The CASN Bole had seen better nights. In fact, the entire armada had seen better nights. My wide visioned periphery gave me a perfect view of the teeth filled jaws that clamped down on the entire system. Our demise had been inevitable from the night the feathernecks had struck. They’d made a game of making it slow, agonizingly slow.

Our fleet, fighting on its own ropes had been forced to watch as hundreds of Bala’ur ships bee-lined for our home and families. Too bogged down in fighting to break from the line and try to stop them. Those that could manage to break had caused them losses, but it hadn’t been enough. At first, the reports from the surface had been promising.

At least they weren’t saturating the surface with bombs right? At least the signals from the ground army, and our government had been ringing clear and true, they were putting up a fight. The painted picture had been clear: We needed to keep fighting for as long as we could, to set the enemy back long enough for Coalition ships to arrive, and our own task force out to Illis-03 to return. Once they detected all the FTL jammers and Bala’ur craft it’d be trivial to send messaging ships to get help from our allies. Right?

Yet, we’d seen no sign of either eventuality. Had the Illis-03 action force been destroyed too? Had our allies and the Coalition not become suspicious of our extended leave of absence from the communication network? Four nights was a long time for a border system to go silent, especially a key regional power like Atalor.

What rest anyone did get on the ship was when their shifts were over and they could be relieved to sleep. Then to only be up again to continue the constant fleet actions.

The readiness we’d maintained could only be given thanks in part to Atalor’s sibling Dwarf Planet, known to Cyonians as Enire’s Yard. So called because it was the name of the orbital ring built around it. The facility was as much a way station and logistics supply hub as it was a manufacturing station for new ships. A key infrastructure the ferals had shown no interest in destroying, and because of that the railguns and torpedo tubes embedded into it, and the surface of the planetoid, were still online. Our enemies had wisely chosen to not draw close. But... Every ship lost was irreplaceable. We were under siege on Atalor and up here in the void.

Many wireless communications planet-side had gone dark over the last two nights, and I was beginning to fear the worst. There had been no signals as to why, so all that could be imagined was they were intentional, or the destruction of ground command had finally come.

I looked down at my paw, it was drumming into the console of my seated station alongside the anxiety of my thoughts. I adjusted the captain’s cloak I still wore as a badge of my previous office. I could feel my eyes wanting to close from the exhaustion. Acting Commodore was a position I would have passed on to anyone else if I could.

With a sigh, I bore into the incoming data on my quick-tac readouts. “Recall Branch forces eight and nine. I want them on escort duty here.” I commanded simply. Since the destruction of the admiral’s ship... and the rear admiral- and his acting replacement after that- It got messy. Our senior command had been rife with cowards or those who were much too brave to be pragmatic. The remnants of the fleet had been under my field assigned command for the past night or so, more or less.

We’d been too shocked in the initial meet and greet with the feathernecks. So much effort spent trying to rally the line... maybe if we’d realized just how dire it was going to get we could have organized a breakout to seek help. If anyone had been able to foresee we’d be left out to dry by our predicted reinforcements... I slammed my paw into the chair.

Now was the time for action, not looking into the past. Maybe my mind insisted on retrospect because what I was doing next was suicidal. The nervous quiet the bridge had been in since I’d marched on an hour ago was thick in the air. Nobody had said anything except when it had been important. “Commander, are all preparations made?” I heard my voice ask.

“Yes Commodore. Ten Crown-Class battlecruisers. Twelve Rootline Cruisers. Forty-nine Ranger Frigates, a pawful of refits, and Four Pulp Frigates. All are assembled and ready for the task.” Reported back my first. Was that really all we could scrounge together? Seventy-six ships and some allied refits? I’d had to leave some behind to try and prolong the inevitable collapse of our in system resistance, but the fact that from so many of our in service ships remaining we could only spare this many combat ready ships? It wasn’t good. But... if this was all that the Ferals wouldn’t notice missing, then so be it.

As if to read my mind though, my second in command spoke up again. “And... One Isstali battleship. The Indomitable.” That... Was certainly the most Isstal-like ship name I’d heard.

“Thank you Commander.” I managed. “Comms, open up a channel to the fleet please.”

I heard an affirmative call from our communications officer, the fact the broadcast was now live noted by an at attention tail from the same officer. His striped whites and blacks were a familiar sight... It was sad to think that our tails would be less and less common in the galaxy if we failed.

