Evan looked into the bathroom mirror, examining his face. Save for a few scratches that had already started to heal, he was in far better shape than he had any right to be. He reached behind his head, brushing his fingertips against the hard polymer that protruded from the back of his neck. It ran most of the way between the base of his skull and his shoulders, the device segmented to prevent it from limiting his range of motion. It was surrounded by scar tissue that was still raw to the touch, making him wince.

Just as the doctors had promised, he had regained all of his faculties, and the tingling in his fingers had abated after a little tweaking. He could almost have pretended that nothing had happened at all if it hadn’t been for the cocktail of painkillers and immunosuppressants that still coursed through his veins.

He splashed some water on his face, then stepped out of the tiny bathroom and into the temporary quarters that he had been assigned. The room was scarcely larger than a storage closet, with a pair of bunks for him and Hernandez, who was currently out for a checkup on his busted arm. They were scheduled to be transferred to another assault carrier soon, but it would take some time for the members of the hardest-hit companies to be shuffled around. Until then, they would remain on the Rorke.

Evan made his way over to his bunk, the mattress squeaking as he sat down on it. All the downtime was driving him crazy. He wanted to get back down to the surface, he wanted to pay the Bugs back for the attack on the convoy, but there was nothing that he could do to speed the process along. He’d already asked a favor of the admiral himself during his visit to the infirmary, and he wasn’t about to push his luck by making a stink.

What he needed was a way to take his mind off things. There were recreational facilities on most UNN ships, and they were more elaborate on the larger jump carriers like this one. The problem was, he didn’t know anybody here. It would be weird to go to a bar or a rec facility on his own, and Hernandez probably wouldn’t be back for a while.

He turned to the touch panel on his wrist, scrolling through his list of contacts. Jade had given him her serial number before they had parted ways, which meant that he would be able to contact her if he needed to. She should still be on the carrier. He hesitated with his finger hovering over the call button, then lowered it. After a few moments, he heard her voice crackle through the speakers, deceptively feminine.

“Evan? Hey, what’s up? Let me guess, the admiral wants to debrief us yet again?”

“Hey,” he replied, feeling a little foolish. Did Jarilans even have a concept of hanging out? “Nah, it’s nothing official. So, I’m pretty much bored out of my mind right now, and I wanted to know if you’d like to go get a drink or play a game of pool or something? You’re the only person I know on the whole carrier save for Hernandez, and he’s getting his arm looked at right now.”

“Oh!” she replied, seeming taken aback by his request. “I mean…sure, I’m not exactly busy right now.”

“Cool,” he replied, relieved. “Meet me outside the infirmary – we both know where that is – then we can go find the bar or something.”

“You got it,” she replied cheerfully. “See you there in…fifteen?”

“Great,” he said, ending the call. He lay back on the bed, staring at the underside of the bunk in the stack above him. Why did this feel more like asking a girl out on a date than seeing if a friend wanted to hang out?

***

Jade was waiting for him outside the infirmary when he arrived, her two pairs of arms crossed as she leaned against the bulkhead adjacent to the door. He noted that she was still wearing her tank top, the white cotton contrasting with her camouflaged shell. It gave her an odd appearance, reminding him of a girl who was wearing her boyfriend’s oversized t-shirt and nothing else. That wasn’t the case, of course. Although the skirt that she wore matched her natural carapace in color and texture, it seemed to be a piece of armor. Besides, he didn’t even know if she had anything to cover up. Her antennae twitched as he approached, Jade glancing up, her eyes seeming to lag behind them.

“Hey,” she said, raising a hand in greeting.

“Looks like your ship didn’t send you a new chest piece yet,” he said, nodding to her top.

“Nah, it has to be made to spec,” she replied. She reached down with her lower arms, gripping the hem of the garment, stretching it as she glanced down. “I don’t mind, though. I kind of like it. This material breathes a lot more than synthetic armor.”

“What do you guys wear when you’re off-duty?” he wondered.

“We don’t really do off-duty,” she said, reaching up to slick back one of her feathery antennae like a human woman might adjust her hair. She smiled, the plates that made up her face shifting. “So, what did you have in mind? I assume you didn’t invite me here just so that you could comment on my fashion choices.”

“Oh, right,” he chuckled. “Yeah, I was thinking we could go get a drink or something. There are bars and rec facilities onboard, at least according to the map I downloaded from the intranet. You guys do drink, right?”

“We can,” she replied cryptically.

“Okay. I just wanted to make sure you’re not going to get alcohol poisoning and keel over like a Borealan if I give you a jello shot.”

“I prefer sweet drinks,” she replied, standing up straight. “Ever had a peach schnapps?”

“Can’t say that I have,” he said with a shrug.

“Good,” she continued, standing up straight. “Then I’ll be able to show you something new.”

