a shudder through the ship, and she had to fight against the ship’s sudden lurch to port. “Frak yes!” she shouted, as she pushed thrusters to full. “Nice work!” she called back, as she turned the ship toward what looked to be a clear run out of the gravity well.

The people aft were not as gleeful.

Glyta was reeling a single strand of her hair in, slowly and carefully.

There was still weight on it. Not much. Barely noticeable, really. But with each quarter-unit tug, its mass seemed to triple. She didn’t know what condition Hercule would be in. But she knew that she was pulling in dead weight.

She finally pulled his charred body into view, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t…a person. Not anymore. It was a cinder, with arms and legs burned halfway to their joints. Her hair, she saw with a sickening horror, was not so much tied around him as fused to him, a part of him, as was his flight suit.

But nothing was as horrifying to her as the thing she saw next. Because as horrific as it was, a quick death would have been noble and honorable and merciful.

But his chest…it still rose and fell. Barely. Imperceptibly. But enough for her to realize that he was not dead.

Just wounded so badly that death would seem preferable.

“Get lattice gel,” she said, barely above a whisper. “Fill a container. Anything will do.”

“What are you…oh, Gods,” Vif said, as she saw the slight squirm. “Frak me. Yeah, yeah, okay…here,” he said, pouring out the entirety of the gel in his medkit into a small bowl. It wasn’t really sterile, though lattice gel itself was supposed to fix that.

“I don’t know if you can hear me,” Glyta said, “but this will sting at first.”

She held the bowl right below the vent’s opening, and gave one last pull, and Hercule fell a short distance into the gel beneath him.

His body convulsed; the gel was infused with nanites that could recognize and heal simple tissue damage. It was, unfortunately, unable to distinguish between human and titan, and instead simply noted that skin was burned and needed debraiding, and that it would need to fill in and stabilize. The nanites quickly communicated to the pad on their pack that this was severe damage and would require medical attention, and that the gel would only stabilize for now.

The tiny figure stopped moving, and came to rest with the gel covering everything but the airway – the nanites sensed the pressure of air changing, and automatically stopped at the lips. They turned the long-chain hydrocarbons into topical analgesics, and soon, all motion from the tiny figure stopped, except for the slow, rhythmic motion of his chest, which was now quite horrifically only partially covered in dead skin, and partially muscle and fat and bone.

Glyta chewed her lip, and looked away; modern technology was a marvel, but she had gone through emergency medical training. If they were doing triage, he’d be a three. There was less than a 1% chance he could survive burns these bad. It was a miracle that he was still alive, period.

She hoped that she was not prolonging his agony. But as horrible as it was…she couldn’t end his life. Not when he had a chance.

The ship shuddered, as it breached the stratopause.

* * *

“Just a little bit more,” Ahek Uɉa murmured. “Another few clicks….”

The Acolytes were already far enough out of Hive Prime’s gravity well that they could jump to warp; there was nothing stopping them but the Rusely, which still needed just a little bit more. They were almost to the point where it would be safe to jump. Less than a minute. All they needed was for the skies to stay clear for a moment or two longer….

There was a sudden rush of distortion as a ship dropped out of warp. It was small for a capital ship, but far larger than the Rusely, and infinitely larger than any of the Acolytes. It had a simple design – three tendrils arcing off of a center hub.

It was an Insectoid ship, an Ψ101-class destroyer.

They were so frakking close.

“Rusely, it’s…it’s powering weapons,” Lauren Wilson called.

In the cockpit of the Rusely, Mpola Vidol bowed her head. They had almost made it.

The Insectoid craft broke in on a standard alert channel. “[Unidentified] [large-bipedal-mammal] vessel, turn off your engines and allow yourself to be [taken]. If you do not allow yourself to be [taken] you will be terminated.”

Mpola was about to tell the Insectoids to frak themselves, but she didn’t get the chance. Instead, another call broke over the channel; it was spoken in Mantid, but its speaker was no insectoid.

“Insectoid Destroyer [One Hundred One] [Designation], this is Kla-gxa Khek, [designated leader] vessel Bsss. Return to [waiting] and allow us to take our [vessel].”

