Gregory stared angrily at the tactical screens. What is wrong with these people? Didn't they understand all they need do was call and ask about the product, now that it had been demonstrated? He could block all their attacks and pick them off at his leisure. Did they want to die?

One of the military assistants lifted his eyes from his console "Sir! Ground reports guerrilla activity. Communications with the factory floor have ceased. I have reports that the main base has been destroyed!"

Gregory snapped his attention to the adjutant. "What? How could those farmers manage that? What the hell are those mercs doing down there? You get a hold of my field commanders and have them step on those hicks!"

"Yes sir!"

Behind Gregory, Samuel Mavens started, thinking Oh God, Sienna! She is still at that grape farm! He jerked his head to look towards the energy translation module mount at the control room's far end. I will have to do it myself.

He pushed at the engineer in front of him, and bolted towards the egg.

Gregory spotted the sudden movement, and shouted. "Stop him! He's after the Control matrix!"

One of the adjutants pulled a sidearm from his holster, and an ear-shattering crack exploded in the confined control room. Samuel lifted into the air and spun down to the deck.

"I didn't say kill the man, you moron! That was the developer you just shot!" Red faced, and ears ringing, Gregory forced his attention back to the tactical screens. The remaining battleships had started forward, and his sensors indicated UV lasers charging aboard the massive ships. "They are going to try lasing their way through my screens. Hah!"

Gregory's hands flashed across the controls, and giant disks of mirror-surfaced lead appeared before Baine's confounded ships. One, unable to change course, ran directly into a disk, turning into a cloud of silently shattering debris. Another managed to complete its power-up, and fired a rotating spread of beams that deflected away from a disk like a concert light show, striking several of the fleet's own small attack craft, destroying an unlucky few in the ricochet fire.

The other ships vectored off to regroup. Gregory's tell-tales warned of another flight of incoming ships dropping out of slip space. He refocused his attention onto the new arrivals. These weren't late arriving customers to be baited. His instruments quickly confirmed them to be units of the New Vatica Military. The small fleet of ships arrived surrounded by a cloudy halo several hundred miles in diameter, looking in Gregory's screens like a phosphorescent white mist.

As it approached, the mist resolved into something familiar. Gregory drew in his breath; the cloud was composed of thousands of Wavies. The shimmering blurs enclosing the new fleet detached, and formed into a huge curved plane that rushed towards the ALADDIN.

Gregory worked the controls of the ALADDIN. Soulless and efficient, the on board systems scanned star maps. A thousand light years away, a white dwarf star heaved as a trillion tons of its collapsed nuclear core vanished. Each bucket-full of the nuclear hell weighed more than the Australian continent and contributed more gravity to its small system of captured planets than Earth's moon. The already unstable and dim core shrunk, the gravitic pressure of the reduced core no longer able to overcome its own outbound pressure, it exploded outwards in a nova event.

On a globe circling the dwarf, a colony of small crablike beings waved their antennae curiously in its methane rich atmosphere, at the sudden drawing in, then dispersion of their "sun". It darkened then flashed, and minutes later, a wave of nuclear wind rolled over the planet, incinerating the atmosphere and vaporizing every mote on it before the dispersed gravity released it from orbit, to sling into space. Two billion years of evolving life was no more.

An eye-searing beam of bright yellow cosmic fury appeared, spearing towards the on coming sheet of Wavies. It struck with the tearing energy of a dying star, playing over the formation, and disappeared as if a magic wand had been waved over it. The formation moved forward relentlessly, and somewhere in the vast night between the galaxies, a bright bloom of light and cosmic radiation manifested. In a million years, an arising civilization would turn their primitive telescopes on that area of sky to wonder at its cause.

Diocullis watched his formation of Wavies advance, then turned to speak to Joshua.

"We have to move quickly. Gregory now knows he can't get at us . If we hesitate, he will have time to react. There's no telling what Blaine will do. I want to put an end to this right now." Michael looked at the slightly green glowing blur floating near the view port to his left.

"Mr. Green, form up your crusaders as we discussed."

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

"Yes, Commander,"emanated the blur.

The wide plane of Wavies' collapsed to form a great pipe, and Diocullis drove his ship into the near end of it, powering up the transmitter connected to the small switch box Arlyis had rigged to the console. Dio mashed down on the single maroon button fronting the box.

***

Gregory viewed the massive plane of the Wavies approach. Suddenly it reformed, taking on the shape of a large tube. It looked like a gun barrel of immense size, and pointed directly at the ALADDIN.

"Shit!" Gregory threw himself at a small yellow button at the top of his console. Yet another untried part of the ship's technology, it should in theory translate the entire ship and all it contained to a place of safety,beyond any possible pursuit, into a far reach of the Andromeda Galaxy. A destination only his new technology could obtain.