They made their way through the winding, claustrophobic guts of the carrier, Evan following the map on his wrist display. There were colored lines painted on the walls to help people navigate, too, but the place was like a maze. He had thought the assault carrier was large, but the Rorke was several times its volume. The ceiling was a mess of insulated cables and trailing pipes, access points for the machinery and electronics that ran behind the bulkheads marked with yellow warning signs. The deck was mostly made up of removable metal grates, with yet more miles of cable and piping running beneath them.

They walked past crew quarters, an expansive mess hall, and even the hangar areas as they made their way through the belly of the ship. Finally, they managed to locate one of the ship’s bars, as there were several spaced out along its half-kilometer length. For a crew of up to ten thousand, that didn’t seem excessive.

After climbing a narrow flight of stairs that led to a higher deck, they arrived at the bar, stepping through the doorway. On the right side of the room was a faux-wood counter, and behind it were rows of shelves lined with dozens of colorful beverage bottles. The glass that protected them made it look more like a vending machine than what one might find at a traditional bar, and that was kind of the point. Rather than having a human bartender sitting behind the counter, this one was staffed by a large mechanical arm. You entered your credit account number, selected the beverage that you wanted from a touch screen, and then the robot would mix it for you. It couldn’t listen to your problems, but it was programmed to prevent you from getting wasted. The crew were allowed a limited allotment of two alcoholic beverages per day, and only when off-duty, with their intake carefully monitored.

To the left of the room were a dozen booths, along with a pool table, a dartboard, and some videogame terminals to keep the patrons amused. The bar was all but deserted right now due to the ongoing invasion. There were only a couple of off-duty engineers occupying one of the booths, halting their conversation to glance over at the newcomers.

Evan and Jade walked up to the counter, taking a seat on the stools. They sagged a little under their weight, loaded with a spring system that would lower them level with the bar based on the weight of the occupant, allowing larger species to share them.

“You ever use one of these before?” Evan asked, reaching for the touch panel. It was suspended on a flexible gimbal that was mounted on the ceiling. He pulled it closer, raising the display on his wrist to scan it across the reader, unlocking the menu.

“This is actually the first time I’ve ever been on a UNN ship,” she replied. “The Constancy was built in Jarilan orbit by Jarilan Workers. It’s a little different from the Rorke,” she added with a chuckle. “If you can believe it, this ship is downright spacious in comparison. Not that it really matters, since we go into hibernation during travel. No need for mess halls and rec facilities if you’re asleep for the whole journey.”

“So, they just wake you up when you’re ready to fight?” Evan asked. “That’s gotta be disorienting.”

“I prefer it,” she replied. “I climbed into my alcove, went to sleep, then I woke up in Kerguelan orbit. No need to mess around trying to entertain myself for months.”

“They didn’t let you visit Valbara?” he continued, raising his eyebrows.

“Hell no. The Valbarans hate us. They don’t want us going anywhere near their planet.”

“Damn, that sucks,” he muttered. “Valbara was a really cool place. I get why they feel the way they do, but coming all that way only to be told that you can’t even land is kind of fucked up. You might never get the chance to visit again.”

He tapped in his order, the pair watching the mechanical arm spring to life, its servos whirring as it reached for one of the shelves. The glass panel slid back to give it access, and it caught a bottle of vodka between its rubberized jaws, bringing it down to the counter. Next, it selected a coffee liqueur, setting the bottle down beside the first. It produced a crystal glass, then filled it with ice cubes from a dispenser below the bar. With robotic speed and precision, it began to mix the drink, putting on a rather entertaining show. When it was finished, it added a glug of cream, then set the end result down in front of Evan.

“I suppose it’s faster than a human bartender,” Jade mused. “I just flash my ID, then?”

“Do you have a credit account?” Evan asked. “There’s no way to access bank information on deployments, so we transfer money into temporary banks that are stored on the ship’s intranet. That way, we can still buy stuff when we’re light-years from any inhabited planets. That’s where our wages end up until we make it back to civilization, too.”

“Oh, I don’t think I have anything like that,” she replied, her antennae drooping. “Back home, we use money when dealing with the colonists sometimes, but the hive provides everything we need.”

“Huh,” Evan mused, guiding the touch panel back over to him on its gimbal. “That’s alright, I’ll buy you a drink. It’s the least I can do to thank you after you pulled my ass out of the fire. I should be buying you the whole fucking bar.”

“That’s my job,” she laughed. “I help keep the squishies alive. Thanks, though.”

“Peach schnapps, right?”

“That’s right,” she replied, crossing her long legs. She rested her lower arms on the bar, cradling her face in the upper pair as she watched the bartender move. The robotic arm slid her drink in front of her, and she caught it in one of her upper hands, raising it to her mouth. To Evan’s alarm, her fleshy lips parted wide, the plates of her face rearranging as they opened up like a beak. The illusion of a humanoid face was shattered, a long, flexible tube extending from within. There were no teeth inside, no throat, only off-blue flesh. The azure appendage dipped into the drink, starting to suck it up like a straw.

