I led a fleet of tens of thousands of ships from the Council shipyards to attempt to destroy Fortress Sol. There were over 300 million ships in the entire attempt to destroy the home system of the lemurs.

That's a nice way to put the fact that the Unified Council sent 242 billion Lanaktallan to their deaths on the guns of the lemurs. -- From "The Darkness of the Hasslehoff", Admiral (Upper Decks) of the Warsteel (Formerly Grand Most High Executor) Mru'udaDa'ay, EPOW Camp 90210, New Singapore Press, TerraSol, 2nd Year Post-Sol Invasion

Admiral Rippentear clenched his hands around the chrome bar that surrounded the holotank. The bar was scarred by Treana'ad commanders rubbing their bladearms on it, Rigellian females twisting at it, Mantid commanders sharpening their bladearms. It didn't bother Rippentear, whose knuckles were covered in scars from the brawls belowdecks of his younger days.

"Boarding parties are closing with captured enemy fleet elements," Commander Reginald "Two Fists" Sattari called out.

"Status on the ships not disabled?" Rippentear asked.

"They're manuervering. We're not sure for what," Sattari stated.

Rippentear got that feeling*.*

*"*Any snitches near the non-disabled ships?" he asked, tapping at the holotank. It rippled, fuzzed for a second, then came back showing jumping and dancing icons for a second before the jamming was cleared up.

"Close."

"Get them in there. Call off the gunnery crews," he said. He moved around the tank, stopping to grab the chrome handle again. "Get the snitches in there."

"Aye, sir," Sattari stated.

The enemy fleet had taken a smattering of missiles. Rippentear wasn't willing to go to the superluminal weapons, not wanting to tip his hand to the enemy.

Or the Ornislarp Noocracy.

Or the two dozen Confederate vessels within his line of battle.

Yesterday's enemy is today's friend and today's friend is tomorrow's enemy, he thought to himself, his eyes going to what the Confederacy had claimed were heavy and super-heavy vessels.

All of them were in the tonnage range of a Solarian Iron Dominion medium cruiser.

"Marines and digital boarding parties are making entry into disabled enemy ships," Sattari stated.

"Admiral, Ornislarp Command is demanding to speak with you," one of the crew at the communications station called out.

Rippentear nodded, moving over to the Big Chair and sitting down. He took off his helmet, ran his hand against the bristles along his jaw, then leaned back and nodded.

The Ornislarp armored and was fairly low to the ground, with ten spindly armored legs that went upward at a steep angle before the knee and the straight angle to the floor. The armor hid the large hairy abdomen and thorax, armored head, twelve eyes in the front, pinchers and writhing tentacles to pull food into their jawplates.

Rippentear admitted to himself that the Slappers gave him the creeps.

"Why are you not destroying those ships?" the Slapper on the screen squealed, with a faint grinding sound behind the words.

Slappers spoke by tentacle writhing, rubbing their mouth grinding plates together, and slapping their four tongues together.

"They are Dominion property and we are retaking them," Rippentear said, projecting calm. He twitched his foot to his XO and the XO nodded.

The Ornislarp commander saw the view widen to take in another throne.

A human moved forward, stepping over the back of the throne and sitting down, sliding down slightly in the chair, putting one of their two elbows on the armrest and then putting their chin in that hand.

The Ornislarp commander felt a slow burn of anger at the way the newcomer was sitting.

"The Noocracy demands you destroy those ships," the Ornislarp said.

The human, who had hair around his mouth and on his chin, bared his teeth.

"The Noocracy is in no positions to make demands upon the Dominion," Rippentear said.

The human lifted one leg and crossed his legs slowly, putting one ankle on top of the opposing knee.

The Ornislarp commander's tentacles began writhing and flailing.

"You are supposed to be defending us!" he shouted.

The human uncrossed his legs and crossed them again while Admiral Rippentear appeared to think about it.

"No," Rippentear said. "Yes, but no. That is Dominion property, dangerous in the wrong hands, so we have made strides to take it back."

The human with fur on his face was baring his teeth wider in what the Ornislarp commander's computers were claiming was an expression of amusement.

"WE ARE NOT TO BE MOCKED!" the Ornislarp commander screamed as the fur faced Terran uncrossed and recrossed his legs again, this time shifting so he was leaning against the other arm of the armored seat, putting his chin in his other hand.

