"LUNAR:  Starship Andromeda"

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LUNAR:  Starship Andromeda

By Jeffery C. Branch and Daryll Pung

Episode Six:  Boiling Point

Rated: R

In standard orbit over Pollus 4, 14 March 2740

Sailor Eldrea was openly shocked at what she heard from Commander Kestrel, who threatened to fire on the two ships that broke from the formation of vessels stationed before Andromeda.

You’ve gotta be shitting me, the stunned Luna-born Senshi thought.  Is this whack job really serious about destroying his own ships?  “Khatari?  Status of the Pollusian battle group.”

“The remaining ships are stationary, but they’ve powered up their weapons, prismatic laser batteries, and appear to have targeted the rogue vessels,” the Isbanni officer grunted in reply.

Son of a bitch.  Take it slow, Audra.  Take it real slow.  Do whatever you can to defuse this clusterfuck before it blows sky high.

“Commander.  I must admit to being somewhat confused,” the Senshi of Alchemy slowly said to her angry counterpart.  “Not more than five minutes ago, you all but pleaded with me not to fire on those ships.  Now you’re threatening to do that yourself?  Might I ask why?”

“Because they have threatened to defect!  That is the worst crime a Pollusian soldier can commit! Our Code of Military Honor prohibits such a shameless and cowardly act!  And the punishment for treason is death!” Kestrel shot back.  “In the six centuries we have been a space-faring race, no fighting man from our world has ever defected, and I mean to make sure that doesn’t happen now!”

“Even at the risk of murdering hundreds of your fellow countrymen?”

Kestrel, his eyes now blazing from out of control fervor, nodded.  “Yes!  Happily!  The Code demands I redeem the military’s honor by executing those faithless traitors!”

“What you’re saying is extremely harsh.  Is there any way we can resolve this situation without resorting to violence?” Sailor Eldrea asked.

“Absolutely none!  By breaking ranks and asking for asylum from otherworlders, those fools have already declared their lives forfeit!  Our laws now demand we pass swift judgment and destroy them, lest they bring further shame and disgrace upon the Pollusian people!  Death to those miserable cowards is the only answer!”

The Pollusian’s manic declaration left the bridge crew stunned.

By the Crystal!  He means it, thought a now worried Sailor Eldrea.

On the other viewscreen, a frightened Leftenant Vlnova spoke up.  “Sailor Eldrea!  You must protect us!  Going back to the fleet now would mean death to us all!  We beg you!  Help us! Please!”

Sailor Eldrea, feeling her options for defusing this situation swiftly disappearing by the second, made a motion to Ensign Kwan to mute the audio.  She then turned to Setar at the science station.  The Luna-born Senshi had one last idea left, one she didn’t like because of the enormous danger involved, but felt it was her avenue of last resort.  “Setar, just how effective are their weapons?”

“According to the intelligence we managed to gather, prismatic laser batteries are practically worthless against our shielding.  Our shields will prevent virtually all damage from them. However, there is a second weapon system we have not yet fully identified, due to the weak, stealthy nature of our scan,” Setar answered. “It is heavily EM-shielded internally, possibly to protect the crew, or to prevent analysis of it.  It is a potential threat.  And we have to assume the Pollusians have targeted our vulnerable areas just as we have targeted theirs... despite the fact that they have not been able to perform a detailed scan.  However, there is a flaw with their ships.  A major flaw.”

“Explain,” Sailor Eldrea ordered.

“The Pollusians draw power for their weapons from a central energy bank which also powers their shields, and it appears to be an interconnected system,” the Vulcan officer replied crisply. “They are unable to fire their weapons and deploy their shields at the same time because of the enormous energy drain.  When using their weapons, the ships, while composed of thick, durable hulls, are completely defenseless.  Consequently, using their shields leaves them unable to fight back.”

“Not at all efficient.  It’s offense or defense, but not both,” Khatari, ever the tactician, growled.  A trace of a wolfish smile curled his lips.  “That does give us a much needed advantage, Captain.  What do you have in mind?”

“Something that could get us killed if I’ve guessed wrong about this situation.”  Sailor Eldrea turned to the helmsman.  “Mr. Rostov, position the ship directly over the Pollusian rogue vessels.”

Rostov turned to face Sailor Eldrea, his eyes wide.  “Captain?”

“Something wrong with your hearing, mister?  Follow my orders!” she snapped at the helmsman.

As Andromeda maneuvered herself over the rogue ships, Kestrel became apoplectic.  With a nod from Sailor Eldrea, Kwan restored the audio.  “Sailor Eldrea!  What are you doing?”