She noticed that he was watching her, seeing the surprise in his expression. After a couple more sips, the tube sucked back into her mouth like a straw, her face returning to its usual shape.

“Sorry,” she began, those same plates moving to mimic speech. She could talk like a human, but it was all an act. She had no throat, no vocal cords, and the motions of her lips served only to sell an illusion. “I didn’t consider that you hadn’t seen a Jarilan eat before.”

“It’s fine,” he replied quickly, cursing himself for his lack of tact. “It just took me by surprise, is all.”

“We eat using a proboscis,” she explained, the plates of her face opening up again. She raised a hand, the flexible, prehensile tube of blue flesh coiling around her fingers with surprising dexterity. She continued to talk all the while, confirming his suspicion that her mouth had little to do with speaking. “We mostly eat honey provided by our Repletes, so we don’t need to chew like you do, but we can still drink liquids if we want to.”

“Then…what are the lips for?” he asked. “Why does your mouth move when you talk if you’re not actually…y’know.”

“We were designed to be as human as possible,” she explained, returning to her drink. “Being able to communicate with humans involves a lot more than just speech. There’s facial expressions, body language, all of these intuitive interactions that most people aren’t even aware are happening. It all requires its own wetware, too, parts of the brain evolved to process that information. We have to be able to smile or frown, we have to understand sarcasm, the tone of someone’s voice. This,” she added, gesturing to her face. “Is all so that we can interact with you in the most natural way possible.”

“I didn’t realize that you’d been…purpose-built,” he replied, taking a sip from his glass. “I always assumed it was a natural product of being a hybrid.”

“The Queen was very invested in making us as appealing and as inoffensive as possible,” Jade explained with a dry chuckle. “Her survival depended on it. Other hives survive by evolving the most deadly weapons and adaptations, making themselves as dangerous as possible, but I’m here because mine decided that making friends with humans was the best way to stay alive.”

“Does that bother you?” he asked hesitantly, not sure if it was too personal a subject for a friendly conversation. “Being made for one specific reason?”

“No,” she replied with a confident shake of her head that made her antennae bob in the air. “I find it comforting, actually. I have more autonomy and agency than any Bug thanks to my human DNA, but I’m still part of a hive – I still know why I was born. I like knowing what my purpose is.”

“I guess that’s one way to look at it,” Evan conceded. “Most humans go their whole lives trying to find purpose. You’re born knowing the meaning of life right off the bat.”

“Well, in a purely practical sense,” she added. “We don’t exactly have a dedicated philosopher caste, if it wasn’t obvious.”

“So, if you don’t have a bank account, where the hell did you get peach schnapps?” Evan asked.

She laughed to herself, taking another sip of her drink.

“There’s a young colony growing on Jarilo, and the bar is the center of public life there, naturally. A lot of Jarilans go there to mingle and practice their human interaction.”

“And the colonists don’t mind that?” Evan asked, surprised by the idea of humans and Bugs mingling so readily.

“We joke that there are three stages of Jarilan colonist,” she began, raising a hand. She lifted three fingers, which was all she had, starting to list them off. “The first is the reaction we get from most people – anger. They won’t talk to us, they don’t want to be around us. The second is tolerance. They realize that we’re not going anywhere, so they put up with us. The third is acceptance. They get to know us, we win them over, and they start treating us like everybody else.”

“You have to go through that process with everyone who goes there?” Evan asked, his eyes widening. “That’s gotta be exhausting.”

“Everyone we meet, for the most part,” she sighed. “But, that’s our job, right? We were made to interact with humans, and it’s our mission to win over as many of them as we can.”

“Well, you won me over,” Evan added, Jade smiling at him. Even if the plates that made up her face were an illusion, he could see that the smile in her eyes was genuine.

“So, yeah,” she continued as she took another sip. “If you want to hang out with farmers and engineers, you’re going to need to pick a favorite drink. Mine is peach schnapps.”

“What’s it like there?” Evan asked.

“Pristine forests, a primitive ecosystem, practically limitless resources. It’s going to be a thriving powerhouse colony one day, we’ll make sure of it, but I’m enjoying the rustic charm while it lasts. What was it like on Valbara?” she added, glancing over at him.

“The place was like a giant preserve,” he replied. “The Valbarans live in walled cities and let nature run its course outside of them. Where we landed, it was all grassland and patches of forest. Inside the walls, it’s like a resort. The place was great, easily the cleanest city I’ve ever visited, full of people who were happy to have us there. I felt like a celebrity sometimes. People would come up to me wanting to take pictures,” he chuckled. “They’re really grateful for what the Coalition did for them, and honestly, it’s a morale boost. It’s one thing to be thanked for your service, but it’s quite another to have a kid climbing all over you trying to show you his toy Beewolf. It’s not often that we get to see the direct result of what we do and the impact it has on everyday people.”

