Vree stood on the bridge of the Human ship, China, and tried to figure out what in the Suns he was doing.

In only a short Galactic year, he had become the confidant and friend to a great many humans, among them, their young Emperor, and his family.

Human-Amir thought it was the height of hilarity and started to snicker whenever Vree tried to ask him about it. Human-Luka, who scolded him roundly for trying to use his title, also thought it was funny, and insisted that emperor or no, he intended to keep his friends nearby.

Humans.

They would pack-bond with absolutely anything. Aliens, enemies, even cleaning robots with no personality at all, but who had buttons that seemed to be in the shape of a smile.

And once they had bonded with something, they would stay bonded with it until death or betrayal. Sometimes not even then.

And now Vree, who somehow ended up in the Emperor’s pack, was watching as the entire Hoem Fleet, thousands of ships powerful beyond reckoning, appeared out of hyperspace. An empire of their own, and capable of taking on the great, sprawling, human galaxy.

“Looks like they took the bait,” Human-Amir said quietly as they stood to Human-Luka’s left. “Here they come.”

“Now for the fun part,” Human-Luka agreed, and stood. “Give me ship-wide comm-address please.”

He was surprisingly calm, and quiet in this moment. Vree almost felt as if he was waiting for something. As always, the young human refused the more extravagant Imperial fashions in favor of a dark sleeveless vest over a long red tunic. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing a new tattoo of an old-Earth aircraft, backed by an Imperial Carrier. Vree had seen it before, and suspected it had something to do with Human-Luka’s status as Red Baron.

Whatever that was. Humans were very strange sometimes, and a great long history of wildly conflicting traditions.

“The comm is yours, Imperial Majesty,” one of the techs reported politely. “Go ahead.”

“All hands, brace for maneuvers,” Human-Luka announced over the comms as he plunged the connector into his cerebral port. “Open a line to Galactic broadcast. I want all our allies to see this.

Vree had not known Human-Luka had a cerebral port. He was not sure what to make of it.

Human-Amir smirked in the way that really wasn’t all that nice, and promised a great deal of trouble in the immediate future.

Human-Luka smiled in a way that suggested the trouble was very near at hand, and that he intended to make it a great deal worse than it already was.

Vree did not know that a human Imperial destroyer could pivot like that, and definitely did not know that it was possible to spin one in a corkscrew, dodging missiles and laser fire, while skimming so close to the enemy fleet that sparks flew as pulse-shield met pulse-shield.

He might have left deep claw-marks in the steel of the guard-rails, which was somewhat better than the humans who scrambled off the bridge, decidedly green and sick-looking.

Human Imperial destroyers were huge. Nineteen kilometers or more, by human reckoning, and powerful enough to take on a small armada by themselves.

Human-Luka flew it like it was a one-man fighter with a little extra weight in the back.

Vree was starting to understand exactly why Human-Luka insisted on flying the ship himself. Surely there were few who were his match in skill.

But no matter how good he was, the China was badly outnumbered, and eventually their blazing run cane to a close as the Hoem fleet cornered them. The wreckage of a destroyed planet loomed around them, shattered in a long-ago war the humans waged against their own.

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“Surrender the Emperor. This Galaxy is ours.”

The Hoem were large and powerful. Their red skin was marked with rank-patterns, denoting their importance among their people. Their muscles bulged, and their tails curled up over their heads, barbed and toxic. An empire of their own, that needed the space to expand and grow. It was sheer bad luck that the next nearest galaxy was that of the humans.

Vree was really very glad that his own home lay farther off, shielded behind the humans’ sprawling empire.

“I believe the situation is not what you believe it to be,” Human-Luka said confidently as the Hoem, wearing a uniform that suggested a very high rank, attempted to stare him down. “I am Lukas Rayhan Goliat, Emperor of the Human Galactic Empire. I am prepared to discuss the terms of your surrender.”