“My duty.  After careful consideration, I have decided, as commanding officer of this vessel, and official representative of Neo-Queen Serenity the First, to grant the captains and crews of Destroyers D-46 and D-23 full asylum as per the regulations of the Archerton-Vassilovich Treaty of 2308,” Sailor Eldrea strongly intoned.  “Effective immediately, those ships are now under the full protection of the Royal Star Navy.  The only way you’ll attack your former countrymen is to attack us!”

Marquis City, Pollus 4, inside the Alpha Zone, 14 March 2740

As a blindfolded Ryvvius walked, the barrel of a weapon nudged into his back to keep him moving, he kept his mind occupied by counting his footsteps to judge the distance as he descended stairs, then traveled through what figured was a tunnel from the echoing he heard.          

Are we underground? the Cygnian wondered.

After what felt like hours, Ryvvius climbed steps and felt a soft breeze on his face.  A scant few minutes later, Ryvvius heard a door open, then he was made to sit down and his blindfold removed.  The Cygnian blinked a few times to reorient his eyes to the light and saw he was in a chapel where a large marble figure of a thickly muscled Pollusian man with long, flowing hair, wings and a loincloth, holding a sword in one outstretched hand, and a shield in the other, before him on the wall.

Theth-Anon, I presume, Ryvvius thought.  Quite an impressive looking fellow, I must say.

Seated next to Ryvvius in the front pew was a nervous Miriele, who stared in abject confusion at her new surroundings, then at the half-dozen hard faced men in dark robes pointing weapons at them, open disdain mirrored in their eyes.

“Where the hell are we?” she asked in a low voice.

“In church, Lieutenant.  Mind your language,” Ryvvius calmly replied.  He then turned to the man in the Lunarian styled suit, which he saw as the leader, and gave him a wry grin.  “So, Pastor, when are you going to pass the plate around?  Or have the Lieutenant and I been recruited for the choir?”

“I’m afraid your sense of humor, if that’s what it was, is lost on me, sir,” the man said simply.

“Well, being kidnapped in broad daylight, and at gunpoint, works wonders for my sarcasm.”

The man nodded to the others surrounding Ryvvius and Miriele, and they lowered their weapons.  “I humbly apologize for the harsh way you and your subordinate were treated.  We’re living in perilous times and can’t afford to take chances.”  He then bowed to the officers.  “My name is Y’Dridgen Ursola, Sub-Assistant Minister of the Marquis City branch of the Holy Church of Theth-Anon.”

Ryvvius cocked an eyebrow from mild surprise.  “Is that a fact?  How interesting.  But you’re also one of Praetor Kodos’ assistants.  Does he know that you’re a member of the church?”

“No.  He would have me arrested and thrown into prison if he did,” Ursola said glumly.

“Why would he do that?” a curious Miriele asked.

“Kodos is a bigot.  He’s grossly intolerant of our religion and sees Anonists as a cancer, a plague that should be expunged from Pollusian existence,” Ursola replied, his face twisted from anger and disgust.  “Worse, he’s rumored as favoring incarceration of all church members into concentration camps.  Sadly, he got the idea for that from you Lunarians, having studied the Nazis and their atrocities during your Second World War.  Kodos doesn’t show it publicly, but he’s an absolute sociopath.”

Ryvvius stroked his chin and frowned.  “Disturbing.  If this is true, Mr. Ursola, then the situation here is worse than we were told.  Now, for the million credit question:  why were we brought here?”

“To help us overthrow the council, and restore peace to our planet through the revered teachings of the most anointed Theth-Anon.”

“Oh, really?  I’m sorry, Mr. Ursola, but toppling regimes is not what RSN officers do for a living,” the Cygnian sternly replied.  “The Golden Millennium’s strict Non-Interference Directive forbids us to meddle in a planet’s government, unless in times of a catastrophe and we’re forced to intervene, and even then, only to save lives.  If we’re to interfere, then I damn well want to know why.”

“Minister!  Can we trust these outsiders?” a suspicious, younger man asked Ursola.

“Yes, we can, H’Guro.  Because they are outsiders, they can be objective and see the facts for what they are without bias or prejudice.”  Ursola then turned to Ryvvius and Miriele.  “I have taken you away from the palace, away from Kodos and his spies to hear the evidence I’ve collected, which proves that the council is league with the Dark Kingdom.”

Hearing that, Ryvvius cocked an eyebrow.  “You don’t say.  All right, sir, you’ve officially piqued my curiosity.  Just what sort of evidence do you have to verify your claim?”

“Nothing.  Because this fool won’t reveal his suspicions,” snarled H’Guro who, along with the other robed men, aimed their weapons at Ursola and the RSN officers.

“H’Guro?  What is the meaning of this?” a stunned Ursola demanded.

