> If I go crazy then will you still

> Call me Superman?

> If I'm alive and well, will you be

> There holding my hand?

> I'll keep you by my side with

> My superhuman might

> Kryptonite

3 Doors Down - “Kryptonite”

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“...and I’m telling you, Prime Minister, that once we lost the Xairac system, we lost containment,” Field Marshal Fujimoto growled. “As of this moment, all bets are off. I’ve issued orders to all military personnel that any unidentified vessel gets one chance to prove they’re friendly before they open fire.”

Leandra Singh just stared at her. “And what if they’re having communication problems?” she countered. “You’ll destroy them anyway?”

“You’re damn right I will,” Hélène fired back. “The same holds true for any Ronin spotted on the ground. If they can’t prove they’re uninfected...my orders are shoot to kill.”

“Do you realize what you’re saying?” the Prime Minister demanded. “You’ve just declared open season on all Ronin. You’re talking Genocide!”

“You don’t think I know that?” the Field Marshal snapped. “We had one chance to contain this, and now that chance is gone. Even with the extreme measures I’m taking...Leandra, I won’t lie to you. I don’t like the odds.” The military officer seemed to deflate as she admitted the truth. “If I were you...I’d dust off those evacuation procedures. You're likely to need them.”

The Prime Minister looked away, shuddering in horror as she contemplated the reality they were now facing. “...is there nothing you can do?” she whispered.

“...maybe,” she said at last. “There is a plan, but it’s a longshot. I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

Leandra Singh nodded, as she gathered her strength. “We’ve been in tough situations before, and found our way out. I’m not giving up on us. Not yet.”

“I wish I could share your optimism,” Hélène Fujimoto said quietly. “Because if it fails...I’m authorizing Operation Blackout.”

Her counterpart could only stare in shock, as she confirmed her worst fears. “...the complete sterilization of every Ronin world in the Tetrarchy.”

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Security was tight as the shuttle docked with Chiron. All personnel were thoroughly screened before being allowed on board, but once they made their way through the gauntlet General Nassat was there to greet them.

“...hey boss,” Tango grinned, as they shook hands. “As promised, I gathered up the rest of the old farts,” she chuckled, indicating the three men behind her.

Nassat nodded at each of them. “It is good to have you here,” he told them. “Time grows short if we are to have any chance of preventing a holocaust.”

Tango grimaced. “Damn it. Fujimoto’s getting ready to pull the trigger, isn’t she? Operation Blackout.”

“She is,” Nassat confirmed, “which is why your mission must be successful.”

“I mean, we’ll try,” Tango shrugged, “but we’re way off the reservation on this one.”

“It is the last chance we have,” the Saurotaur countered. “You must see it through.”

“All I can promise is we’ll give you our best,” she answered. “After that?” Tango shrugged once more, before changing gears. “I brought you something,” she said somewhat cryptically, “I figured you wouldn’t want to wait.”

“Wait for what?” Nassat asked in confusion.

Tango turned back to face the airlock and made a motion to come forward. Two young Saurotaurs stepped onto the deck dressed in Private’s uniforms, one bearing the Red Cross armband of a Healer, before snapping to attention.

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“Private’s Taichist and Chechla reporting for duty, Sir!” his son belted out, in perfect parade ground style.

Nassat could only stare open-mouthed at his children, before remembering where he was. “At ease,” he said at last, as he went to them, enfolding them both in his arms. They returned his hug stiffly at first, uncomfortable in this new environment, but the fierceness of their father’s emotions soon overwhelmed them.

“...how?” he whispered, as he released them, stepping back to gaze at them both. “How are you both here so soon?”

“They’re running them through a sped-up Basic these days,” Tango informed him. “Even faster than when you got drafted.”

He winced at the news, knowing all too well just how inadequate his own training had been, so many years before. “Are you both well?” he asked, finding his voice.

“We are, Father,” Chechla smiled. “It is good to see you again.”

“And you,” he smiled, his eyes misting as he took in her uniform. “You look so like your mother did when we first met,” he said softly.