“This is Acting Commodore Meris of the Cyoanian Assembly Star Navy.” I started by addressing the message with my own voice and name. This fleet and what came next would be my responsibility. It was important to remind myself, and the rest of the doubtlessly tired creatures under my command of that.

“Every single ship in the fleet has acted with courage that could only be asked of the most stern faced of Trikua. You’ve acted with the fierceness of Isstal. The calculated pragmatism of the The Founders. Some of you I have no doubts too, have acted with the stinginess a Dommis to our enemies.” I heard a couple dry chuckles and laughs at the last jest from nearby command crew members. Harking to a number of our allies in the Coalition, and how we’d embodied the spirits of all of them was as much to remind the fleet of our own status as one of the very first to touch the stars after our uplift. It would inspire them, I hoped.

My eyes laid on the devastated remains of tens of thousands of ships off in the distance that could be mistaken for an asteroid belt where the initial engagement had taken place. Swallowing my own fears, and my need to run I steeled myself. This was the only option if I was to prevent my people from becoming yet another on the list of those who’d lost their homeworlds to the hated enemy.

My voice returned to me. “Task Force Atalor has been assembled here and now to complete operation ‘Last Branch’. I need not impress upon anyone the importance that every single one of you hold your nerve. This is our last branch to hop to. If this branch fails us, the demise of Atalor, and of Cyonian society is inevitable. If your family still breaths on the surface, this is our last chance.” Brimstone and volcano-fire talk like this was rare, but these were extra-ordinary circumstances.

In one paw I needed to inspire, but in the other everyone needed to know the stakes. We couldn’t afford any captains losing their nerve and fleeing. We’d had too much of that already. As horrible as it was, the majority of our flee-happy captains had been singled out and destroyed over the last couple nights. They made easy targets when they left the line.

“Our objective is to charge the FTL jammer on 217.815, destroy it, and allow the CASN Barr to warp to Coalition territory for help. The Barr will be assisted by Silver Flotilla as an escort and vanguard. CASN Aspira and Lespaw will lead the vanguard to spearhead through the blockade while the rest of us go for the blocker to make their escape faster, and pull Predator attention.” It was risky, using a diversionary tactic like this. The Bala’ur were basically masters of it, but if we caught them off guard, still thinking we were just another weak willed prey species it might work.

I steeled my voice. “I cannot impress enough- The Barr must make FTL. If the blocker attack succeeds or not. The Barr must be protected even to the destruction of every ship command present. Atalor will not become a museum or history file collecting dust on Ancestra while we still breathe.” I sucked in a huge puff of air to stave off the instinctive need to pant. My tail was stiff with anxiety, and I could feel my heart throbbing with the moment. I couldn’t possibly imagine the weight I’d placed on every single soul listening. All of our backs were burdened with our world’s weight upon it.

I closed the transmission.

_________________________________________

Some time later,

My sobering speech had quieted the fleet communication lines that were usually more threaded with snippy conversations between ships on any number of topics. All that came over the general network now was affirmations that ships were at full combat readiness for the task at paw. My ship, The Bole, was at the front of the Last Branch. The fleet was ready. Weapons primed, crews set in place, and I had no doubts the majority of our captains swearing oaths on the Obelisk that they wouldn’t let their instincts get the better of them. At least- I hoped for the last part.

The main battle around Atalor and Enire’s Yard had continued, and we’d successfully slipped ourselves away on a wide arc slinging past some of the debris of our own fleet that’d drifted in an orbiting line as it was caught in the gravity well of the sun. Predictions from our navigation said they’d likely be incinerated by the star in time. I could see the drifting debris out the front viewer, the remains of thousands of ships lost in that savage first strike.

“I-i-its... Horrible!” Exclaimed my first. His voice trembling as he caught sight of motes and specs of white stripes here and there in the wreckage. The Ferals were there too of course, you could see the feathery bastards easily on the black backing of endless space once our running lights flicked over them.

“Attention on sensors Commander. I want to know when they’ve spotted us.” It was inevitable they would after all. He needed to get his mind off the killing for now.

Thankfully, the breath holding wait only took another couple minutes once we’d cleared the debris. Already I could see sensors tabbing and forwarding information to other stations, and my own tactical display by my chair was lighting up. The symbol for a FTL jammer, and its presumed range popped up in red. Already I could hear the compressed voices of crew members talking through internal ship communications to inform bridge stations of their statuses, the hum of the consoles and internal systems in the floor, wall, and ceiling above me. It was all a cacophony of noise I’d grown used to over my career. It steadied my nerves every time, to at least hear the voices of my fellows with me. I consciously bore the look of the stern captain, one of my eyes glaring at the enemy occupied space as if fearless. An act I’d perfected over long years.