“Allow us to show you.” The features of the man called H’Guro and the five men suddenly warped and they transformed into gray-skinned brutes, still holding their weapons level. 

Dark Kingdom Infiltrators.

The transformations startled Ursola and Miriele. 

“Well, I certainly didn’t see that coming,” Ryvvius muttered.

Royal Hall

Sailor Siryn, having heard General Drocargh’s accusation, eyed the man cautiously.  Kodos and nearly all the members of the council, however, didn’t take his declaration at all well and began shouting at the military man.  Zhitenn and the religious faction remained silent.

“What?  How dare you, Drocargh?  After everything I’ve done for you?” an incensed Kodos roared, his voice louder than the others.  Ventura, as usual, took notice of everything, a sly smile curling her lips.

“Quiet!  All of you!” Sailor Siryn shouted.  The council members acquiesced, but not willingly. The Senshi of Sound then turned to Drocargh.  “That’s a pretty damning accusation to make, General.  What sort of evidence do you have to substantiate your suspicion?”

“For the last six months, our espionage units had been monitoring unauthorized transmissions from several locations in Marquis City.  Locations favored most by council members,” Drocargh replied.  “Upon tracing the point of origin for those transmissions, we ascertained that they came from beyond our solar system, deep within what you Lunarians call the Alpha Zone.  From Dark Kingdom space!”

Kodos became flushed with rage.  “What?  You were spying on us?”

“It was the only way to uncover the council’s treachery!”

The Senshi of Sound frowned.  Not good, Fiona.  Not good at all.  If Drocargh is right, and enemy agents are on Pollus, possibly masquerading as council members, then the invasion of this world is already underway.  Damn you, Sailor Neptune!  What sort of hornet’s nest have you dropped me into?

“Lies!  Falsehoods!  Prevarications!  No council member would be foolish enough to conspire with the enemy!” Kodos shot back angrily.  “Understand this, Sailor Siryn, while we have little love for the Golden Millennium, we totally despise the Dark Kingdom!  We would not throw in with a thuggish, barbaric race of violent misanthropes that would subjugate, if not destroy our race!  Drocargh is intentionally fomenting disorder as part of his plan to stage a coup and overthrow the council!”

“Only because the council is destroying our very way of life!” the general retorted.

“Ungrateful bastard!  You’re the one doing all the destroying!”

“Shut up!” an irate Sailor Siryn shouted, her temper growing dangerously short.  Ventura noticed that and was concerned. “General, do you have firm proof of these enemy communications you mentioned?”

Drocargh nodded, a look of smugness on his face.  “I do, Sailor Siryn.  I planned to use it to blackmail Kodos into resigning his post as council leader, but now that you’re here, you can rate the value of the intelligence, then take steps to have this madman removed from his position.”

“Madman?  Isn’t that a little harsh, general?” Ventura asked.

“Not at all.  Among secret communications he held with council members, Kodos was working on legislation to our constitution that would outlaw the Church of Theth-Anon, have its top leaders, including Viceroy Zhitenn, jailed without due process, throw Anonists into detention camps, raze parishes, and permanently ban all religious activities on Pollus.”

Now it was Zhitenn who lost his importable calmness as he glared in disbelief at Kodos.  “By the Sacred Robes!  Kodos!  Is this true?

Kodos stewed for several long moments.  “I am not at liberty to say.  It is state business.”

“State business, the elimination of our religion, which has been part of Pollusian culture for thousands of years?  State business?  How dare you!” yelled a now indignant Zhitenn.  “You vile, megalomaniacal cretin!  What would possess you to take leave of your senses in such a revolting way?”

“I’d like to know the answer to that myself,” Sailor Siryn added, an edge of growing anger in her voice.  “The right of people to practice the religion of their choice is fully inalienable from one end of the galaxy to the other.  Who the hell are you to arbitrarily take that right away?”

“Someone who wants to save his people from the madness religion can bring about!” Kodos hissed back, his eyes suddenly bright from rage.  “My plan will free Pollus from the insanity of the church, and the legions of fools who’d follow Zhitenn to the grave, just like before!”

Like before?  Most interesting, thought Ventura, a slight smile curling her dark red lips.  Suddenly I’m beginning to understand Kodos’ actions.

“What plan are you talking about?” Zhitenn demanded.

“Let me show you!  Austrum!  The signal!”

At the far end of the dais, the council member, whose suspicious attitude Ventura noticed earlier, reached under his robes for something.  The black woman, suspecting the man was reaching for a weapon, jumped at Austrum and grabbed his wrist, but, with surprising speed, he backhanded Ventura, who fell hard to the floor and didn’t move.

“Gabrielle!” Sailor Siryn cried.