“That sounds adorable,” Jade cooed. “Maybe I’ll get to see it one day. There are so many places I’d like to go that I can’t. Earth is another one.”

“They won’t let you go to Earth?” Evan asked, his brow furrowing.

“There’s a UNN fleet in orbit around Jarilo,” she explained. “They say it’s there to protect the planet, which is partially true, but we all know that those guns are pointed at the ground. It’s their insurance policy in case we act up. They’re very selective about who comes and goes. It’s relatively easy to move to Jarilo – the UN even offers cash incentives to new colonists – but everyone who goes there gets screened carefully. There are a lot of people out there who might want to settle a score, and the Jarilans are considered an important military asset. In theory, I could apply for a visa to travel to Earth, but I think you know how that would probably play out.”

“I’m from Earth,” Evan added. “Trust me, you’re not missing much.”

“It’s the only homeworld we have, though,” she protested. “It’s where our ancestors evolved, the cradle of humanity.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I’m half human, and nobody knows where the Betelgeusians came from,” she explained. “Even the name is a misnomer. They didn’t originate in that star system, it was just the first place the UNN encountered them. Earth is the only other planet we can trace our heritage back to.”

“I’m sure you’ll get there,” Evan replied, downing the last of his drink. “If you keep building a good reputation, one day, it’s going to precede you. You won’t have to start off on the wrong foot every time you meet someone new.”

“That’s the plan,” she sighed. “Hey,” she added, gesturing over her shoulder towards the back of the room. “You want to play some darts?”

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“Sure,” he replied, sliding off his stool. “I didn’t know you’d played before.”

“Jarilo might be a backwater compared to Earth or Valbara, but our bar is very well furnished,” she replied with a smirk. “Come on, I’ll show you a party trick.”

Evan ordered a second drink, then they walked over to the table nearest the dartboard, setting down their glasses. There were five darts on the board, Jade plucking them from it one by one, using all four of her arms. Evan noted that the two engineers were watching them from their booth, but he didn’t pay them any mind.

Jade set the darts on the table, gesturing to them.

“You go first,” she insisted. “Let’s see what you can do.”

“I like to think of myself as a decent shot,” he said, picking them up. “Are we playing professional rules or just seeing who can get closest to the bullseye?”

“Bullseye,” she replied.

He positioned himself in front of the board, then started to throw. The first three strayed a little wide of the center, the fourth hit the outer bullseye, and the final one found its mark.

“Not too shabby,” Jade said, walking across the room to retrieve the darts. He stepped aside as she took his place, using her upper right hand to aim, which seemed to be the dominant one. One after another, she landed them around the outer bullseye, the last one hitting dead-center.

“Okay, that’s pretty good,” Evan conceded.

“That’s not all I can do,” she said with a smile, retrieving the darts again. This time, she held four of them at once, one dart in each of her hands. She lined them up, moving each dart independently, making tiny corrections in a way that was oddly mesmerizing. All at once, she let them fly, Evan hearing the muffled thud as they hit the board. She had arranged three of them in a triangle pattern around the bullseye, the fourth dart landing in the center. There was still one dart left, and she aimed it carefully, closing one eye. Evan watched it whistle through the air, embedding itself into the tail of the dart in the center.

She stepped back, looking pleased with herself, Evan giving her a slow clap.

“Very impressive.”

“That’s just a parlor trick,” someone said, Evan turning to see one of the engineers rising from his seat. “Darts isn’t a game about hittin’ the bullseye, it’s about being precise with your score. In fact, if you hit another dart like that durin’ a real game, you wouldn’t rack up any points at all.”

“Sounds to me like someone thinks he can do better,” Jade replied, her tone playful. Evan was wary of the strangers, but Jade’s enthusiasm was infectious. Despite how often people judged her by her appearance, she was still eager to make new friends, gesturing for the engineer to approach.

The man set down his glass on his table, then straightened his yellow coveralls, making his way over to the board. He walked over to their side with the darts in his hand, Jade ceding her place to him.

“We’re playing 501 up,” he said, lining up his first shot. “We start with 501 points total, and whoever gets their score to zero first wins. Three darts per turn.”

“I know how to play,” Jade replied. “You want to make it interesting?”

“Wouldn’t be a challenge if there were no stakes,” the surly engineer replied. “The loser pays for the other party’s drinks.”

“Deal,” Jade replied.

Evan pulled her aside, keeping his voice low so that the engineer couldn’t overhear him.

“Jade, you don’t even have a bank account!”

“Don’t worry,” she chuckled, giving him a reassuring pat on the arm. “I won’t lose.”

They turned back around, watching the engineer throw his first dart, his friend cheering him on from their booth. After a few rounds, it was clear that Jade had superior accuracy. It wasn’t really a fair competition, not when she had been genetically engineered to be a crack shot. She switched between arms so readily, shattering Evan’s previous assumption that she had a dominant one.