Lauryna stared down the destroyer as the Bass sped toward them. “Range!” she barked.

“Thirty seconds, ma’am!” Trenna Segdi called.

“Izzy, signal the…never mind, they’re on it,” she said with a grin, as four Acolytes flipped on their transponders. “Mark the civilian craft, don’t let them out of your sight.”

“Vessel of [large bipedal mammals], you will leave or you will be destroyed. Five [Hive One] vessels will destroy you.”

“The last ship I commanded fraked up a Hive Ship,” Lauryna said; she had switched to Archavian. She was just buying time anyhow. “I’m not scared of you. Unidentified civilian vessel and Acolytes,” she added, “cease your climb and reverse course.”

The five ships all broke off their climb, and Lauryna was pleased to see the destroyer start to make its turn, right as they should, toward the Jona class freighter.

“Ms. Segdi?”

“We are in range, ma’am,” Trenna Segdi said.

“Fire.”

The main cannon of the Aertimus Bass was the most powerful phase cannon that the Empire had ever produced. Each shot drew the equivalent power of a starship at warp 9 for five hours. Trying to put that into terms that make sense won’t end up making sense to anyone, especially physicists, who will angrily tell you that you clearly are just making up numbers. (Well, to be fair, some physicists will look at the numbers and tell you that they made sense, but those that would generally at least worked with the Dodecahedron, the JTSF, or the physics department at Tannhauser Gate University.)

Anyhow, the point is that while it was limited to about three shots per day, the main cannon of the Bass was the second-most-powerful weapon ever devised by anyone in the Empire, after the late ISS Gyfjon. And so when the Bass sent a bolt of power screaming out of its cannon and into the destroyer, it hit the vessel amidships and rocked it as if a black hole had exploded there, which was because it had.

The destroyer lurched, and its lights went out as it lost power. Of course, the Bass also lurched, and its lights flickered; this was a ridiculous amount of power they’d just channeled.

“Report!” Lauryna called.

“We’re okay,” Riases replied. “But they weren’t lying, we have five hostiles inbound.”

“Unidentified civilian vessel, identify yourself,” Lauryna called.

“Bass, this is the WV Rusely, Mpola Vidol commanding. We are in need of assistance and declaring an emergency.”

“Rusely, follow the beacon in to Beth Six, Izzy, call the Acolytes home.”

“Yes ma’am,” Izzy said. “Col. Uɉa, dock Hotel-nine, combat landing approved.”

“Capt. Gwenn, be aware, we have injured.”

“Sickbay, prep for incoming,” Xianara said.

The Rusely shook as it approached the enormous vessel. “Frak me, that’s bigger than an Aspis II class carrier,” Mpola murmured.

“Leave for a few months and the whole Empire changes,” Nasti said, keeping on the beacon.

“Hostiles,” called the Bass, “closing on your tail at….”

“Got ‘em,” Ahek said, as three Acolytes made a quick pass, dispatching a few fighters that had launched from the destroyer.

“Never mind, nice work, Acolytes,” Izzy said.

The Rusely reached the shuttle bay, and Nasti didn’t hesitate to drop it into place with a thud. “Equalizing pressure, and killing the engines,” she said. “I’ll grab Embassy-Guard.”

Mpola was already out of her seat and walking aft, wincing with every step; she hadn’t realized how much pain she was in until she’d had a chance to rest. “Is Mr. Desrochers….?”

“He’s alive,” Glyta said, watching him. “Barely.”

“Barely is a chance,” Mpola said, though she could see how badly damaged he was. So many people had given so much to get them safely home. And they weren’t home safely yet.

“Ms. Idisoko, as my last order with you under my command, get him to sickbay on the bounce.”

Glyta stood, and saluted. “Aye, ma’am.” She grabbed the bowl and steadied it, and said a short prayer to Earia.

“Pressure is equalized,” Nasti called, moving back. She hoisted Embassy-Guard, and moved to the door.

“We’ll let the injured go first,” Mpola said to Vif, Myo, Sibel, and Srassuna.

“It is the only proper thing to do,” the Ambassador replied.

On the bridge, Lauryna Gwenn got the news she had been waiting for. “All ships home, except for the 22,” Izzy called. “It was destroyed.”