Austrum removed a communicator and pressed a button on the top.  All at once, the doors burst open and a dozen soldiers rushed in, aiming their weapons at Drocargh’s people, Zhitenn’s contingent, and the unconscious Ventura and Sailor Siryn.

In standard orbit over Pollus 4, 14 March 2740

Kestrel glared dangerously at Sailor Eldrea, who glared right back.  “That is an unfortunate course of action you’ve chosen to take, madam.  The Code requires me to eliminate those traitors, at any cost.  To stand in my way is extremely foolhardy since we outnumber you.”

Sailor Eldrea was unimpressed, and it showed on her attractive face.  “That doesn’t matter to me, Commander.  We have the overwhelming edge in firepower.  Shoot at us and I’ll blow you to bits.”

“I’ll call for help from our fleet.”

“Feel free.  I’ll destroy them too, followed by shipyards, launching docks, everything.”

Kestrel’s eyes narrowed. “You’re bluffing.  The RSN doesn’t possess that kind of power.”

“That’s what you think.  You have no idea about the destruction a battleship like Andromeda can wreak,” Sailor Eldrea snapped, her temper soaring.  “Tell me, Commander, are you willing to risk the lives of thousands of Pollusians, just to call my bluff?  That’s a stupid course to take!  Just say the word, pal, and I’ll gladly drop the hammer on your candy ass!”

Kestrel went silent, his face locked in a scowl.  The viewscreen went dark as the connection was cut off on his end, something the Senshi of Alchemy found rude.

“Dickhead!” she grumbled.

At that moment, the main doors whooshed open and Doc Ellie, wearing a white lab coat over her uniform, strode onto the bridge.

“Could you use some additional wisdom, captain?” she asked.

“Gladly, Doctor.  You’ve been monitoring this clusterfuck?”

“Yes.  When the Counselor is off-ship, the CMO or the Assistant is required to fulfill those duties.  Sailor Siryn values my opinions.  I hope you will too,” the Amaran casually replied. “It’s clear that Commander Kestrel was caught off-guard by your stand.  I’m of the belief that he’s never been confronted by any off-worlder, least of all a woman.  Chauvinism is probably part in parcel to the Pollusian mindset.  That’s why he severed communication with us.  I’m guessing he’s collecting himself.”

Sailor Eldrea stroked her chin from thought.  “Makes sense.  What would you suggest, Doctor?”

“Well, the final decision is yours, of course, but now that you’ve done the bad cop act, switch gears and be the good cop.  Show Kestrel your sincere willingness to talk, to resolve this situation by peaceful means instead of continuing the infantile ‘my guns are bigger that your guns’ exchange you had with him.  I think he wouldn’t be interested in dying for no good reason.”

“Sounds like a good idea.  I don’t want to start a war out here.  Anything else?” Sailor Eldrea asked.

“Yes.  Please try and keep your temper in check.  Arguing with Kestrel won’t solve anything.”

“No promises.” 

At that moment, the screen came back on, showing a dour faced Kestrel.

“Welcome back, Commander.  Regarding what I said earlier, I have no desire to kill.  I shouldn’t have said such a thing.  The mission of the RSN is to preserve life, not destroy it.  I’d only be too happy to talk with you in the hope of avoiding a senseless battle.  That should be your goal, too.”

Kestrel’s face was a mask.  “My position is unchanged, Sailor Eldrea.  I have the Code to uphold.  The traitors must be eliminated.”

Fuck me.  Temper, Audra.  Temper.

Sailor Eldrea, frustrated, took a deep breath.  “Is your Code that important to you?  Is it worth all the lives that could be lost, including yours, if you open fire on us?  Commander, I can understand fighting to the death to protect your homeworld.  I’d do the very same thing if Luna were threatened, but this?  With Pollus teetering on the verge of chaos, fighting us is a problem you most definitely don’t need.”

“I’m sorry, but I have to uphold Pollusian honor.”

“How?  By blowing your countrymen, and us to kingdom come?  Maintaining honor doesn’t have to require rattling sabers or starting needless battles.  Commander, please, I ask you to reconsider my offer.  If we can only get together and talk, I’m positive a resolution can be reached without bloodshed.”

Now it was Kestrel who sighed from exasperation.  “You don’t understand us, Sailor Eldrea.  You don’t understand what it means to be Pollusian.  Life itself is secondary to the core values to which we’ve adhered to for untold generations.  Everyone in this battle group, including me, would rather die with honor than live with the shame of knowing we failed to eliminate traitors to our race.  Since you’ve chosen to protect those filthy defectors, we have no choice but to attack you as well!”

“Captain!  The remaining Pollusian ships are powering up their engines!” Setar warned.  “They are preparing to move in on us!”