Evan watched her trounce him round after round, but as surly as the engineer came off, he didn’t get angry. With her final throw, Jade got her score down to exactly zero, no more and no less. She pumped her fist, the engineer shrugging his shoulders.

“Fair ‘nuff. I guess you win, Bug lady.”

“Thanks for the game,” she replied, ever gracious.

“I guess I’m payin’ your tab tonight,” the engineer muttered. “Good thing they don’t let us drink more than a couple of glasses.”

Evan and Jade returned to the bar, the plucky Jarilan chuckling to herself as she climbed onto her stool.

“Told you I wouldn’t lose,” she said, nudging him with her elbow. “Oh ye of little faith.”

“I’m just glad you’re on our side,” he replied, setting his glass back down on the counter. “I didn’t really get to see you in action when we were down on the surface. Things were too chaotic – I was more concerned about keeping my head from getting taken off. Can you shoot like you throw darts?”

“There’s a lot of interesting things you can do when you have four arms,” she replied, giving him a wink. “The guy who came up with our training program back on Jarilo is an ex-scout sniper, so he prioritized accuracy, naturally. On top of that, we have a genetic legacy going back who knows how many thousands or millions of years. Drones are bred to be fighters.”

They were interrupted by a buzzing coming from Evan’s wrist, and he looked down at the display. After a moment, the same happened to Jade.

“New deployment orders,” he said, glancing back up at his companion. “We’ve been reassigned to the Omaha, and we’re shipping out in a few hours. Does it say Delta company for you?”

“It does,” she replied. “It seems as though Admiral Vos was able to pull some string for us like he promised. We can stay together.”

“This is going to be so weird,” he continued, shaking his head. “I went through boot with most of the guys in my old unit. I’ve spent years living on the Spratley. I never thought we’d be getting shuffled around like this. I guess the Omaha must have lost a lot of people, same as we did.”

“If I can make friends, I know you can,” Jade chuckled. “Well, duty calls,” she added as she slid off her bar stool. “I’d better go pick up that new chest piece before we ship out. This tank top isn’t exactly regulation.” She reached out to ruffle his hair, the show of affection surprising him, but not unpleasantly so. “I had fun tonight. It’s a shame it was cut short. I guess I’ll see you in the hangar later?”

“Y-yeah,” he replied, raising a hand as she made her way out of the bar. “I’ll see you there.”

***

“My fuckin’ arm itches!” Hernandez grumbled, sliding his hand beneath his sleeve. He tried to get a finger under the cast but was unsuccessful, grimacing to himself as he walked alongside Evan. After his latest visit to the infirmary, they had removed the immobilizing support, replacing it with a flexible mesh that would protect the bones while they finished healing.

“I swear if you start chewing on that thing like a dog, I’m gonna find you a cone,” Evan said.

“You think they put cones on Borealans?” Hernandez asked, his grimace morphing into a grin.

“I wouldn’t ask them about it, not unless you want two busted arms.”

They were making their way through one of the Rorke’s cavernous hangar bays, the wavering force field that kept in the atmosphere to their right, the stars beyond bleached away by the bright glow of the planet below. The area was a bustle of activity, the racket of power tools and engine checks drowning out all other sounds. Engineers ran back and forth, servicing rows of Beewolfs, rearming and repairing the jet-black aircraft. Evan noticed a gigantic Krell wearing a yellow poncho who was helping lift missiles onto the extended racks of one of the craft, dwarfing the human engineer who was directing him with the help of a tablet computer.

Their destination was a row of four dropships that were waiting near the barrier, their engines idling, their troop ramps open. There were already a few dozen people standing around waiting to board. Most of them were Marines clad in their camouflaged armor, but there were a few aliens, the towering Borealans impossible to miss. Evan spotted Jade, too. She was the only Jarilan, her horn making her easy to pick out in a crowd.

As they drew closer to the dropships, a new sound rose above the din. It was a warming klaxon, flashing red lights descending from the ceiling high above. Holographic hazard barriers were projected from the deck, sectioning off a substantial area of the hangar, everyone who was nearby clearing out like the devil was on their heels. Towards the back wall, the metal plates that protected the area beyond from engine backwash during a launch extended, forming a protective cordon to shield the aircraft and supplies behind them.

“The fuck is goin’ on?” Hernandez wondered, the pair stopping in their tracks to watch.

“I dunno,” Evan replied. This was the first time he had been on a jump carrier, and he didn’t know their protocols.

The answer soon became evident. Through the translucent barrier to their right, he spied an object that was blotting out the light from the planet. As it drew closer, it took on the telltale silhouette of a Penguin, a ground-attack gunship. It was damaged, limping more than it was flying, trailing a plume of dark smoke from one of its engines.