"Indeed," Rippentear said.

"DO AS WE COMMAND OR ELSE!!!" the Ornislarp screeched.

"Are you threatening the Dominion with violence?" Rippentear asked.

The human with the fur on his face began smirking. The Ornislarp commander knew that was what the expression was called, even if his computers stated it was respectful amusement.

That Terran, crossing and uncrossing his legs, was smirking at him!

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

"We are the dominant species in charge in these systems! You are a relic of a bygone age!" the Ornislarp command screamed.

"“You may test that assumption at your convenience," Rippentear said.

The smirker just smirked even smirkier.

"DESTROY THOSE SHIPS RIGHT NOW!" the Ornislarp commander screamed, then cut the link.

Rippentear shook his head as his XO burst out laughing.

"What is it that makes everyone so angry about sitting and smiling?" the XO laughed.

"It's a human thing, sir," Commander Shrewarkat, a Rigellian female, said between clenched teeth. She hated that series of bodily positions.

"Statuses?" Rippentear asked, standing up. The XO did the same, moving over to a separate holotank as Rippentear moved to the main one.

"Snitches are attached and running silent," Sattari said.

"Boarding parties?" Rippentear asked.

"They've made entry. So far, they haven't found any resistance or even anyone home," Sattari said.

Rippentear nodded.

The icons changed on the ships still under enemy control.

"STATUS CHANGE!" Sattari barked out.

The ships moved forward, vanishing into the icons designating flashgates. They reappeared outside the resonance zone and immediately went to jumpspace.

Rippentear just nodded.

"Status on the snitches?" he asked.

"Golden, sir," Sattari stated. "Getting good feed and telemetry. Wherever they go, we'll know. Operators are nifty-shielded and will wake up when the enemy fleet comes out of jumpspace."

Rippentear nodded again.

"Keep me informed," he said. He turned to Lieutenant Senior Grade Nawk-Traw. "Doublecheck our Ornislarp lexicon for body language. I want to be sure of what I'm seeing," Rippentear said.

He brought up the Ornislarp commander's image.

"You're holding back," Rippentear murmured. "You're afraid of something, and it isn't my guns, but it is my guns. What are you holding back?"

"Admiral, there's an issue with one of the boarding teams," Commander Sattari said.

"Casualties?" Rippentear asked, turning away from where the computer was making estimations on the Ornislarp commander's moods and truthfulness.

"None. There's just... well, General Breastasteel forwarded it to you, said you need to take a look at it," Sattari said.

"Hmph," Rippentear swept away the windows. "If Ol' Iron Pants kicks it up the chain, it's a problem."

The windows opened.

"Admiral," Breastasteel said.

"General. What is the issue?" Rippentear asked.

"Boarding parties are starting to meet the enemy, but things just went sideways," Breastasteel said. "Right now, I'm ordering the boarding parties to hold position, no aggressive actions."

Rippentear raised an eyebrow. "No aggressive actions? From Marines?"

Breastasteel laughed. "Right? But, Admiral, you have to see this."

Rippentear lifted his chin slightly as he took a deep breath and steeled himself for whatever he was about to see. "All right. I'm ready."

To be honest, he was ready to see anything from people turned inside out by a Hellspace graze who screamed even as they still went about tasks, to unholy blendings of man and machine still chattering and laughing.

He pushed the memories of boarding that light cruiser away as the window opened up.

Multiple cameras and software put it together like a movie. Radio communication and datalink connections allowed speech to be heard and almost provided inner voice monologues.

The Marines were moving down a hallway, spread out enough that a grenade or satchel charge wouldn't take them out, but close enough it would be difficult to separate them if hostilities broke out. The hallway was the standard Terran grey, with stencils and holograms on the walls. The jet black matte but shiny warsteel of the Marine's armor was matched here and there by conduits or pipes.

Brigadier General N'Phrok moved over to look at what was in the hologram. The Army officer tapped a few controls to make sure he had good resolution and peered at the image.

"Warsteel isn't actually black," N'Phrok said conversationally.

The Marines checked a few open doors, the rooms beyond empty. They continued on.

"What?" Rippentear asked, staring at the image.

One Marine checked a heavy data cable, finding it shut down.

The squad moved on.