Oh, shit!  From the frying pan and into the fire, a scowling Sailor Eldrea thought grimly.

Marquis City, Pollus 4, inside the Alpha Zone, 14 March 2740 

Ryvvius, ever the strategist, calmly summed up the situation and saw it was fairly untenable.  Still, he had no reason to be worried.  Miriele, having never faced the Dark Kingdom in the flesh before, was shocked.  And while the Cygnian was surprised to discover enemy soldiers on Pollus, Ursola was openly horrified.

“What… what are you?” he stammered helplessly.

“Dark Kingdom Infiltrators.  In other words, six members of the enemy,” Ryvvius calmly replied.

“You are correct, scum.  My real name is Kotou, espionage agent second class of the Dark Kingdom,” the man said in a growl.  “My mission, and that of my fellow agents, was to infiltrate all areas of Pollusian government, foment chaos, and prepare it for takeover by our masters.”

Ursola’s expression changed from shock to anger.  “But, you were my friend!  You married my sister!  Named me your child’s godfather.  Was this all a deception?”

“Yes.  Our undercover forces have been in place on this planet for ten years, slowly performing our tasks of subversion.”  Kotou paused to smirk.  It made him look demonic.  “As for your sister, she wasn’t too bad when it came to sex.  I may keep her as my slave once Pollus becomes a DK satellite.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Kotou, but I’m curious.  Firstly, I thought Infiltrators were regarded as obsolete troops, especially with Slashers now in your ranks.  And second, what do you plan to do with us?” Ryvvius asked.

Kotou glared at Ryvvius.  “We still have our uses, Golden Millennium trash.  I should kill you here and now, just because it would make me feel good.  But I’ll keep you alive and torture you for information.”

The Cygnian sighed.  “I figured you’d say that.  To put it succinctly, that’s a bad idea.”

“I beg to differ.  After all, your ship cannot reach us down here.”

Ryvvius, feeling a mild vibration from his wrist communicator, surprised Kotou by breaking out in a small, but sly grin.  “You’d be surprised.  Hit the deck, Lieutenant!  Face down!”

Kotou and his puzzled cohorts weren’t at all prepared for what happened next, as two round black globes came through one of the windows.  Miriele flung herself to the floor while Ryvvius tackled Ursola.  Having rolled to the feet of the Infiltrators, the globes suddenly exploded in flashes of blinding light accompanied by a loud bang.

Disoriented from the light and sound, Kotou and his men were startled as Ensign McDowell, his men, and Ensign LeClerc stormed through the windows on both sides, firing their weapons at the heads of the DK soldiers, who screamed from pain and crumpled to the floor.  Seconds later, all was quiet.

“All clear!” McDowell shouted, holding up a fist.  “Hostiles down!”

Ursola was wide eyed from shock at what happened.  “Are they… are they dead?”

“Dead as doornails.  Full power heavy stun bursts at point blank range.  In tight quarters, heavy stun head shots can kill by inducing blunt force trauma,” McDowell calmly replied.  “Even Infiltrators can’t stand up to that tactic.  Standard RSN operating procedures for close quarters combat.  It also keeps things neat, no splattering of guts or friendlies getting caught in a crossfire.”

As McDowell spoke, two of his detail went over to the crumpled Infiltrators and double-checked to make sure they were, indeed, deceased; one fired a second shot into the skull of the motionless Kotou, whose body twitched one final time and then went still.

“That’s mighty considerate of you, Ensign,” Ryvvius said to McDowell as he stood, a look of mock annoyance on his face.  “But you were late.  I positively abhor tardiness from crewmen under my command.”

McDowell, smirking, played along with his superior.  “With all due respect, Commander, you try sneaking out of that palace without being seen, then trudge through underground tunnels in bulky, Class-A body armor, and see how fast you get around.”

“I’ll second that.  And I wasn’t wearing armor,” said a winded LeClerc, hefting a blaster.

“But, how did the security detail find us?” a puzzled Miriele asked as she climbed to her feet.

Grinning, Ryvvius held up his communicator.  “Homing circuit.  I activated it before we were taken from the Royal Hall.  All the Ensign and his men had to do was follow the signal. Discreetly, of course.”

“Of course.  Thank you ever so much for the advance warning, sir,” an irate Miriele growled, shooting Ryvvius a harsh stare.  Her hands shook as she dusted herself off.

“And ruin the surprise?  Good heavens, where’s the fun in that?” Ryvvius said to the Vegan girl with a chuckle.  Then his expression turned serious as he stared at Ursola.  “I have to say, this was quite a meticulous infiltration, Mr. Ursola.  Clearly the situation here has deteriorated in ways even we couldn’t have anticipated.”