“Holy shit,” Hernandez muttered as he watched. “Dude took a beatin’. Looks like he’s tryin’ to land the thing.”

The craft’s sleek hull was covered in plasma burns, the protective heat tiles melted and scarred in places. It looked like it had been strafed by something – maybe an enemy aircraft or one of the mobile AA platforms that Evan had seen used to such deadly effect. One of its stubby wings had been all but torn off the fuselage, and the thrusters on that side of its hull seemed to be damaged, requiring the thing to list to stay stable. It was coming in hot – perhaps too hot.

As it neared the carrier, the Penguin pivoted, firing its remaining engine in an attempt to slow itself. With its thrusters so damaged, it might not have the punch to reduce its velocity in the usual way. The pilot was threading a needle, and the thread was on fire…

It reached the energy field, coming in a little lower than it should have, shearing off its landing gear. It skidded across the bay on its belly, leaving a shower of sparks in its wake, black smoke still spewing from one of its engines. It billowed up, filling the hangar behind it with a noxious cloud, obscuring the craft as it slid backwards. There was a monumental crash as it impacted the raised blast shields, dumping its considerable momentum into them, pieces of shattered hull sent bouncing across the deck.

After it had come to a jarring stop, a team of first responders came running. There were medics clad in combat armor, braving the wreckage to reach the pilot’s canopy, while engineers wearing hooded suits set about tackling the engine fire. The dark smoke was drawn into the ceiling by powerful vents, preventing it from choking the hangar, while nearby panels in the floor opened up to reveal fire hoses. The engineers picked them up, starting to spray the burning wreckage with fire-retardant foam, quickly choking out the flames.

It seemed that the canopy was jammed shut, the medics trying desperately to pry it open. Evan could make out the pilot inside, driving his shoulder against the glass in an attempt to lift it. The Krell that had been loading missiles nearby turned his long snout, seeing that they were in trouble. With a burst of alarming speed, he raced over to the crashed ship. The hulking reptile skidded to a stop, slamming into the craft’s nose in his haste, his mass enough to rock the entire gunship. A medic who had climbed up behind the canopy leapt clear to give the alien more room, the Krell gripping the metal frame with his many-fingered hands. He heaved, sinewy muscle bulging beneath his scales, snorting like a bull as he wrenched it loose. He tore the canopy right off its hinges, sending it bouncing across the deck. The pilot seemed uninjured, but the Krell lifted him out regardless, carrying him like a doll. He deposited the man carefully on the ground nearby, where he was swarmed by a team of medics.

The fire had been contained now, the entire aft section of the Penguin covered in a layer of hardening foam, forming beige-colored stalactites as it dripped to the deck. The smoke had stopped, and the last of it was being cleaned away by the ventilation system with surprising efficiency. Evan knew how dangerous an uncontrolled fire in an enclosed space could become – he had run enough fire drills on the Spratley.

“I guess things aren’t goin’ much better on the ground,” Hernandez whistled. “How did that guy even make it back up here in that state?”

“Better than ejecting in Bug territory,” Evan replied. “It’s a gamble whether the roaches or the rescue team will find you first.”

As they continued towards the dropships, Jade turned her head away from the scene, raising a hand to wave to him.

“You guys all buddy-buddy all of a sudden?” Hernandez asked, giving him a sideways glance. “What happened while I was gettin’ my arm patched up?”

“We hung out,” Evan replied with a shrug, not sure why the question was making his cheeks warm. “Played some darts, had a few drinks, chatted a while. She’s pretty cool once you get to know her. Y’know, for a Bug.”

“Yeah, I kinda feel bad for givin’ her the cold shoulder when she first showed up.”

Like the Marines, Jade had her pack on her back, her XMR hanging from one of her shoulders on its sling. Her helmet was clipped to her belt, and it seemed like her new chest piece had finally been delivered.

“Eyeing my chest, Evan?” she joked as she walked out to meet him. She gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder, then rapped her fist against the hard plate. “Good as new. I kind of wish they’d let me keep the old one – it’d make a cool conversation piece.”

“I’m glad that pilot decided to land on the opposite side of the hangar,” he muttered, glancing over at the wreckage. Engineers were swarming it now, the Krell helping them move some of the larger pieces of debris.

“You and me both,” she replied, following his gaze. “Being up here, it’s easy to forget that war is still raging on the surface. Can’t say I’m eager to get back to it, but that’s the job, right?”

They were ordered onto the dropships, the trio mounting the troop ramp of the nearest craft, strapping into the bucket seats. Evan felt the hairs on his arms stand on end as the ship slid out into space, acceleration tugging at him. A few of the Marines spared Jade lingering glances, more curious than anything. If they were being reassigned, they had probably fought alongside Jarilans on the ground already, so the shock of seeing one had likely worn off by now.