“Fire coordination with the Valok and Koranak-” Two Dommis lend-ships we’d not renamed. “should be at any time they can be aimed at the blocker. If it goes down the Barr can make her run all the sooner, and with escort in tow.” I snapped my paws along the buttons on my chair console, giving out silent tasking to various ship crews. With some sobering foresight I shuffled the engine room security detail to instead hold the choke pointed hallway just outside the bridge, alongside the other two security teams already assigned there. If we got boarded, the last thing the fleet needed was for the voice of its Commodore to go silent. The hit to moral would shatter us to space dust at this phase. I needed to live as long as possible, even if it seemed selfish.

“One minute to engagement range. We have incoming Bala’ur strike craft, and accompanying battlecruisers.” Reported tactical. “Other enemy contingents are scrambling on intercept courses to block our way Commodore. I’m counting a hundred at least. They must’ve known we were coming.” I could see squadrons of dozens of fighters being deployed from our carrier banks from some of the battlecruisers who had still functioning hangers. I noted that the Dommis’s doctrinal reliance on them was on full display now, with their two ships able to dump out thrice as many as our ships, at least. They were ready to put up a stream of low powered hate on any Ferals foolish enough to try and dogfight between our bigger ships.

I flicked my ear crisply. My tail signalling we move forward despite the danger. “Our opening salvo will decide the rest of the engagement, I want all of us firing on-” And before I’d known it one ship had fired its coiled mass driver prematurely, somewhere off to the fleet’s left flank. We- we weren’t even in engagement range! “Who ordered that?! I want an open channel to the fleet now!” And before I knew it I saw two or three more premature shots from various destroyers in the fleet. I cursed my luck. They were so wound up they were just doing what one hasty ship had done first.

When I was signalled as on fleet comms I spoke immediately. “Hold fire! Contact in twenty seconds! Restrain yourselves! Barr, I want you and our Silver designated ships breaking off now. Stay behind the pack and gun it once we’re pushing for the FTL-” I was speaking automatically now, my own orders streaming out in line after line. I couldn’t trust my comms to keep them in line, fleet cohesion was so dangerously low only the voice of the highest superior officer could hold their nerve at this point!

I flicked my tail at my second. “Commander, take the ship. I’ll be coordinating the fleet.” I barked, standing from the command chair and instead opting to stand by the tactical table-map in the back of the command compartment. Leaning over it.

My eyes watched live feeds on the sides of the black marred display of surrounding space. Charged cannons were firing, Bala’ur ships bled and limped from our unusually bitter assault as it broke open. They weren’t acclimated to bold attacking actions like this, let alone the formulation of a sallying move. Cyonian ships were made with two principles in mind, firing speed and armour. At one time we’d produced fast and nimble ships that resembled our arboreal roots, but our time as a border state to their territory had changed that. We’d been forced to adopt a defensive posture unlike our earlier days.

The majority of the fleet was entering engagement range now, and on my mapped up overlay I could see that our friends in the Isstali battleship had gone right into the middle of the spearhead. Their oscillating shielding systems and heavy guns were imposing to any enemy, and it was making the smaller ships of the Bala’ur compliment pull to move out of its trail of fury. The rest of the vanguard streamed into the gap they made, even as their ship was relentlessly pounded. Not even a Isstali ship could handle that much hate for long.

I could see the flashes on the edges of my vision streaming in from the window far to the front of the room. My brow and down tilted head hiding the majority of the happenings. I could hear the shouts, the calls of crew members trying to keep cohesion under the brutal assault. From what I was reading we were... Dreadfully under specs to ever overcome these hunters. They badgered us, tried to split our fleet apart to pick at it. The initial shock hadn’t done much elsewhere on the line.

I slammed by fist down, using my free paw to press my index claw to one particular red dot in the second line of the assault. My own voice streaming over the comms. “All ships within range of that ship, fire! It’s their command craft!” I had nothing to back it up beyond my intuition, I’d seen ships with those sorts of flight patterns before. The smug hunt-captain with an ego big enough he or she wanted to be close to swoop in for final blows, but away enough from the action to coordinate their subordinates. You didn’t need to talk to the feathernecks to pick up on their commander archetypes.