“Surrender? You are alone,” the Hoem said, rows of fine, needlelike teeth showing as he gave a threat-display that made Vree hiss at him, determined to protect his young friend even against this unstoppable force. “You are vulnerable.”

“I am the Emperor of the Human Galactic Empire and I am never alone,” Human-Luka said, and showed his teeth in a threat-display to match the Hoem’s, and with satisfaction rolling off his skin. “Bring in the tides.”

Human-Amir, at odds with the rest of the crew in their spotless uniforms, joined Human-Luka, confident in a way that made Vree’s fur bristle in alarm.

Something was about to happen.

Something big.

“Hang onto your tail, kitty-lizard,” he said quietly as he stepped to Human-Luka’s side. “Now is time for the old magic.”

Before Vree could ask what was going on, because the humans had been decidedly quiet about their plans, even to him. Human-Amir straightened, centuries of history on his shoulders and a legacy he rarely spoke of burning within his eyes like golden flame.

“I wish,” he said quietly, but with a sense of ageless power echoing behind his words. “That the entire fleet of the Human Galactic Empire was here. Right now.”

Nothing happened.

The Hoem started to laugh.

“Is that all?” It asked, caught somewhere between hilarity and incredulity. “Destroy them!”

The Hoem Fleet opened fire, bright energy weapons lighting the black of space like celebration fireworks.

Vree straightened proudly. This was a warrior’s death. If this was to be his end, at least he would die among friends and allies.

And then, everything seemed to slow, as time sank through honey, crystal at the edges and thick.

Al’Mudhib appeared as a glowing nebula, lit in towering columns of red and yellow light that seemed to burn without smoke. Stars shone where his eyes were supposed to be, and his smile showed the black of Void, where nothing but Nothing dared to exist.

“Your wish is my command.”

The words boomed from everywhere, baying hounds and roaring fire. The scent of sand so hot it was nearly glass, and impossible, overwhelming power.

And then time exploded, soundless but for the shockwave that left Vree’s fur on end, and his lungs struggling for breath as he fought to keep his balance against the whirl of too-hot raw energy that washed over him like an invisible supernova.

And then space erupted into shining silver-white as Carrier Pacifica burst into existence just above them, her great energy-canon already primed, her powerful shields more than enough to block the Hoem’s Fire in silent, colorful splashes of light.

“Carrier Pacifica here,” the comms crackled with a human voice. General LaShan, Human-Luka’s First of Generals. “Ready to fire on the Emperor’s command.”

Human-Luka smiled a smile of deep, deadly satisfaction.

Another explosion shook them and the Hoem. The fleet rocked, children’s toy boats in a pond as devastating power shook them to the core.

“Carrier Caribbean, here and ready,” the new ship reported in, professional, and sharply accented.

A third explosion, and a fourth produced two more of the great moon-sized ships that were the Human’s greatest weapons. With them came hundreds, thousands, of the powerful destroyers, each as big or bigger than the China and bristling with charged weapons.

“Carrier Arctic here,” one called in proudly. “Ready for action.”

“Carrier India here,” the next one echoed. “Give us the word.”

“Carrier Mediterranean reporting in,” voiced a third as another soundless explosion rocked the ships back like an oncoming tide that threatened to overwhelm them. “Ready to rumble.”

“Carrier Golfo De Mexico, ready,” the next called, accompanied by a cloud of smaller ships that darted forward to surround their emperor’s craft.

“Carrier Atlantica here,” the last and final Carrier, nearly as large as the Pacifica herself, and already unleashing her waves of fighters to form a blockade. “Ready for the Emperor’s command.”

Vree clenched his hands on the rail as the human fleet burst into existence, the thrum of Old Magic burning a shiver over his skin even as more and more ships appeared, born by a force that could not be explained and could not be stopped.

Human-Luka squared his shoulders, at once very young, and unbearably aged, and with the light of ancient warriors in his eyes.

He looked out over the fleet that faced them down. At the destroyers of the Hoem. At their fighters. At their frigates.

And he smiled, terrible and unstoppable.

“Open fire.”