“Sir, I strongly recommend we haul our asses out of here.  That ruckus is sure to draw a crowd.  And Kotou might have reinforcements nearby,” McDowell pointed out.

“Recommendation noted, Ensign.  I intend to comply.  We can’t return to the palace.  It could be watched.  And we’ll have to run silent in case our comms are being monitored, which means we can’t warn Sailor Siryn about this situation.” Ryvvius then turned to Ursola. “Mr. Ursola, is there someplace we can hide for the time being?  A place the late, unlamented Kotou doesn’t know about?”

“Yes, there is.  A favorite place my wife and I visit on vacation.”  Then a look of desperate hope came into his eyes.  “Does this mean that you intend to help us?”

“Most definitely.  Kotou made up my mind on that score,” a grim faced Ryvvius replied.  “It’s clear the enemy’s already entrenched on Pollus.  We have no choice but to fight back!”

Royal Hall 

“Gabrielle.”

An insistent voice slowly forced its way through the haze surrounding Ventura’s senses; it was clear and crisp, the clarion call of a symphony… soothing yet annoying at the same time.

“Can you hear me?”

She was conscious, as her senses cleared and some semblance of awareness returned, of pain, throbbing, in her jaw.  A warm, salty taste, with a metallic tang, was in her mouth.

Blood.

The black woman groaned slightly, and wearily blinked.  She was on the floor in the council chamber… her head in Sailor Siryn’s lap.  She blinked, astonished, and managed not to smile; it felt good.

“Gabrielle?  Are you okay?” Sailor Siryn asked, a note of concern in her voice.

“I believe so,” Ventura muttered.  She slowly sat up, shaking her head to clear the last remnants of haziness from her mind.  She gently touched her jaw, rage setting in as she remembered what happened to her.  “But, so help me, if that cocksucker bruised my face, I’ll kill him!”

Sailor Siryn smiled slightly.  “Can you stand?”

“Yes,” the ebony woman replied; both women got to their feet.

Sailor Siryn turned, her expression hardening.  “Now, Kodos, what the hell do you think you’re doing?  Why are your soldiers pointing weapons at us, not to mention your own military and religious leaders?  I demand that you explain your actions at once!”

Kodos angrily scowled.  “That’s Praetor Kodos to you!  And I should think the why is fairly obvious, Senshi!  I’m done talking, especially to the likes of you.  I will resolve the chaos on this planet; by eliminating the top military and church leaders, I can then bring the military to heel with one of my own men in control, and the church will be outlawed, anyway, so we have no need of them whatsoever!”

He stood, his scowl turning into a smirk.  “I have the added benefit of knowing that you people will have no choice but to allow this to happen; you and your landing party will be my hostages, preventing Andromeda from interfering until I have full control.  A foolproof plan.”

“Oh, really,” snarled Sailor Siryn, eyes narrowing.  “Do you seriously think we’ll simply stand by and let this happen?”

“You have no choice,” Kodos snorted.

“So much for diplomacy,” Sailor Siryn retorted, rage suffusing her features.  “I’ve had it up to here with you Pollusians and your egotistical, self-inflated superiority complex!  I’m done being polite when all I’m getting are lies and betrayal!”  Her fury rose to a fever pitch; it showed on her face, her expression feral.

“Oh, really-“ began Kodos, to be abruptly cut off as Sailor Siryn finally lost her temper.

“And this is why I’m called Siryn!” she snarled, before opening her mouth wide, and chaos ensued.  A super-high-pitched blast of pure sound energy burst from her mouth, and slammed, hard, into Kodos, blowing him backwards.  Ventura clapped her hands over her ears and instinctively ducked as Sailor Siryn spun, pointing her deadly sonic scream in a three hundred sixty degree spin; everyone standing was bowled over and flung backwards against the chamber walls.  The marble cracked, the desks splintered, and every window blew out, raining lethal debris all around.  Everyone in the chamber writhed in intense pain as the pure sound brutally ripped into them; quite a few suffered from ruptured eardrums, blood trickling out from their ears; most also suffered cuts and gashes from flying shards of glass.

Sailor Siryn abruptly closed her mouth, ceasing her attack, noting that only the one called Austrum didn’t seem all that affected.

A welcome silence fell, and slowly began to be punctuated by groans and grunts.  Still, for long moments, nobody moved.  Most were still in shock; all had a sense of horrified disbelief that a human woman was capable of such a display of vicious and unadulterated power.

And that only some last vestige of self-control had prevented the Senshi from killing them all.

For her own part, Ventura’s first thought was incredulous disbelief at the devastation Sailor Siryn had caused in a matter of seconds with her scream.  Her second was that though her ears were still ringing, she was grateful the full effects hadn’t been directed at her.