It was a short ride to the Omaha, the dropship sliding through another force field and into a similar, albeit smaller hangar bay. Evan felt the landing gear hit the deck, the ramp opening again to let in a flood of recycled air, the passengers filing out. There were no Beewolfs here, only dropships and a pair of Penguins that were being refueled ready for another sortie. At the back of the hangar were two spare landers, kept in reserve in case one of the active ones was shot down.

As the reinforcements piled out of their dropships, a group of Marines approached, clad in their combat armor. Evan quickly recognized them as sergeants, along with a lieutenant who was likely in charge of their company. The sergeants lined up like they were on parade, the lieutenant stepping forward to address the newcomers.

“Welcome to the Omaha,” he began. “You’re here because your original companies took enough losses that they’re no longer combat effective. You lost friends, you lost comrades, but you few made it out. You’ve been formed into what we like to call a Ghost Company, new fighting forces born from those that had to be disbanded due to catastrophic casualties. Your home carriers will be reinforced in time, but right now, we need to reassign personnel to get as many battalions back up to full strength as we can. You’re part of Delta company now, and your new home will be the Omaha until somebody tells you otherwise. Report to your sergeants – they’ll give you further instructions.”

The sergeants began to call out their vehicle numbers, the troops checking the orders on their wrist computers before stepping forward.

“Seventeen!” one of them shouted, Evan glancing down at his display.

“That’s us,” he said, Jade and Hernandez following after him. Nine other men joined them to form a squad of twelve, Evan noting that they had one too many before remembering that Jade had originally been part of a three-man Jarilan team. They would probably be reinforced with more Jarries on the ground. All of the men were Marines, save for two towering Borealan Shock Troopers who stood head and shoulders above their counterparts.

“My name is Sergeant Simmons,” the man began, walking along the line as they stood to attention. “I’m the commanding officer of Delta-seventeen. You’re part of my crew now. If you’re here, it’s because you’re survivors, or maybe you’re just lucky. I’ll take luck if that’s all I can get.” He raised his forearm, projecting a holographic image of Kerguela from his computer, its surface separated into colored regions. “The Omaha battalion is being deployed back into the Red Zone, where your original companies were ambushed.”

“Red Zone?” one of the Marines asked.

“The moon has been separated into color-coded theaters,” the sergeant explained. “The most up-to-date intelligence says that these regions are controlled by a new caste of Bug that fills the role of a field commander. I’m told that some of you have seen these things first-hand,” he added, glancing at the men. “They’re code-named Kings. Our job will be to support more specialized teams as they try to root out Red King, the ugly fucker who was responsible for the attacks on your companies. Since we wiped out their global communications network, it’s unlikely that they’re in contact with their Queen anymore. Kill a King, and the region falls into disarray.”

The two Borealans seemed especially pleased by the notion, nudging each other.

“I have it on good authority that a lot of you could have gone home, but chose not to,” Simmons continued. “The way I figure it, that means you’re here for payback. Follow my orders, do your jobs, and you’ll get it. For now, go unload your gear in the crew quarters. You have two hours before the next wave of deployments.”

They headed out of the hangar and into the familiar, yet somehow alien guts of the assault carrier. The layout was exactly the same as what Evan remembered from the Spratley. The winding corridors that he had lived in for months at a time were burned into his memory like an afterimage, but parts of it were different enough to be jarring. Small details jumped out at him – different colors and paint schemes where repairs had been done, minor changes and customizations that hadn’t been present on his home carrier. It felt a little like visiting a house that you used to live in, only to find that while the layout of the rooms was familiar, the furniture and décor had all been replaced. These vessels might come out of the shipyards looking identical, but years of being lived in changed them in subtle ways.

They soon arrived at the temporary crew quarters that had been assigned to them. Rather than the more private four-man quarters that Evan was accustomed to, these were communal, with a dozen bunk beds in each one. Two of the beds were conspicuously larger than the others, and their frames were reinforced, designed to handle the weight of the Borealans. They must have been moved in here on short notice – he could see the scratch marks on the deck.

“I’m not really used to sleeping on a bunk,” Jade said, reaching down to press her fingers into her mattress experimentally.

“Where do you sleep if not in a bed?” Evan asked, shrugging off his pack. He began to unpack what few belongings he had brought with him, little more than clean uniforms and a few trinkets, stowing them in the locker beside his bunk.

“Usually with my sisters,” she replied, not elaborating any further. “In an alcove, if I’m on the Constancy.”

“I don’t think we’ll be doing much sleeping anyway,” he replied. “They said we only had a couple of hours before we have to deploy.”

“So, where are you guys from?” one of the Marines asked as he leaned against the frame of a nearby bunk.

“The Spratley,” Hernandez replied, tossing a folded uniform into his locker. “Echo company.”

“I heard the Spratley got hit hard,” the stranger replied.

“And Echo got the shittiest end of the stick,” Hernandez continued, slamming the door shut. “What about you?”

