Subject: Rear Admiral Fredrick Kennedy

Species: Knuknu

Description: Avian humanoid, non-prehensile tail. 5'10" (1.7 m) avg height. 84 lbs (38 kg) avg weight. 342 year life expectancy.

Ship: USSS Gaping Maw

Location: Unknown

"Damage report," I said.

"Don't have the full yet. From what we've noticed so far, we took a couple of knocks to the armor but all the important stuff is fully functional. Shields are recharging now, sir," Captain Blavro reported. "We were fortunate that..."

The captain trailed off and absentmindedly nibbled on the back of his claws. A habitual cleaning ritual that alumari do when they're stressed. The thought he bear to finish is that we were fortunate that the Carnage took the hits for us, and then its wreckage was able to provide us cover. If it weren't for that, we would have been destroyed.

"Sir, Fleet Leader Oyan is ordering thirty minutes for 'R&R'," Smith said. "Kind of an odd time..."

"He means reinforce and replacement," Omega clarified.

"Understood," I said. "Omega, take over the stations. Everyone else, grab a drink, hit the head, and be back here in twenty minutes."

"Aye, sir," Omega said.

I watched as the crew vacated the bridge, and once the last of them left I leaned back in my chair and exhaled fully for the first time in what felt like eternity. Once I let my guard down, the shakes took over. We had almost died. The other two dreadnoughts were destroyed. It was only by sheer luck that we hadn't been. If we had been on the other side of the Carnage... Or if we hadn't been able to protect ourselves with its corpse...

"Fuck," I whispered, rubbing my beak to sooth myself.

"You should take some time, as well," Omega said.

"By the time I make it to my quarters, I'll have to immediately turn around," I joked.

"You don't need to go all the way to your quarters to-"

"Omega," I interrupted. "I will be fine. This is not my first close call, and I doubt that it will be my last. I understand the reason for your concern, but I am fit to carry on the mission."

"My concern isn't limited to your usefulness," the AI said calmly. "But even if it were, you're not looking at the big picture. Even if you're fit for this mission, what of the next? And when you finally return home? Treating PTSD is intensive and costly. It can be even more costly when left untreated. So it's in everyone's best interest to make sure those around them are mentally fit."

"Touching," I chuckled dryly. "Now leave me be."

"So be it."

Silence filled the bridge, and I let my mind wander. Both ships had managed to launch their escape pods, but there's no doubt that there were still crew aboard when the ships broke apart. We won't know the full scope of the tragedy until much later, though. Long after our next encounter with the MPPs.

They could easily have been the ones wondering about us. I'd almost lost my ship, my crew, and my life. The universe, through machinations unknowable, had seen fit to spare us and take them instead. Why, though? Surely there were people more deserving of life who died aboard the Carnage and the Tip of the Tip. Does it really just come down to luck?

My ruminations only seemed to last for a few moments before my crew started trickling back into the bridge. I adjusted myself and put on an air of stoicism for them, but none of them were looking at me. They all appeared to be wrapped up in their own contemplations. Except for Commander Stevens, who approached me with a mug in hand.

"Here, sir," he said, offering me the mug. "Probably good to have some coffee while we have the chance."

"I appreciate the sentiment, commander," I smiled. "However, knuknu are allergic to caffeine."

"Which is why I brought you some decaf, sir."

"Now you're talkin'," I said as I greedily grabbed the mug from him. "Thanks, Stevens."

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

"No problem, sir."

The commander returned to his station as I took a sip of the perfectly heated ambrosia. I am told that decaffeinated coffee isn't as good as regular coffee, but it's still amazing. Hell, my whole species loves the smell and taste of coffee, sometimes to an unhealthy degree. Something we actually have in common with humans.

The bean brew had actually caused a diplomatic incident when the knuknu and humans began first contact meetings. One of the human diplomats had offered the beverage to a knuknu diplomat without knowing the effects that caffeine has on avian physiology. Thankfully, the knuknu diplomat survived and the human diplomat was able to effectively explain that the beverage was frequently consumed by humans and not considered poisonous.

Neither side had any regulations specifically regarding food and drink, which had been an oversight caused by someone thinking other people had common sense. This incident changed that, and gave both the knuknu and humans a friendly jab at one another. Imagine being dumb enough to feed aliens a toxin at first contact and imagine being weak enough that caffeine can kill you. Ironically, this awkward and nearly fatal incident deepened the relations between our peoples.

"Sir, the damage to our armor has been repaired, and some... uh... lights have been replaced as well," Blavro said.

"Lights?" I asked.

