Admiral Stonefist and Kinnit were planetside at the outpost, overseeing the rescue efforts. The losses were heavy. Of the hundred or so workers at the outpost, fifteen were dead, and another forty or so were injured, some severely.

In spite of working for the Imperial Navy, none of the outposters were combatants-- they were administrators, dock jockeys, and warehouse workers.

The planetoid itself was a small, dusty rock, mostly gray. A nearby star washed the surface in reddish light. Everything looked dim in the uncertain light.

The planetoid was too small to have decent gravity, but the outpost had an artificial well installed, bringing the gravity to about 80% of Terra normal.

The outpost itself was-- or had been-- only a few buildings. A storage warehouse, an administrative building, the ion cannon, living quarters, and some support buildings.

Now, the surface was pocked with impact craters and blaster strikes. The dirt around the craters had been melted to a crunchy, glassy crust. The buildings had been shielded, avoiding damage from direct blaster fire, but the surface of the planetoid had been so damaged that the foundations of the buildings had buckled and heaved out of place.

The survivors mostly wandered around outside. After having suffered intense strafing and bombardment, trapped in buildings that should have become their graves, they were anxious to get outside.

Some of them were helping with cleanup, or tending the wounded, but many were hysterical, broken, and dysfunctional. Some wandered, some wept. One man was leaned against the wall of an office making a repetitive noise... not quite a scream, but not quite a moan, an eerie, high-pitched wail, over and over, still trapped in the bombardment in his mind.

The dock foreman was sitting on the ground, shaking and weeping. Grimthorn was trying to interview him, with limited success.

"What sector did the enemy come from?" Grimthorn asked. "Were there any pre-hostility communications? Did they open with a broad attack, or was it a focused strike?"

"There were so many," the foreman blubbered. "So many. They blacked out the sky."

"Right, but which jumphole did they come from? How did you detect them?"

"They killed Jerry," the foreman moaned, a whine in the back of his throat threatening to escalate into full-blown gibbering. "He... was trying to get to me... the explosions... then he was... he was in two pieces..." Tears spilled as his wide-rimmed eyes stared into his memories.

"Did you detect them on radar? Was there any communication?"

"Sir?" Kinnit said, laying a hand on his elbow. "May I try speaking to him?"

"Oh, do what you want. This one's worthless."

Kinnit squatted down next to the foreman. She rubbed his back.

"It's okay. It's okay. You're safe now."

He turned his broken eyes to her.

"They killed my friend," he said.

"I'm so sorry." She hugged him, and he wept. "I'm so, so sorry." She held him for a long time. The man's sobs slowly tapered off. "Tell me about your friend," she said.

"It was... Jerry, he was... he was a good guy, you know? He wasn't... wasn't always the brightest..." The man barked a half laugh, half cry. "But he, he loved being here. 'There are so many stars,' that's what he always said. He would always come out and look at them. He was watching the stars when they c-came... that's how we knew..."

Admiral Stonefist started.

"Wait, you didn't see the bugs on the long-range scanners? You made visual contact first?"

"Jerry saw them first," Kinnit corrected him. "He saved our friend here."

The foreman nodded gratefully.

"That's right. We don't get alerts for Vylar ships, because they're allies. But Jerry saw them forming up and he ran in, and we-- we-- we laughed at him." The man teared up but maintained his composure. "Because who would possibly want to attack us way out here?"

His face hung loose as he had a realization.

"If Jerry hadn't warned us... we wouldn't have been able to get to comms in time... they'd have killed us all. Nobody would even have known until the next shipment came in. In three weeks." The foreman started hyperventilating. "We'd all be dead for three weeks before anybody even knew."

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

Kinnit rubbed his back.

"Shh, it's okay, you're safe now. You're safe. We're here now."

Grimthorn nodded.

"That explains the scale of the attack. Their plan was to hit hard and fast, wipe out the outpost before they could get a message out. We're on the edge of Vylar space, and this outpost is the only one for light years in any direction. The bugs could have come in here and exited Vylar space anywhere."

"But sir," Kinnit said, still comforting the foreman, wouldn't the Vylar have detected them as the Oryndrax traveled through their space?"

"Maybe. Unless the Vylar were part of the plan. The bugs did have Vylar ships."

Grimthorn frowned.

"I think we need to take a hard look at how those ships ended up in Oryndrax hands. Or claws, whatever."

Kinnit glanced at the foreman.

"Is this a discussion for another time, perhaps, Admiral?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, yes."

Admiral Stonefist turned to the foreman as Kinnit helped him to his feet.

"Your friend Jerry may have saved a lot more lives than he'll ever know. I promise you that I will use all the influence at my disposal to ensure that Jerry has a military funeral with full honors and a medal of bravery. That is the least that the Imperium owes a hero."