I felt the ship tremble and shake, an atmosphere alarm sounding as bulkheads shuddered closed in some distant aft section. “We’ve lost the starboard manoeuvring engines one and three!” I heard the call. Tch..

My attention went to the live footage from a camera affixed near the bow of the ship, turning it to watch the command ship I’d picked out. All of a sudden the sneaky backliner was being barraged by mass driver bolts the world over from too many directions for his ship to dodge. I saw it try to rotate itself out of the way of one bolt, only for another coilgun shot to blast through its left wing like a slashing claw, sending it flailing, uncoordinated, and adrift even as the missile pods that’d decorated the wing were booming off and taking the rest of it. A commander puttering around in a strikecraft, albeit a well armoured one? Foolishness, I’d expect nothing less from the Bala’ur.

You could see the pause in action as the ferals tried to understand what had just happened. Their leader had just be identified and targeted out of the equation. With a silent paw I ordered the fleet for a thrusting move forward, like a wall of magma rushing down a volcanic slope. “If we have to physically push them out of the way then do it, the blocker goes down now!” While they were still reeling.

I could see the Barr and its force rushing past us on a leftward angle, even as our left flank curled to enshroud the FTL jammer in an L shaped two sided attack. The latter move would doom us once the reinforcements that were only so far away arrived, but for now that mattered little. I punched in a few extra orders. “This is it, all ships-”

I could see the swing of our skirmish, we were overwhelming the shocked enemy with ferociousness alone. Dozens of red ship shaped lights blipped from the map console into dust. But we were trading close to as much. “-We’ve used our time. We only have minutes before reinforcements arrive. Take the last branch. Destroy that jammer!” I pulled up the camera feed again, glaring at the thickly armoured and shielded thing. Bala’ur FTL blockers of this make were much like an oversized orb, manned with a couple close range ballistics and towed into system by their brutish ships. They were essentially ship sized space stations, but all the extra space from not having engines was dedicated to survivability.

My eyes flicked to our spearhead- Agh.. The Isstali battleship was taking too much fire. It was the biggest, strongest beast on the field, and the Bala’ur were salivating for the challenge. I gave a guttural growl. “I want strike-branches screening the Isstali’s now! They’re-” But even as I was ushering the order mid-way through I watched as a flaming, beleaguered Bala’ur cruiser turned his prow cannon and shot true, right into the depths of the damage behemoth ship and striking something critical. Almost at once the entire thing’s power systems went offline before my eyes. A signal came through over the comms, I could hear the gravelly voice unmistakably belonging to their kind. “That won’t be necessary Commodore, please. Send me and my crew’s regards to the jammer.” It sounded like there was shouting in the background of his transmission. Fires as well, judging by the crackling noise filtering through.

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Obelisk... My eyes shot up to the bridge in front of me. We didn’t have much time if they were out of the fight.

“Commander!” I was walking briskly up to the command chair again. Flaring out the back of my cloak with an arm to get a breeze of air under my fur to try and throw off the doubts their defeat had wormed into my mind. “I have command.” I said simply.

“You have command Commodore.” He responded. Stepping to the side to assist with tactical. Commander Forthright had always been a capable second to me, but his tactical mind was entirely by the book. I could see that our advance was blunted by well positioned enemy battlecruisers. The only clear line was... between them.

“I want power to helm.” Already my mind was running through the situation, our shields were down, our right engines were fried so manoeuvrability was down. It looked like our final strike wasn’t enough, the ferals were rallying before us with the determination of a predator with its jaws around our neck. I could see interceptor breakaways chasing the Barr out in the distance, they needed this to get away. It was make or break time. Our momentum would wane unless we took it.

“I want emergency power to helm.” I clarified once I’d made my decision. A wild eyed look of fear came from the Cyonian manning the control chair. My right eye spotting a beleaguered key ship to our immediate right taking two railgun shots alongside a small swarm of self-propelled munitions. I could see its own power systems flicking on and off as internal explosions rumbled inside it.

“B-but Ma’am!” Came the call. “The overrides would-”

“I’m aware.” I chimed back. “Emergency power, helm. Put the engines to emergency flank and point us at the predator spawned FTL jammer. Tactical, I want whatever is left of our flying payloads and coil shots held for the blocker. Fire when I can make the call.”