"It's light blue. The superconductor properties of it make it so it absorbs the majority of visible and non-visible energy wavelengths, making it appear black," the Treana'ad officer said. "It's a trick of the warsteel's molecule element."

A quick discussion at a crossroads.

They kept moving forward.

Rippentear shook his head. "How a molecule can be an elemental atom is beyond me. A molecule is multiple atoms."

The door was heavily armored, but the keypad was still lit.

The lead Marine started punching in the access code.

Rippentear felt himself tense. This was where the ambushes happened.

N'Phrok displayed amusement. "It's a molecule that is then inverted and becomes a singular atom."

The door slid up to reveal an empty room. Consoles were unmanned, chairs were empty, and the screens were all dark except for one in the center that had a blue screen and the words "Update 1,387 of 4,425,863: 30%. Please do not shut down your computer." on it.

Rippentear rolled his eyes. "That still makes no sense to me."

The Marines moved into the room, clearing the corners and keeping an eye on the doors. Rippentear could see their targeting systems tagging the doors and anyplace that would offer cover and nodded to himself.

"I could explain it, Admiral, if you like. It would only take, oh, two hundred hours of lecture, sixty hours of lab time, and an eighty-four hour power-point," N'Phrok said. "I find upper level materials and physics to be fascinating."

One of the Marines set a small round object next to the computer showing updates, opening a side panel and pulling free a data cable.

"It makes no sense," Rippentear scoffed.

The Marine plugged in the datacable.

"Believe me, Admiral, at the upper levels, physics, materials, and many other sciences just devolve into 'trust me, bro' at their core," N'Phrok said, chuckling as he lit a cigarette.

The Marines were examining the chairs. Many of them had what looked like child booster seats strapped to them and pushed forward, sometimes with under-support to keep them from tipping forward, to allow whoever was sitting there, and that small, to reach the keyboards.

The Marines all spun around as a door opened.

A half dozen small creatures moved into the room. They only wore belts across one shoulder, angling over their small torsos. They were furry, with naked tails behind them, with big heads. They had gray fur with white or black spots here and there. Wide bare skin ears at the top of their heads, big eyes, and small little mouths with four whiskers on either side.

"What is that?" N'Phrok said.

"...not working. Computer not work, ship not work," one was saying in Ornislarp standard.

"Fix," another one demanded.

"Cannot. Updating. System locked out until update is..." the speaker trailed off as three Marines stepped forward and leveled their weapons.

All of the little creatures went perfectly still, their ears rolling up and flattening against their heads and their eyes getting wider.

"Admiral, Ornislarp vessels are moving toward the disabled vessels."

Rippentear growled and pulled his attention from the holotank. "Get me that leader caste on tank four."

"Aye, sir."

The holotank shivered and cleared. What the computer was 80% positive was the same Ornislarp filled the tank.

"Your ships are moving for firing angles on Dominion property," Rippentear said. He turned slightly. "Target Ornislarp fleet elements. All guns."

"They are enemy vessels who have attacked our worlds!" the Ornislarp officer protested. "Unprovoked."

Rippentear managed to keep the 'I'm going to die of not surprise' off of his face when the computer stated that the last part was a lie with 80% certianty.

"If you so much as run targeting solutions on Dominion property, I will respond with overwhelming force to protect it," Rippentear said slowly. "You're on thin ice already, having seized Dominion stellar systems. Do not compound your errors by making the assumption that the Solarian Iron Dominion will allow you to destroy its military property."

"You do not give orders here! This is Ornislarp Noocracy territory, mammal!" the Ornislarp officer screeched.

"Final warning," Rippentear said.

Part of him felt coldly angry at General Tic-Tac. The orders and briefing the other officer had put together had foreseen the Ornislarp turning belligerent against the Dominion forces.

And authorized full counter-measures, up to and including 'highest levels of overwhelming force' available to the fleet.

"Admiral, you'll want to see this," N'Phrok said.

"Run targeting solutions and prepare to engage the Ornislarp fleet," Rippentear moved back to the holotank to see that it was paused pretty much where he had left off.

N'Phrok hit play.

The little creatures all went down on their knees, clasping their hands in front of them.

"Please. Assistance. Help. Assistance, please. Ship broke. Fix, please. Assistance, please. Please. Assistance," they were all saying.

In perfect Confederate Standard.