"Th-thank you, sir." The foreman started to crumble again, and Kinnit led him away to a place where he could recover and grieve.

Kinnit hurried back to the admiral's side as soon as she could.

"What next, sir?"

"We'll get a scanner ship on patrol. A couple scouts, too. I don't think the bugs will try this sector again, but a visible patrol will help ease fears here on the outpost. With so many casualties, they'll need to staff back up as well. I'll work with CenCom on that."

Kinnit busied herself punching notes into her scanner while Admiral Stonefist stared off into the stars.

"As for us, I think we're done here. Investigators will be by in a few cycles to examine everything, but I don't think they'll find much more than we've already discovered."

He turned to Kinnit.

"I... want to thank you for handling that foreman. He was much more forthcoming with you."

Kinnit flushed with pride.

"Thank you, sir, I--"

"I wouldn't have thought a Subject Species would have had the empathy to handle that situation well. Good show."

The rest of Kinnit's sentence died on her lips. Her brows drew down and a snarl crept onto her face as she opened her mouth to retort, but Admiral Stonefist had turned away and was already heading for the shuttle.

----------------------------------------

Admiral Stonefist slammed a fist down on his desk.

"Blasted Council!"

"What's wrong, sir?"

"I'm trying to requisition an investigator for the Vylar threat, and they're playing stupid bureaucratic games!"

"Who is?"

Grimthorn took a deep breath.

"The Council of the Admiralty is a group of the four top Admirals of the Imperium. We set policy and hold each other accountable, and broadly direct the use of all Naval resources."

"That sounds... reasonable."

"Yeah, for a bunch of bureaucrats. They're dragging their feet on this investigation 'so we don't antagonize the Vylar.'"

"But aren't they all admirals? Don't they recognize the threat of a Vylar betrayal?"

"They're paper pushers. They don't care about the military consequences, or the long-term impact, they're just trying to make sure they don't get blamed for anything."

Kinnit had a belated realization.

"Wait, the top admirals... shouldn't you be on the Council?"

"I am on the Council. But I'm outnumbered. There's myself, Old Admiral Balia of the Third Fleet, Cora Din of the Fifth Fleet and Dermot Lander of the Seventh. Cora and Dermot always oppose me. Old Balia just sides with the majority." Grimthorn shook his head. "Balia was once the greatest naval commander in the Imperium, but age has robbed him of... everything, almost."

"Oh."

Grimthorn leaned back in his chair, breathed deeply through his nose and stayed still for a minute. A small, mirthless smile appeared on his face.

"It was good to be back in the fray."

Kinnit's brow crinkled in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"Busting bugs. The battle in yankee dog sector. I haven't been directly involved in battle like that in..." He fell silent for a minute, thinking. "Too long."

He sat back up and spun his chair to look out the port, taking in the glittering spray of the galactic arm.

"I'm made to be in battle. It's what I am. But when you're good at something, really talented... when you're successful enough for long enough, they make you stop doing it. I'm a man of action, but now I'm hemmed in by paperwork and bureaucrats." He ground his teeth. "I need to be out in the field."

Kinnit cocked her head to the side.

"What do mean you're not in battle? The Ninth Fleet is legendary!"

"Was legendary. Now we're a carefully kept showpiece, shuttling around between galaxies. Yankee dog was the first good blood-and-bones encounter we've had in years."

Admiral Stonefist sagged in his seat, staring at the stars.

"And I've been soaked in bureaucracy for so long I've become one of them. I do paperwork and argue in Council meetings and show up for presentations and meaningless social events."

Kinnit set her hands firmly on her hips.

"Wrong!"

Grimthorn looked up with a raised eyebrow. Kinnit's color was up, and she wore a fetching scowl.

"Sir, I don't know if you recall, but I was on the bridge in yellow dog. I watched you in action. That was the scariest thing I've ever experienced in my entire life! But you took charge and defeated the enemy and saved lives! Lots of lives! Sir, I've never seen anybody handle a ship and crew like that!"

She took a deep breath.

"Granted, it's not the way I would have done it. That was... well, not how I would have done it. But that's why it worked! Would a bureaucrat have come up with that plan? No! I got to witness the great Admiral Stonefist in action, and it was more terrifying and wonderful than I'd ever imagined!"

Grimthorn stared slackjawed at her outburst. She carried on.

"Who commands the Ninth Fleet?" A bunch of slips and data, or the great Admiral Grimthorn Stonefist?"

A smile flickered across his face.

"I suppose you're right." He nodded. "That's right. Why am I arguing about asking for an investigator when I've got a whole fleet right here?"

He stood and straightened his uniform.

"Assistant Kinnit, the Ninth Fleet is going to pay a visit to the Vylar."