“Four of us are from the Dragoon,” he said, three of his companions nodding or raising a hand in greeting. “I think we were up North of you guys when the shit hit the fan. The name’s Brooks, Alpha company. Well, formerly Alpha company,” he added solemnly. “There are only about half of us left now. This is Donovan, McKay, and Garcia.”

Hernandez introduced himself, then Evan and Jade, Brooks’ eyes lingering on the Jarilan. Evan bristled, expecting trouble, but the man’s expression softened.

“Jarries are alright by us,” he said. “We had three assigned to our Puma, and they fought like demons. A lot more people would have died if they hadn’t been around.”

The two Borealans strode past, overhearing the conversation, one of them leaning in to give Jade a sniff with his pink nose. She glanced up at him, the feline towering a good three feet above her, her antennae standing on end in what might be alarm.

“They have a strange scent about them,” he said, rolling his Rs like a purring cat. “More human than Bug. More polite than the monkeys, though.”

“And who might you be?” Evan asked, the Borealan turning his yellow eyes on him.

“I am Borzka, and this is Tatzi,” he replied, gesturing to his companion with a long arm. There was a female standing behind him, an impressive specimen with fiery orange hair that matched the male’s, her biceps the size of Evan’s head. It was considered almost a rite of passage for Marines to sleep with Borealans during their integration training, but Evan had never seen the appeal. Most of their women looked like they could snap a man in half. “We are all that remains of Sigma pack, assigned to the Guam.”

“My condolences,” Jade said, the Borealan turning his piercing eyes on her. “You lost your family.”

“And you, your littermates,” he replied. His voice was a low growl, but not intimidating. “Spilt blood will be repaid in kind.”

The aliens moved away, heading to the large bunks on the opposite side of the room, where they began to unload their gear.

“I didn’t expect the Borealans to be cool with the Jarries,” Hernandez whispered, but his voice wasn’t low enough to go undetected by the sensitive ears of the felines. The female, Tatzi, turned around to face them again.

“The insects of Jarilo show proper behavior,” she replied in as deep a feminine voice as Evan had ever heard. “They challenged, they lost, and they were inducted. A Borealan does not hold animosity towards one who accepts their place when a bout is done.”

“That makes sense,” Jade added, her antennae waving as she nodded her head. “The Queen surrendering and joining the Coalition is a little like a Borealan submitting to their Alpha.”

“What about you guys?” Hernandez asked, addressing the two remaining Marines. They were keeping conspicuously apart from the rest of the squad, choosing the furthest bunks. The two men glanced over at them, then shared a look. It was hard to read their expressions. Was that anger? Disgust?

“How can you stand to be near that thing after everything that happened?” one of them demanded. “We’re all in the same boat here – our companies got slaughtered, some of them almost to a man. Yet here you are, coming aboard with that roach like it’s one of us.”

“Nobody else here has a problem with ‘em,” Hernandez replied, spreading his arms as he gestured to the rest of the squad. “Not even the madcats. Doesn’t that tell you somethin’?”

“We have our orders,” the second man added. “If the higher-ups tell us we have to tolerate those things, then so be it, but we don’t have to get all touchy-feely with them. As long as it keeps its distance, we won’t have an issue.”

“What do you mean by an issue?” Evan asked, balling his fists as he stepped forward. Jade reached out to place a hand on his chest, her touch cooling him down.

“Remember what I told you back at the bar?” she whispered.

“Stage one?” he replied after a momentary pause.

“That’s right. I’m used to this, so don’t worry about it, okay?”

“But-”

“Confronting them will only make it worse,” she added, her tone becoming more serious. “Trust me, I’ve been through this process a dozen times.”

Evan stepped back, following Jade’s advice. The men were Marines, so he trusted them to do their jobs, but whether they would stick out their necks to protect their insectoid squadmate was another question. He resumed unpacking his gear, sparing the two men another glance.

As time passed, he noticed that they would interact with the rest of the team as long as they were far away from Jade, Evan eventually learning their names through overhearing their conversations. They were Collins and Foster, originally assigned to the Dragoon’s Charlie company. Everyone who had fought with the Jarilans so far seemed to have at least a neutral opinion of them, so perhaps they hadn’t been assigned any. Either way, he wasn’t keen to leave Jade’s side in an attempt to appease them. If they wanted to talk to him, they would have to come over to his end of the room.

He contented himself with mingling with the other members of his team, making small talk with everyone save for the intimidating Borealans. Before their two hours were up, an alert sounded from their computers, Evan checking his display to see that they had been summoned to the garage.

“We’re deploying already?” Brooks wondered, reaching for his helmet.

“Things must be heating up on the ground,” Jade replied, checking the magazine in her XMR.

The sergeant suddenly appeared at the door to their barracks, waving for them to follow.

“Get your shit, we drop in fifteen!”