Civilizations fall. Worlds crumble. Star systems vanish, never to be seen again.

The Precursor's wrath continues unabated. Each day, he wipes out tens of billions of lives across a dozen planets, driving the Milky Way's inhabitants to despair. The soulless, unfeeling monster wipes away millennia of hatred between all the species. Even the Buzor unite with the Rodaks, the Mallali, and the Avaru to do battle against the Precursor, though their best efforts amount to nothing at all.

In the orbit of one nameless Mallali world, where a small fleet of resistance fighters bravely fight the Terran against all odds, the Admiral transmits a command to his Kraktol and Kessu crew. In total, they number nearly a hundred thousand, filling the Bloodbearer almost to its peak capacity.

"Go. Capture the best vessels intact from our enemies. Our ship needs more scrap for its repairs."

"Yes, Admiral!"

A storm of mini-frigates deploys from the Bloodbearer's shuttle bays, their bodies made for ramming into the sides of lesser vessels while taking little damage.

They crash into the flanks of dozens of Mallali and Rodak ships, deploying battle-hardened warriors to engage in infantry combat.

Kraktol warriors deploy with Kessu atop their shoulders, wading into battle with terrifying killing prowess. Even the weakest, crappiest, freshest Kraktol and Kessu stand galaxies above the heads of their opponents. No matter whether they face Trellut enemies, Rocharoks, Bulin, or Dakkit, they stomp their foes into lifeless corpses, trashing them with the same ease an adult might take down a group of toddlers.

As always, the leader of the expedition turns out to be the Bloodbearer's Second Officer, its Forward Ground Commander, Grundle.

The legendary Kraktol wades into battle without a shred of fear. He taunts his enemies relentlessly, mocking them and their ancestors for failing to compare to his glorious Admiral. His soldiers never lose morale, and in fact continue to become more fearsome as the battles continue, all thanks to the aura of their glorious leader.

Within just a few hours, they crush the fleet opposing them and seize control of their ships, leaving none alive to question their deeds.

Aboard the Bloodbearer, José Rodriguez stands before a holo-projection of the space situation, with his First Officer standing at his side. They patiently watch as his forces systematically dismantle their enemies, yet neither says a word until the final hostile perishes.

"They're unstoppable now." José murmurs. "You've taught them well, Soren."

His First Officer nods absentmindedly. "Yes. Considering the Bloodbearer will soon reach its maximum crew capacity, don't you think we should take a few of these ships intact? The Kessu and Kraktol could use more living space."

"Mmm. You're right, but that's the downside of Inverted Space drives." José answers. "Ships traveling inside Folded and Inverted Space lose contact with the rest of the galaxy. You also can't move two ships within the same Folded Space, not unless one of them is significantly smaller than the other. If we move some of our crew to another ship, they won't be a part of our voyage any longer. Building an Inverted Drive into one of these other ships would take years."

Soren shrugs. "Oh well."

After a few moments of silence, José glances at her.

"Something bothering you?"

She shrugs again. "The same as always."

"You don't like my mission," José guesses. "You think it's too bloody. Too violent. Unnecessary."

She nods slowly. "Destroying Enchillon, more than a hundred years ago... it was a shocking move. It stunned me at the time, but I came around to thinking it might have been necessary. But now, after all these other worlds... I just..."

She sighs deeply.

"José. Don't you think you've done enough? You've killed so many innocents. When will it end? You've avenged our fallen friends a million times over. I even have trouble remembering their faces sometimes. I can only remember a few Kessu and a few Kraktol. There are generations of Kessu here who never knew the fallen. They whisper about you all the time, often with shifty looks in their eyes."

The Admiral's expression remains neutral.

"They fear me. They think me a monster."

"Yes..." Soren whispers. She continues to avert her gaze. "I know you've suffered, but... isn't it time to move on? You have new friends now. You can... make a new beginning."

"I don't want a 'new beginning.'" José says. "I've had those now. Twice. I'm sick of 'new beginnings,' because for some goddamned reason, my friends always fucking DIE!"

The Admiral jumps out of his chair and roars at the ceiling.