I saw two tail signals of affirmative, and that’s all I needed. I could hear the ships energy systems pushed well beyond their intended running parameters. A red streak of light coming from the engineering console to my left peripheral warning the on duty crew member we were endangering the power systems.

The momentary pause of a couple seconds while we spooled up was washed with flaming orange light as our sister ship in the formation took one final pummelling too many, much like the last. The entire thing going up in flames and purging ship parts and debris in all directions. “We’ve lost the Valok! The other Dommis cruiser is breaking off, they’ve lost shields!” I heard from somewhere on the bridge as I blinked the bright, blinding light from my eyes. Shit. Without their strike craft escorts- we had to do it now.

But the same ship formation that’d just taken out our sister ship was moving into the way, intent on biting down on our throat as well. I could see the way they moved, they were going to bracket us from our port and ventral while a cruiser crossed our bow to cause us to stop. It’d been how they’d killed the Valok after all. “Belay last! Nose down! Now! Forty degrees right!” Rapid fire, we had to react now or we’d die, they’d nearly had us.

I heard a quick confirmation back as the ship suddenly dipped its bow from our thrusters kicking on, the Bala’ur ship trying to impede our path trying and failing to do the same, and ending up with a face-full of our starboard ballistic batteries. Lines of ammunition thumping into them from rapid fire secondaries alongside that. “Give them a bloody nose!” I heard someone in the back of the room holler out, only to be swiftly reprimanded by an officer.

“The Tynera is to ride alongside and cover us.” Came the order, it was a light cruiser assigned as a screen, but she’d be able to stave off the hits barraging our right side. I heard affirmative, and set my sights back on the blocker.

“I want us moving now! Helm get me that emergency flank! Guns hold!” I barked, repeating my earlier orders before the Bala’ur’s kill stroke attempt. I was blinking out the afterimages of the flashing oranges and glaring at the wash of combat around us as the Tynera was hit in a vital section far earlier than I’d expected. The whole thing cracked in half as the reactor flashed. Their corpse even still shielded us long enough to spool up, Obelisk.. I hoped it was worth it.

I couldn’t even see what had become of our blockade runners. “Emergency Flank!” Came the cry from helm, and with that the ship jumped suddenly, fuel and the stored power jolted into the igniters. The sudden change in momentum threw anything not strapped or braced on the bridge to the back of the cabin, inertial dampeners unable to keep up.

My eyes watched with spots in them as the blocker came closer, I could see on the readout the numerals denoting its distance shrinking from five digits to four, and then to three. Ferals tried to pummel us from all sides as we jetted past them at a speed that they must have not expected. Shredding scrap, the sounds of something buckling, the alerts popping up on engineering’s console. I could hear the shouts dimly of someone marking and denoting all the damage we were taking, but my focus was precision. The fruit that was our target was hanging there, waiting for us to pluck it-

“Tactical! All munitions!” Came my call. And with it, they fired. Missiles, ballistics, all of it. The coilguns hollowly reporting as their twisted bars sent the superspeeded payload off. Followed quickly behind by missiles and their shielded counterparts, the torpedoes. All of it sailed, and the feathernecks hadn’t been ready for it. Their countermeasures failing to shoot down more than half a score.

“Load those damn tubes and give me more!” I shouted. Of course, our autoloaders and missile deck crews were likely working overtime to do just that, but it couldn’t be helped. Another payload came in quick succession even as I could spy on the tactical display we were surrounded and being pounded like no tomorrow. Thank the Obelisk though, our second load was firing the second the tubes were clear. The first had severely damaged the infernal jammer, but it was still defiantly there. Well. Up until the second volley streamed in.

I imagined their maws slack with astonishment- Fwboom! As each separate payload buckled and cracked their shielding, then the armour plates, and finally into the grinds and gears that kept the damn thing working. It went up in flame and destruction. I let some of my hatred for the damned feathernecks take joy in it, briefly.

And then... I had to deal with the aftermath of what I’d done. That had been... a lot of our alpha potential all extinguished in one desperate gamble.

As if that wasn’t enough I could hear the crackling over the fleet comms come to life as someone decided to broadcast on the line designated for every bridge. “My ship is infested by boarding parties of Predators. I’ve ordered the overloading of the ship’s reactor. The tree falls, but its roots neve-kkssskt-” As the signal was lost. Our ship kept on sailing, turning at a limping rate to try and avoid the debris of the blocker, alas- the momentum from our bold charge threw us into it. The damage of uncountable dings, close passes, and hollow thudding booms as the scrap of our target tore at our outer hull. I saw rends forming, we were venting atmosphere. I doubted the ship wouldn’t fall apart even if we tried to kick the engines on again.