Ten inch thick data cables heated under the resistance of their load as processors and generators whined to life. A slight blurring passed over the ship. In the control room, a smoking crackle issued from the egg-shaped module set in the far wall, before the fallen body of Samuel Mavens, its inventor, then turned off.

***

Commander Baine noted the entrance of the New Vatican fleet with a frown. I was afraid of this. If they directly engage Gregory I will have to intervene. Baine brought the emerging ships to Mattson's attention.

Major Mattson, who was busy on the communicator, readying his marines, informed Baine he had decided to declare the direct approach a failure, and was going to try dropping his stealth troops onto the surface and into Gregory's factory. Mattson had a special group of two-man landers that were almost impervious to detection. Used for black ops, Baine knew them to be swift, quiet and practically invisible.

Mattson acknowledged the new fleet's advent, saying, "Leave them be for the moment. They'll provide a good diversion. Go ahead and see if Diocullis will answer a hail. See what he intends, if you can. Send out another wave of Dandelions to sun-side, and we will follow them down. Then focus all ship's UV emitters on the sun-side of Gregory's ship, or whatever that thing is. If we can't get at him, we can at least blind him for a bit. I'm going down there with my men. You have the bridge to yourself now. Give us all the cover you can. It's only one damn ship!"

With this, Mattson hustled off to join his attack group.

Baine felt a lightening of the pressure he suffered in the Major's presence, and relief that he would not be compelled to turn his fire on Diocullis. Earth owed the man. Hell, he owed the man. Baine passed orders to the Fusilier bay, and added a full volley from the linear mass projectors as well. Then he ordered a hail to the New Vatican fleet.

While the hail went through, Baine returned his attention to the viewers. There seemed to be some kind of blurring effect near the Vatican fleet. It didn't show up on the scanners, just faintly on the visuals. Was it some kind of radiation? Some new hellish thing of Gregory's? Then a massive discharge of energy filled hundreds of miles of space before the New Vatican fleet, whiting out every visual display on the bridge, and pinning every meter. The visuals slowly returned. The fleet and Gregory's ship were still there, but then amazingly,Gregory's ship started to wink in and out, and vanished.

Baine blinked. Although the hail had gone through and Dio was now on-line, Baine held a hand up to the Radio officer while he rechecked all the sector scanners. Nothing. Baine dropped his hand.

"This is Commander Baine aboard United Forces Ship, GETTYSBURG. Is that you, Michael?"

"It's me. How goes the war?" Michael replied.

"Just ended, I think. This mission didn't include Alcomer's participation, as far as I was informed. What are your intentions? Did you have anything to do with what just happened?"

Diocullis hesitated, then said, "Something Gregory caused, I think." And that is no more that the bald truth of things, thought Diocullis.

"We are here in support of our missionary on Avon, a Father Abrams. He has asked for our aid on behalf of his parishioners. It seems Gregory fomented some sort of civil dissent here, illegally incarcerating several estates of church supporters." Also true, reflected Diocullis.

Bane stared at the battle-viewers, now void of any hostile images except the fast clearing orbital mines. Otherwise, all that remained were his fleet, and the New Vatican ships. He thought of the stealth landing force now streaming down to the surface of Avon. There would still be dozens of sub-orbital and other small craft to deal with and Mattson would not want any interference until he had secured Gregory's research facility.

"We are completing our mission here, Dio. For safety and political reasons, I will have to ask you to stand down until we tidy up. Don't make this harder on me than it already is. Will you comply?"

Michael took a report from the hands of an adjutant, read it briefly, and smiled. "Yes, yes of course. Take all the time you like, but let us know if you need help. There is still ground activity on Avon, and my sources indicate the presence of several active missile launchers. We expect you to let us land aid and supplies to the beleaguered estates reasonably quickly, of course."

His sources? Baine mulled this over, but said, "I think that's acceptable. I should have a clearance for you in an hour or two. Stand by, and thanks for the offer and the reconnaissance."

***

Major Mattson lay semi-prone in the screaming confines of the dart-like lander. Built for stealth and speed, it offered a bone jarring descent, and a no-frills navigation package that kept him sweating and fighting to control the ship.

"Incoming S.T.A.,Major," shouted the commando behind him. "Counter measures deployed."

A packet of ignited phosphorous, foil strips and a tiny random radio emitter ejected from small vents in the dart's rear. Out of the four inch wide vision strip the dart allowed for, he could see one other flat black lander,and below it, coming fast, the tail flair of a surface-to-air missile. Mattson cursed. We must be right over the damned launchers, if they can track us. The companion dart disappeared in a ball of white fire. How many have I lost? he wondered. The ground came up fast, and grinding his teeth, the major hit the landing switch, and hung on.