"I HATE IT! I hate this HELPLESSNESS! THIS EMPTINESS! I always screw EVERYTHING up! I always fail EVERYONE! I'm fucking USELESS! AHHHH!"

The Admiral explodes with anger, momentarily startling Soren. She takes a few steps back, and gasps, which causes the Admiral to reorient himself back to reality. He pauses and shakes his head, blinking back the rage. After a few seconds, he quickly pushes his emotions back down.

The Terran shudders, then turns to look at his frightened First Officer. "Sorry, Soren. Sorry. I... I didn't mean..."

"It's okay," Soren says, shivering. "You... you always hide your anger and sadness. You don't have to, José. I'm here for you. You can talk to me."

The Admiral's gaze darkens. He looks away.

"Thank you, but it's better if I don't. Sometimes, when my anger reaches a certain point... I feel these strange sensations in the back of my mind, as if something wants to take over. I feel that if I give voice to my thoughts, I might do something... unforgivable."

Soren frowns. "Unforgivable? Like killing trillions of Sentients?"

José shakes his head.

"No. Something worse. I might lose control. I might hurt the ones I care about most. The few who still remain."

He vaguely gestures in her direction.

"I'm talking about you, Soren. I hold back because I'm afraid I'll lash out and hurt you. I no longer fully understand what evil I've become capable of unleashing."

The Admiral glances back at the holograms of the now-subdued enemy fleet.

"These creatures mean nothing to me. They're numbers on a screen. Dots of color. Blobs of meat. I hoped at first that killing them would ease my anger or cool the pain in my heart, but now I understand they mean nothing to me at all. I won't find happiness or redemption in killing them. I won't find anything at all."

Soren's arms hang loose at her sides.

"Then why do you continue, José? Why do you persist in these evil actions?"

The Terran snorts. "I do this because I don't know what else to do. If I do nothing, then I'll have nothing. Yet if I continue as I have, I'll have at least... a goal. A sense of... of..."

He trails off, finally at a loss for words.

A full minute passes. The Admiral and his First Officer stand awkwardly, with Soren glancing at him out of the corner of her eyes, while he stares off into space, lost and confused.

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Eventually, José shakes his head.

"Let's end this. Once Grundle and his forces finish their tasks, set a course for Dragua."

Soren flinches. "...Dragua. You're going to kill them too, then?"

"It's my last shot." José mumbles. "My last chance to feel something. If wiping out the villainous Kraktol who escaped on that day doesn't do anything, then nothing will."

José turns to look at Soren. Darkness lingers in his eyes.

"You may have forgotten the faces of our friends, Soren, but I haven't. I remember every Kessu's hair follicle and every Kraktol's scale. I remember all of their names. I even remember the contents of all our conversations. My cerebral augments ensure I will always keep a perfect record of my past stored for safekeeping, ready to torment me for all eternity. That's one reason I've kept up this campaign for so long. I'll never forget those I've lost."

The Admiral spins on his heel and storms away, leaving Soren all by herself. She stands in place, staring at the holograms with an empty gaze.

"He won't stop..." She whispers. "I can't ease his pain. I can't do anything at all."

Her shoulders slump.

"What kind of 'good friend' can't do a single thing to help? I'm... useless."

.......................................

Grundle and his expeditionary force finish their work. They rapidly strip apart the best metal from their captured vessels, then self destruct them, launching them into the planet's atmosphere. After carpet-bombing the world back to the stone age, all of his forces return to the Bloodbearer, awaiting their jump to Inverted Space.

"Great work, maggots!" Grundle says, clapping several of the youngest, freshest Kraktol on the back. "Graugh! You soft-scales aren't half bad! You're at least twice as strong as I was during my first invasion! Oh, you little tykes grow up so fast! Now, come with me, and let's complete your initiation!"

The Kraktol pound their chests and nod, following after Grundle. After he departs the Slipstream, his personal warship, Grundle pauses at the bottom of the exit ramp to look around. Eventually, he spots an elderly Kessu male nearby, someone leaning heavily on a staff.