Her third was that she must look really stupid with her mouth hanging open.  She promptly remedied that.

Sailor Siryn suddenly moved.  In under a second, she had Kodos by the throat, and hoisted him in the air, further surprising everyone in the chamber that the shorter human female was strong enough to pick a Pollusian up with no sign of visible strain.  She threw him to the floor like a sack of potatoes, knocking the wind out of Kodos, and knelt over him, gritting her teeth and grabbing his suit lapels, one knee on his chest.

“All right, asshole, you have about five seconds to tell me everything you have planned, or my next scream reduces you to a puddle of goo,” she snarled.  To demonstrate her intent, Sailor Siryn opened her mouth and tensed her vocal cords to unleash her power.

“Sailor Siryn!  Stop!” snapped Ventura, galvanized into action.  “Talking could still resolve this!”

“Are you serious?  Counselor, look around!” snapped Sailor Siryn, her eyes still boring in on Kodos.

“Oh, I think I’m fully aware of the situation, Sailor Siryn.  Brute force will get you nothing further than enmity from this point on; diplomacy can still work to salvage the situation. Especially since you’re seconds away from committing murder, which is something no Royal Star Navy officer should even consider; nor should a Senshi abuse her powers to endanger innocents to achieve her goals,” Ventura said, carefully choosing her words.

“You really think that applies to this scum?” growled Sailor Siryn, still focused on Kodos.

Ventura clenched her fists and approached Sailor Siryn; her heart was beating like a jackhammer, knowing the awful risk she was taking by directly confronting the maddened Senshi; but she was rapidly growing far too angry to care.  “Damn it all, Fiona!  Would you calm down and act like a starship captain and an adult, instead of a fucking violent maniac!”

The curse and implication sunk in and cut through Sailor Siryn’s rage like reason had not.  She blinked, spared one final, contempt- and menace-filled glare at a trembling, deathly afraid Kodos, and then dropped him, stepping away, looking down, chest heaving as she took deep breaths and attempted to regain control of herself.  For long moments, all was quiet.

“Sailor Siryn?” Ventura asked quietly, unclenching her fists as she relaxed slightly.  She secretly hoped the Senshi was too distracted from anger to notice the black woman had called her captain by her real name.

“I’m… better,” Sailor Siryn replied softly.  She looked up, flushed with shame; a lopsided, sheepish grin appeared on her lips.  “Thank you, Counselor.  I really needed that, needed someone to talk me down, put me back on the straight and narrow with a much needed verbal foot up my silly Irish ass.”

Ventura relaxed further, a flush of warmth infusing her.  This Senshi was genuinely starting to grow on her.  She smiled, genuine, friendly.  “My pleasure, Sailor Siryn, though I was simply doing my job as a diplomat.”

Sailor Siryn nodded, and her smiled melted away as she coolly turned back to Kodos, who hadn’t moved.  “Now, Kodos, let us discuss the schemes you have up your sleeve.”

“And I should tell you, why?” Kodos summoned up some bravado.

Sailor Siryn smiled sweetly.  “Because so few others can even hear my queries, and those that can probably don’t know anything.  That kind of sound does wreak havoc with the ears, does it not?”

Kodos gulped, fully grasping the hidden innuendo in Sailor Siryn’s statements.  “Uh…” he sighed, and closed his eyes.  “Plans are already underway for Council-supported elimination of the church and takeover of the military, specifically from Drocargh…” Kodos paused, his expression hardening.  “A true traitor to the Pollusian people, and myself.”

Sailor Siryn and Ventura shared a questioning glance; Sailor Siryn turned.  “Care to explain that one, Drocargh?” she asked coolly.

“Not really,” replied the Pollusian General, his face an expressionless mask.  Both women continued to glare at him, and he caved.  “Kodos… is my elder brother.  He… installed me in the upper echelon of the military, to guarantee Council control of the military, but once there, I saw what his real agenda was and could no longer cooperate with him.”

Sailor Siryn let out a short laugh, and Ventura grinned wryly.  

“And who says Lunarians have the monopoly on nepotism?” Ventura said, shaking her head.

Drocargh stood, as did Zhitenn.  “Sailor Siryn, you’re aware of the situation, now; I must ask, will you assist us against the council’s immoral actions?” Drocargh asked.

Zhitenn nodded agreement.  “You must help us; this persecution is abominable, and ungodly; and the church can do little to stop it!”

Sailor Siryn slowly looked around.  “One moment, gentlemen,” she said aloud, mentally adding:  and I use the term loosely.  She raised her wrist, activating her communicator.  “Sailor Siryn to Commander Ryvvius, come in, please.”  She waited briefly.  “Commander Ryvvius, respond now!”  She frowned.  “Ensign McDowell, this is Sailor Siryn, do you copy?”  She waited another moment.  “What the hell?” she whispered.