"Yes, sir. Apparently, there was some arcing from the Ultra-MAC that went in an unexpected direction due to an attractant rod getting knocked loose. The rod's been replaced too."

"Are we green?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Did we suffer any casualties?"

"Only one, sir. Ensign Berulla from engineering suffered a minor concussion. He was under a console when we took a hard hit and got a good smack. He's expected to make a full recovery in five minutes."

I chuckled. Concussed engineers were honestly the best one could hope for in such circumstances. Skull knocks, shocks, and broken fingers are par for the course among the field. It's a damn good thing for them that we have great health care.

"Very good, captain. Get us in formation and charge the FTLD."

Captain Blavro began maneuvering into position as I leaned back in my chair, continuing to enjoy my coffee. It's amazing what a cup of the good stuff can do for one's spirits.

"The USSS Carnage and the USSS Tip of the Tip are being replaced by the USSS Clenched Gauntlet and the USSS..." Blavro stopped for a moment and chuckled. "The USSS Hole Puncher. Even I get that one."

Commander Stevens let out an exaggerated sigh, which made Blavro laugh.

"It's only dirty if you make it dirty," I said, placing my now empty mug in the disposal unit built into the side of my chair. "As a matter of fact, I believe you'd be hard pressed to find a more accurate description for an Ultra-MAC."

"I get where you're coming from, sir, but if we aren't careful these names are gonna corrupt our poor, innocent captain here," Stevens said. "Next thing you know, he'll be reading the Alumari Renegade along with the rest of the degenerates."

Blavro stopped laughing and let out a disgusted click, "I'd never stoop so low. The release of that series has caused more damage to human-alumari relations than any other event in our shared history."

"Really?" Stevens asked.

"Yes. How would you feel if an alumari released a series that not only butchered human history and culture, but also made several vastly incorrect assumptions about your anatomy? Now take that feeling, and add the fact that it's an interplanetary best seller."

"Are we ready to jump, yet?" I interrupted.

"Y-yes, sir," Blavro said nervously.

"Good. Engage when we get the order."

There's nothing wrong with a little levity but the conversation had been veering dangerously close to politics, and I have a hard rule against the discussion of such on my bridge. While it's true that the Alumari Renegade and its many sequels had been considered an insult by many alumari, they're not exactly innocent of cultural insensitivity either. Nobody is, for that matter. Both the alumari and the gont had presented painted eggs to the knuknu as first contact gifts, completely ignorant of the implications of such a gift.

"Entering warp, sir," Blavro reported.

"Excellent. Same as before, start the charging sequence first, then find a firing solution," I ordered.

"Aye aye, sir," Commander Horvu said.

"How many MPPs are we expecting?" I asked.

"Just one, sir," Stevens answered.

I nodded. Just one MPP wouldn't be so bad. Unless it received reinforcements, of course. Hopefully, our reinforcements will be a little quicker on the draw if that turns out to be the case. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, steeling my nerves for the upcoming fight.

"Leaving warp, sir," Blavro said.

I turned my attention to the tac-map as we left subspace, and my eyes widened. There was a simply extraordinary amount of Omni-Union ships in this system. Far more than we'd encountered so far. All of this, just for one MPP and a few stations?

"Horvu, keep at least four MACs targeting the nearest OU ships and have the rest target the MPP's MACs," I ordered. "Fire at will."

"Aye aye, sir."

The charge indicator for our Ultra-MAC began to increase as our shield indicator began to decrease. Our shield's decline was much slower than it had been previously, indicating that the MPP was trying to hit all three of us at once. Perhaps it noticed that destroying us one at a time wouldn't work.

I waited patiently, watching our shells and ships destroy Omni-Union vessels with ruthless efficiency. How many more would we have to destroy? Will they give up, or will we have to hunt down and destroy every last one of them? Do they fear extinction? Are they even capable of understanding what death is?

I opened fleetcomm and checked our total casualties. Millions of ships lost on both sides of the conflict so far. This figure represented millions of people, as well. I don't even know how many VI are aboard an OU ship. All lost, and for what? We don't even know what this is all about.

"The MPP has stopped firing, sir," Blavro reported.

"Good job, Omega," I said with a laugh.

"Sir, I'm locked out of my console," Horvu said with panic tainting his normally stoic voice.

"Holy shit," Stevens exclaimed. "Everyone has stopped firing! Even the OU!"

"Omega? What the hell is going on?" I demanded.

"Sit tight, Admiral," Omega's voice sounded over the intercom. "Things just got interesting."

"Interesting? Interesting HOW?" I shouted.

"The MPP that we've just run into is designated Mobile Prime Platform One," the AI explained. "And I am currently negotiating a cease-fire."