"Graugh! Ruuki, there you are!" Grundle says, as he walks over to his old friend. His smile momentarily falters when he observed the aged body of the Kessu, but he forces it back while lightly stroking his former battle-buddy's fur. "We had a great haul this time! I brought some fun trinkets back for your little girl!"

The tiger-striped Kessu wobbles heavily on his feet. He leans against a crate while smiling at Grundle.

"Ahh... yes. Thank you, Grun-Grun. I'm sure Lulu will love it. She won't know what to say, but then again... she never does."

Grundle coughs awkwardly, but continues to maintain his smile.

"Yes! Graugh! I'm taking the boys here to visit the old scrapper and his missus! What say you join us?"

Ruuki nods slowly.

"Oh... oh, yes. I suppose that would be a bit of fun. I don't get around much these days, but I'd like to see my grandpa again."

"Good, good. Want me to carry you?" Grundle asks. "I could get you a hover-chair!"

Ruuki shakes his head.

"Maybe it's just my pride, but I won't stoop that low, yet. These bones still have a bit of strength left in them. Let's walk and talk. You're always so busy, we rarely get to chit-chat... not like the old days."

A hint of guilt crosses Grundle's face. His smile fades visibly, devolving into a barely visible crook at the edges of his mouth.

"Ah... yeah. Sorry. Graugh! I'm always training the young-bloods, but... I should set aside more time. I know most of the others our age aren't around anymore. You probably don't have anyone to talk to..."

"I have my children," Ruuki says, smiling faintly. "They might be adopted, or clones, or whatever... but they are my family, all the same. They treat their old 'pops' well. They always ask to hear stories from before the... the... that day."

"Oh, good. That's good..." Grundle mumbles.

He and Ruuki slowly proceed out of the shuttle bay, followed by Grundle's youngest Kraktol warrior initiates. These youngbloods keep pace at a distance, watching the largest member of their species bend down to the level of his tiny, aged friend.

"Graugh. Who is that Kessu?" One of the youngbloods asks. "He's so... old."

Another one sighs. "That's the now-retired Commander Ruuki. He's one of the last few survivors of the, err... the Day of Betrayal. Him and Big Boss used to fight together on the frontlines."

"Wow, that's awesome. But wait, doesn't that mean our boss is like, crazy old, too? Why's he in so much better shape compared to Ruuki?"

The other one shrugs. "I hear the Commander had all sorts of work done on his body. He'll live for thousands of years, just like the former Thülvik. Problem is, Ruuki was too old for those treatments to work well. He only extended his life by a century or so. Plus... I hear he didn't want to bother with the other life-extension treatments. Not sure why, but someone said he suffers from depression. He's a bit of a mess..."

"Damn. That's rough."

"Yeah, you said it. That's why you gotta listen when the boss tells you stuff. He knows what he's talking about. I heard he fought the previous Thülvik and beat her ass until she begged for mercy. He's a mean bastard sometimes, but he's also better than all of us. Him and Ruuki both deserve serious respect."

"Graugh! I'll keep that in mind."

These two Kraktol, as well as the rest, follow Grundle and Ruuki as they slowly make their way across the ship. Eventually, more than three hours later, they arrive at a room located in the heart of the Bloodbearer, smack in the middle.

The Stasis Preservation Chamber.

When the doors open up, most of the youngbloods crow in amazement.

"Graugh! Look at all these pods! What's in them?"

"Kraktol and Kessu, if you can believe it," Says the studious youngblood from before. "I heard the Admiral himself woke up in here two hundred years ago. There used to be tons of other Terrans here, but he gave them all a burial among the stars."

Grundle glances over his shoulder.

"You lot, be quiet! This is a solemn place, graugh! This is the Hall of Ancestors. We come here to pay our respects, not to yap our mouths!"

Grundle leads his youngbloods over to one of the many pods while Ruuki takes a seat off to the side, resting his tired knees.

After stopping before two of the stasis pods, Grundle falls silent. He rests one claw on the right pod, and the other on the left.

"Graugh. These two are Ruuki's grandparents. Baaru and Nyoor. They were the oldest living Kessu, aside from Science Officer Lorrie. They were my good friends."