“I need a report.” My voice demanded sternly, even though now the moment was passed and I could feel the fear of just where we were consuming me.

Engineering’s liaison spoke up “We’re hemorrhaging. The reactor was pushed beyond its apex limit, we’re going to lose it any second. It’ll take... An hour before we can get main power, at least. Repair crews cannot keep up with life support damage. No missiles, 24% of ballistics points remaining. They’ve taken our most of our point defence- Decks four and five are depressurized entirely-”

“That’ll do.” I stood up, and headed for the fleet map again. A shaky paw opening up the tactical map. My black eyes traced over it with as much keen effort as I could muster, I could see the fleet was beginning to crumple. The reinforcements from the ferals other jamming sectors had arrived a short time ago by my surmising, and- we were being picked apart from behind. My heart was pounding in my chest, trying to keep it under control this whole time had taken sheer force of will. I’d never been an admiral, making a call like this- dooming so many of my kind and our allies on the hope that we’d- I shook my head. Looking up toward the last known position for the Silver contingent. Its escorts were still fighting, but I could see the Barr and two escort ships moving to escape, a Crown class and a Ranger class on either side of it. Another ship playing at hero slamming itself in the way of an incoming railgun shot intended to knock out the ailing Barr’s engines. In a moment, I saw it flash out of our tactical display range, followed closely by the two flashes as its surviving two escorts not engaged fled with it.

A shocked breath leaped from my chest, a paw pressed to my pounding heart. I- by the Obelisk. We’d- it’d- I slammed the switch to broadcast my voice fleetwide. “They made it!” I roared loudly across the cabin. Dozens of eyes on me as they paused in their scramble for damage control. “The Barr made it! Operation Last Branch is a success!” I could hear some level of happy chatter at the news, but it was... Dulled. The price we’d paid was enormous.

It was like... My mind was awash with chemicals I couldn’t even describe. So much alleviated stress. We’d done it. We- we did it. I stumbled toward Commander Forthright. “Commander- Commander-” I breathed out holding out a paw toward him, he looked back at me with concern.

“Commodore, hold on.” He was stepping toward me like he was going to hug me but... I felt myself stumble over my own weak legs. Exhaustion and the emotion of the moment just... I couldn’t bring myself to- why was the ground so close to my... thud.

_________________________________________

My head hurt. “Guh augh swamp-leeches...” A paw that I recognized as my own was pressing up to my head, cradling it where I felt some sort of bandage. I could hear chatter over the intercom above me. Frantic voices nearby, distant gunshots. Wait- gunshots!

My eyes snapped open. How long had I been out? The gravity was still on, that was something. The bridge lights were off, nothing but the emergency dims by the floor were on, which wasn’t too much of an issue for our adaptive eyes but- I could hear one voice clear over the din. I recognized it as our tactical officer. “-nowhere to run to! Escape pods will just get picked off!” I’d only just picked up the end of it.

I gasped. There were four or five others laid with me. Some bloody but alive. Some dead. I turned over onto my stomach and felt a sick heave coming on. I shoved it down before it became an involuntary reaction, this was no time to burn my throat.

With rapid glances around I realized what must have happened, and why I could hear fighting. My actions had doomed the ship to drifting without power, and the fleet had been being overwhelmed last I saw. The ferals had wanted lunch, and the ship was helpless thanks to my gamble.

I stood on my paws, shaking off the strained headache that threatened my right side where I’d fallen. My cloak was still on, and so- I reached for the service pistol in its built in holster. Checking it was flicked and ready for action as I marched out of the alcove near the tactical map where I’d been laid down. “What’s going on?” I asked with a shaky breath. One of my eyes trained on the still open blast doors from the bridge to the hallway.

“C-commodore!” He yipped back. “You’re alright! W-we’ve been boarded.” He gave me an apologetic look. The kind that said our security teams weren’t up to the task to fight Bala’ur in close quarters. I’d known that of course... But you could always hope. We were like fragile twigs compared to them in person.

“I understand.” I looked around. “Where’s ahh... the commander?” I heard my voice ask.

“He went to repel the boarding minutes ago with a security detail.” Came the reply. Agh... That was typical. By the book right up until the minute it’s time for last minute heroics. He was a prisoner or dead by now then.