Not perfect. But it could be worse. “Helm, Mr. Pryma, come right zero-eight-two-mark-three-nine-two, and engage.”

The Bass turned, and just before the Insectoid ships reached firing range, it slipped the noose, and jumped to warp.

* * *

“Make a hole!”

A security detail was shouting, running at full pelt through the corridors, blocking for two Titan women, who were carrying an Avartle man and a human man, and running just as fast, no matter how weary they were.

They reached sickbay, where Choni Kretus was waiting. They’d called it up to him as the people on the Rusely had disembarked, and he already had his teams waiting.

“All right, take Embassy-Guard over here. Dr. Crew-Healer?”

“I am ready, Chief-Healer,” Crew-Healer signed. He then let out a low groan, as he saw the condition that the Avartle man was in. It was almost pointless to start; he was near death.

But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. Grabbing knives in two hands, forceps in another, and a retractor in his fourth, he set to work cutting the clothes off of the battered man on his table.

“All right,” Kretus said. “Security said he’d received a blast off of a plasma relay?”

“He…had to get a chip into place…or we would have died. He….”

Kretus nodded, as he carefully removed the human from the lattice gel, much of Hercule’s skin sloughing off as he did. “Mr. Sianena?”

For the first time, Glyta noticed the human nurse who was waiting by another tank. Xymu Sianena had been a combat medic in the Avalonian Guard, he’d served with distinction at Tau Ceti, and it was only the baptism by fire that he’d received there that kept him from showing his emotion as Hercule was placed atop the goop.

He didn’t pause, he quickly theaded a device into Hercule’s mouth, and running the scope, said simply, “Lungs are a total loss. Oxygen saturation is at 51%, damned lucky it’s that high. Espohagus…burning up high, but we can feed through it. I’m deploying a tube to the stomach, and am ready to begin direct blood oxygenation.”

“Do it,” Kretus said. Sianena hit three buttons, and then grabbed two large tubes, which he lay out above Hercule. He connected a network of smaller pipes and hoses to a mask, and shoved them into Hercule’s mouth, securing it in place with what looked like a large breathing apparatus. He added another device at Hercule’s abdomen, which attached on to it like a leech.

“Fill it up,” Sianena said, and Kretus poured more gel on top of Hercule, completely submerging him. They closed off the tube, tipped it upright, slid it into a biokit, and waited a long moment.

The device lit up, and a series of displays next to it lit up as well. Kretus looked over the displays, and nodded.

“Good work Xymu,” he said. After a moment, he turned to Glyta, who’d been watching in horrified concern.

“We’ve put him into a hydrotank,” Kretus said. “He’s not conscious, thank the Emperor, though he may regain consciousness in the next few hours.”

“What’s…is he….”

“It’s going to be tough,” Kretus said. “I know that they’ve done great work with burn victims, but his eyes have cooked, his eardrums are gone, and early readings suggest his cochlea are as well. The good news is that he has a translator and it’s online, so when he does wake up we’ll be able to communicate with him and he with us. It will take some tweaking, but it’s authorized in cases like this.”

“So he’ll survive?”

“Maybe,” Kretus said, running a hand through greying hair. “Honestly, I’m surprised he made it here, but if he can survive the next few hours without going into terminal shock…the brain appears to have normal sedated patterns for a human. The good news is that the plasma was hot, but it must not have burned for long. Burned like hell on the extremities, but…if the brain is okay, then between what we’ve done and some of the stuff Earth has done…I don’t know that he’ll return to service, but he can at least have a decent life. If, like I said, he survives the next few hours.”

Glyta slumped into a chair, and wiped her eyes. Suddenlty, she stood upright, and turned to a security officer. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Permission to come aboard, ma’am.”

“Granted,” the guard said, saluting. The guard paused, and asked, “Did Crewmate Olthympo? Or Crewmate Larasin…?”

“They were killed by the bugs,” Glyta said. “But we made them pay for it.”

“Fraking right,” Nasti said, though she looked tired. “Embassy-Guard didn’t make it. He’d…he’d lost too much blood.”

Glyta leaned back. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Me too,” Nasti said. “Me too.”