Grundle kneels on the ground before the stasis pods. He sits on his knees, while the other Kraktol behind him take up identical positions. When Grundle bows his head, they mimic his movements, feeling a solemnness to his actions.

"Hello, old friends..." Grundle says, his words slow and ponderous. "It has been a while since I brought you some youngbloods."

He pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts.

"...If you could see them, I'm sure you'd be proud. They have worked hard and trained every day. They are the protectors of your great-great-grandkittens. I also brought Ruuki, today. He's still pretty spry, all things considered."

"I miss you guys. It's only been fifty years since we last talked... but it feels like fifty thousand. Time flies when you're having fun, or so the Admiral says. I'm certainly having a lot of fun kicking Mallali fur! But still... I'd have more fun if you were still here."

Grundle's voice catches, as a hint of emotion chokes his throat.

"Cough. I, err. I talked to the Admiral. He said there might still be hope for reversing your age. It might take time, though. So just be patient. If Umi succeeds in mapping the Kessu genome, we might get to talk pretty soon! Wouldn't that be great!"

The giant crocodile sighs heavily.

"It's too bad, though. Even if we bring you back... we'll never bring back your kittens, or your grandkittens. I'm sorry. It's... it's my fault, I know. If only I had just been there on that day... but I wasn't. I still blame myself."

The Kraktol behind Grundle listen silently, with varying looks of empathy on their faces. Never have they seen their brave and fearless commander so heartbroken and despondent.

Eventually, Grundle clears his throat.

"Erm. Graugh! But never mind all that. Please give your blessing to these youngbloods. I'm sure they will make you proud! They will protect your families with their lives. We aren't the same Kraktol who once attacked the Kessu, all those centuries ago. We are best friends, and we will fight and die together, no matter who stands against us."

Grundle rises to his feet, along with the other Kraktol. He bows before the stasis pods, as do his fresh youngbloods. Not long after, they file out of the Hall of Ancestors, leaving behind the stasis pods and all those painful memories.

After they leave, Grundle sends away his young warriors. He and Ruuki wander over to the cafeteria, where they sit down to munch on a light snack. Grundle materializes himself a hearty meal of nearly thirty pounds worth of meat, while Ruuki opts for a bowl of applesauce, something his tired old gums can easily chew.

"Ohhh... that was nice..." Ruuki says, his aged eyes blinking slowly. "It's been a while since I saw grandpa and grandma. Won't be long now..."

Grundle pauses his snacking to look at Ruuki.

"Long before... what?"

Ruuki shrugs. "Before I join them, of course."

"Don't say things like that." Grundle mutters. "You've got a good decade or two left in you. I'm sure the synthmind will map that pesky genome before you know it!"

The old cat slowly shakes his head.

"No. No... I very much doubt that, Grun-Grun. Even if it did... I'm not so sure I'd want to go on for much longer."

He pushes around some food on his plate absentmindedly.

"It's been hard for me to persevere all these years, Grun-Grun. I held out for Lulu's sake. I didn't want to make her sad. But now... I think it's about time for me to move on. My life has felt so... so hollow... without Lele. Without my kittens. I lost my first wife, and then my second. I lost my whole family. If I didn't still have Lulu, I'd have probably just..."

He trails off, leaving the implication hanging.

Grundle nods slowly.

"It has been hard on you, Ruuki. I wish I could do something to help."

"It's not your fault. It's not your responsibility," Ruuki states simply. "There's nobody who can help me. In the end, I long for sleep. I hope to see my family again in the next life. Maybe we can meet again, under the Koogali Tree..."

Grundle slides a fish into his mouth. He swallows it whole, then forces a smile.

"I'll stay with you until the end, bestest buddy."

The two men fall silent and continue eating their food.

Years later, when the Bloodbearer arrives at its final stop, Grundle will look at the direction of the Ancestor Hall and sigh.

He kept his promise to Ruuki and stayed with him until the very end.

Finally, the old fellow could finally go to rest beside the rest of his family... and remain with them in the afterlife.

"Old friend..." Grundle whispers. "I'll... miss you."