With as much authority I could muster from my tired body and spent mind I spoke “We’ll fight to the escape pods.” From the look of the others remaining of my bridge staff I could see that wasn’t an option anymore.

“Some of them launched when abandon ship was called Ma’am. They were intercepted and boarded too. What’s left of fleet couldn’t fight to them in time. It won’t do us any good. The pods are no good.” Sometimes I wished we had just enough traits of the predators to be as ruthless as them, not that I’d ever admit it out loud. I locked my paw on my weapon, we were left with one option.

“We fight then. How many of us are left?” I asked.

“Casualty reports and pod launches accounted for, we have four p-” I decided to cut them off, we didn’t have time.

“How many?” Came my terse tone.

“A-a... Five security teams are still on comms, the bridge crew here, crew quarters, and the dorsal gunnery deck are our last strongpoints.” That... Alright, he didn’t sound so sure about it. There was something to work with there, but we didn’t have a lot of time. I walked to the panel adjacent to the hallway increasing with sounds of scrabbling paws and gunshots.

Firstly though, I pointed to- well- I supposed they were my new second in command now. “Get me a report on the fleet.” Before I turned back to the panel, a claw fumbled a moment with the speaking box.

I could hear my own voice echo out across the hall, and the speakers above as I gave a general message over the intercom. “This is Commodore Meris.” If they’d thought I was dead or down they’d hear my voice, hopefully heartening them to fight all the harder. “These intemperate savages have defiled Atalor, to any who can hear this, fight. Do not go mewling into a den to be picked off. Help is on the way.”

I jammed off the general channel. Had that last part been a bit of an embellishment of the facts? Perhaps. I didn’t even know if the fleet was still coherent and fighting, but- they needed something to hold onto. It was better we all fought to the bitter end than be taken prisoner after all.

I flicked by brown eye back to my second, their own paw to their chin as they looked over one of the backup monitors at the back of the tactical table. That look didn’t fill me with confidence, and... it was getting harder to hear as more gunfire was booming closer and closer. There were howls, yowls, and cries of pain. The security crews must have been fighting a staggered retreat...

“No good Commodore. What sensors we do have are showing a full rout of what managed to make it out. We’re on our own.”

I felt lead in my gut. It was exactly what I’d expected to happen when I’d made this plan, but- maybe I’d clung to hope too that we could at least make it back. There wasn’t much else to do then... Except have that final stand.

“Order the delaying crews back here captain. We’ll fight a defence, and once we’ve repelled the Bala’ur assault we’ll breakout toward to the crew quarters.” Came my orders. Even now that feeling, that raw anchored ton in my stomach wasn’t letting up. But... Maybe if we fought that plan could be true.

_____________

Sealing the blast doors would only encourage the Bala’ur to use a blasting charge that would discombobulate everyone in the command compartment when it went off, so I opted instead to order the barricading of the bridge hall with as much debris as possible to form a physical firing line we could shoot over.

Unfortunately, when they’d actually managed to make it to us... it did little.

“Gah!” I flew back as two of the monsters charged the barrier, they’d forced our heads down with a grenade thrown too short. Something that wasn’t supposed to make a cracking noise did so when I hit the deck. The Bala’ur bruisers had bullied their way through the chest high wall like it was tinfoil paper, alongside their shorter compatriots hopping it to slam their legs down into my crew behind it. Even now I could see through my unfocused eyes that same feral who’d bowled me down had clamped his jaws around the helmsmen. The screaming ending with a crunch of neck bone. After that? The rest of my crew was broken, running for... dark corners and firing off shots in unaimed arcs while screaming in terror. I could see one trying to stuff themselves into the service locker under the viewer. Well. This was it, I supposed. When they had you like this, you kind of just... lost yourself to the panic. It was natural. Nobody wanted to be killed like this.

My legs tried to stand me up, but I found that my left leg had been the victim of that odd noise I’d heard when I fell. The appendage was no good for holding weight, and my exhaustion helped none at all. These Bala’ur... They waltzed onto my bridge, and I felt my heart thumping harder than it ever had before. My nerves were broken, and I could feel my ears pull back. The sheer terror-

And yet, I saw how nonchalant this whole operation was for them. Now that they weren’t being shot at it was like a walk through a park. Taking in the sights and smells. One of them casually picked up one of the injured crew near the back who’d been laid to rest and- Obelisk I couldn’t concentrate on it. I needed to distract them away from my crew. “Your kind are damned to the abyss beyond the Obelisk’s guidance! You’ll die, and realize all that awaits your cruel existence after death is oblivion! Hateful, empty oblivion!” I heard the brave voice from my own throat. I was putting on the act again, wasn’t I?