Chechla blushed, while Tango chuckled. “And I was just saying how much Taichist reminded me of you, back on Uzaunx,” she smirked, “when you were a wet-behind-the-ears greenhorn.”

Now it was his son’s turn to blush, as Nassat fought to inject some much-needed composure into the situation. “I was never that young,” he snorted, drawing chuckles all around.

Unfortunately, the moment soon passed.

With a heavy sigh, he returned his focus to the group of humans. “We must get you prepped as quickly as possible,” he informed them. “I have convinced the Field Marshal to hold off on “Blackout” until after your mission, but she will not wait forever.”

Tango nodded. “Understood.” She turned to the others. “Let’s get briefed and geared up then,” she told them.

Taichist stepped forward and snapped to attention. “Sir, I request permission to join the team on its mission.”

Chechla looked at her brother in surprise...obviously, he hadn’t discussed this with her beforehand...but in a heartbeat, she decided and stepped forward as well. “Sir, I also request permission to join the team.”

Nassat stared at the pair in disbelief before a scowl came over his face. “Request denied,” he snapped.

The curt dismissal caught Taichist off guard. “But…Sir...” he began.

“I said I denied your request, Private,” he snarled. “You have no idea what they are about to drop into, but I do. You are not ready. You will never be ready...not for that.” Their shocked faces tore at him, but that only seemed to harden his resolve. “I already lost your Mother to war,” he told them, the pain still fresh in his voice, “and I won’t let it take you. I won’t.”

His daughter stepped forward, reaching out to touch his arm. “Father…” she began, only to be cut off.

“You are dismissed,” he said. “Report to the XO for berthing assignment.” They stared at him, unable to believe this personality shift, but that only angered him further. “I said dismissed.” he snarled.

The pair snapped to attention...Basic Training had ended only a few days earlier, and some lessons take time to unlearn. They marched out of the compartment without another word.

Tango sighed and looked at the rest of the team. “Give us a moment, will you?” Musashi nodded, ushering the others out as well, following in the children’s wake. Nassat had turned away, staring at a monitor, as Tango joined him.

“Did you put him up to it?” he asked, icicles dangling from every word.

“Of course not,” she sighed, “and if I’d known he was gonna pull a stunt like that, I would have talked him out of it.”

“Then why?” he demanded. “Why would he make such a foolhardy request?”

The human just rolled her eyes. “Come on, you can’t be that obtuse.”

His eyes flashed dangerously. “Tango, I am in no mood for your shenanigans. Speak plainly or get out.”

A dark look passed across her own face. “Fine,” she said through gritted teeth. “You want to know why he volunteered? Why they both did? It’s because of you.”

Nassat blinked in shock. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” she pressed. “Did you ever stop for a moment and consider how you appear in their eyes? You’re not just their father, you’re Nassat, the ‘Hero of the Tetrarchy’. Personally responsible for ending not one, but two wars. You once carried the Marshal’s baton yourself, as you may recall...and you’ve got more medals than you do prayer robes. You’re a hero in their eyes...and they want you to be proud of them.”

The Saurotaur winced and looked away. “I wanted none of that,” he said.

“Doesn’t matter,” Tango shrugged as she folded her arms and leaned against the bulkhead. “To them, you’re this larger than life character. They want to be worthy of you...of that image. And given how you earned it, they’re convinced the only way to do that…” She left the rest dangling.

“...dear Creator,” he whispered. It was several long moments before he could find the words. “I must go to them,” he said at last, “try to explain…”

“Don’t,” she told him. “You’ll just make it worse. After that little rant of yours, I can guarantee they’re more determined than ever to go out there and prove themselves to you.”

“But I must do something,” he wailed.

“Look, I’ll talk to them,” she said gently. “They’re more likely to listen to me than you now. Just don’t expect miracles.” She shrugged. “Cause they’re young, and convinced they’ll live forever...and you have some mighty big shoes to fill.”

Nassat blinked. “Tango...I do not wear shoes.”

She sighed and shook her head. “Thirty years, and still no sense of humor.”