No less than five pairs of hateful eyes turned to me when they heard the words with such conviction. The closest lunged at me, but I grabbed at a metal shard of debris from the shattered barricade and slammed it into the featherneck’s head. The disc-shaped vent cover clanging loudly as it snapped his open mouth shut on its tongue, causing my nose to pick up the tang of blood as it howled and stepped back clutching its face. “I’ll kill every last one of you!” Came the commanding boom of a voice, my voice, yet still insignificant next to them...

That’s when I felt... almost frozen. There was a pair of yellow eyes boring into me from the bridge entryway. My instincts told me to run, but I knew I couldn’t... Rapid breathing, a flick of the eye and-

I could see more clearly now, it was one of them, they were wearing ceremonial armour of some sort. I’d never seen anything like the silver lined breastplate that took the majority of it all. This feral fashioned itself like a King! A circlet of black iron fastened across their brow and the top of their head. Dozens of scars and battle marks. Their left forepaw was missing a middle digit. It came to me, standing over me with barred teeth and a sick look on its face. It spoke.

“You, you’re the captain are you not?” Came the throaty, growling tones of my enemy. My translator denoted a feminine pitch to their speech, not that I could have known that from it’s repugnant true speech. I just sneered up at them, unable to formulate an ample response. “You were the one to destroy one of my eyes.” It insisted. “You, you lead the charge.”

One of her eyes? “T-th-the jammer?” I stammered out without thinking.

“Yes-” A talon laden, feathery paw reached down toward me, and I remembered myself. Trying to grab at the pistol in my own paw and holding it up right to them. “N-no! Die predator!” My act of brave defiance accented by a single loud pop from the firearm, and then: Click- click- click- of my gun. I’d forgotten I’d spent it all but the one bullet. It’d punctured right through the not very functional body armour, penetrating to their chest, but- this Bala’ur seemed entirely unbothered. No more than a passing annoyed grimace at having been impaled by a bullet. I could SEE the red of their blood through the hole, but- had it just not gone deep enough!?

The paw snatched around my neck, choking and hoisting me up to their face. “Hmmh... I will afford you this one thing for your mutiny against the natural order of prey and predator. The hunter recognizes the prey who fights stronger than the rest. You’re ruthless... Sending so many of your kind to die to achieve your goals should be rewarded.”

I felt sick. Its fangs were inches from my face, and its words were like a sour pafruit in my mouth. What was it on about? I’d- I wasn’t a predator! I wasn’t ruthless. We’d been forced to do this! “Cc-cc-” I could barely breath past the choke hold. My words unable to get out.

She loosened up ever so much, giving me precious air to pull in. “FFffffffff-” Came the deep suck of air as I hacked, coughed and heaved. “N-not like you.” I managed out, trying and failing to break her grip.

This creature laughed at me, her rancid features broken into a broad, terrifying grin. “Oh? Hahaha! Did you think I meant you were a predator? No, no no- you’re prey like the rest.” She glanced down and behind me for... something, but when it wasn’t evident immediately she used a free grasper to move my cloak aside. Then came a little spark in her eye. “Hmh. Not a silvertail are you? Pity. I did promise you a reward though, I think?” A pity? What? What did silvertails have to do with anything? Before I could ask though, that grip began to crush: “K-klg...”

She seemed disappointed, but amused all the same as she taunted me. “Your reward is in front of you. You see the face of Oracle. I am the fist of the Bala’ur of Az’ta that will take your planet, and put your kind where they belong. I have seen it.” She was their leader!? The bringer of the this damned fleet? I-I- Her paw had tightened even further like a vine many times too strong, I could feel darkness in the edges of my vision and- my claws were scrabbling against her weakly- I could hear a distant voice, hers? “Smell the fear on it, and yet it shot me. Haha. These ringtails are delicious and a show.”

I couldn’t breath, my paws fell from their attempts to free my throat. One thought crossed my mind despite the horror, we’d gotten the Barr out. Help would come from our sacrifice. I’d... Lived long enough to save my home.

For the second time that night as the comforting thought crossed it: My conscious mind failed, and I dropped into senseless darkness.