“I suggest we locate them, quickly, Sailor Siryn,” Ventura broke in.  “Also, we must lend assistance, not because of anyone in here, but because of the innocents out there.  If widespread violence breaks out, innocents will be caught in the crossfire.”

Sailor Siryn nodded.  “I agree. That can’t be allowed to happen.”

“And what about the spy on the Council?” Drocargh asked pointedly.

Sailor Siryn narrowed her eyes.  “I know who it is.”  She turned, and glared at Austrum.  “How long have you been spying on the Council?  Who is collaborating with you?”

“I don’t know what you are playing at,” Austrum glared hatefully back.

“Oh, I think you do,” Sailor Siryn said icily.  “Only certain Dark Kingdom troops have the ability to resist the power of a Senshi, namely Slashers and Infiltrators; and you certainly don’t appear to be a Slasher.”

“Damn GM Senshi trash… too fucking smart for your own fucking good,” growled Austrum, as he stood.  “I’ll be damned if I tell you how long, and who- if any- have been collaborating with me, inadvertently or not.”

“So you admit it,” Sailor Siryn said with satisfaction.

“Yes, I admit it…” snarled Austrum, muscles rippling.  Austrum’s clothes burst, and tough gray hide was revealed as he changed into a larger-than-normal, four-armed Infiltrator.  Massively muscled, with razor-sharp fangs, he opened his mouth in a feral grin, amidst the shocked looks of every other Pollusian in the wrecked chamber.  “And you are now going to die.”

In standard orbit over Pollus 4, 14 March 2740

Amidst the harsh red glare of the alert klaxon lights, Gambler scowled, pausing briefly in his final pilot’s check. 

“I don’t like this,” he muttered to himself.  “Stupid bastards, ready to throw their lives away over some silly code of honor, over misplaced loyalty.”  He frowned at the blaster array he was checking.  “This is crazy,” he whispered.  He shook his head, and finished his preflight.  He locked his helmet into place before climbing into his cockpit.  He plugged his environmental suit into the auxiliary power and life-support hookups, and took a deep breath of purified oxygen.  He proceeded with power-up, and concluded by checking his displays to make sure everything read properly.

He was nothing if not thorough.

That done, he triggered his comm switch.  “Flight Control, Gambler; fighter condition green and is on hot standby for launch.”

“Flight Control, aye,” came the reply from Swift, of the Seraph Knights.  There hadn’t been time to find a replacement flier to bring the Knights up to eight full fliers, and there wasn’t an extra Battlewing to put a pilot in, anyway.  Raptor and Fullmetal had been firmly against anyone else flying Sailor Eldrea’s fighter, the only TPA-equipped fighter on the ship, so it had simply been decided to rotate the extra fighter pilot through Flight Control, to bring an experienced, fighter pilot perspective to that post.  They’d randomly determined the rotation; Swift had been selected first.  The Seraph Knights had taken it well, Gambler reflected.  None of them wanted to be removed from the action for a second, losing the chance to score kills, but in the end their professionalism had won out.

Gambler listened in as the other thirty-seven pilots repeated the comm check.  Once all pre-launch preparations were completed, Swift came back on over all the fighter’s comm systems. “Flight Control to all fighters, stand by.  Confirming status with the bridge.”

Sailor Eldrea whipped around, and quickly strode to the big chair.  “Doc, you’d best get to sickbay.  It’s getting serious.  And… thanks.”

“My pleasure.  Good luck, captain.”  Doc Ellie quickly turned and strode into the nearest lift.

Sailor Eldrea frowned as she turned back, momentarily glad she’d transformed before they’d even hit orbit; she might need it now.  “Khatari, spin everything else up and prepare to fire.  Rostov, stay in front of the two destroyers, keep our nose to the Pollusians as much as possible.”

Khatari spoke up.  “It’s highly likely they’ll attempt to flank us, Captain.”

“I know,” Sailor Eldrea said coolly.  “And that our stern is our weak point; I think I proved that during the drill.  So, here’s how we deal with that.  Khatari, co-ordinate with Flight Control; have Gambler get the Panzers to take up station around our stern, and they can feel free to download on anything that gets too close.  Exact dispositions are, of course, up to Gambler.”

Khatari nodded and set to work as Sailor Eldrea spun.  “Kwan, make sure those two destroyers know they’re not allowed to do a damn thing!  Clayton, keep a close eye on them.  Setar, monitor and advise.”

She crossed her arms and eyed the screens.  The formation of the Pollusian destroyers slowly spread out.

“We don’t fire until fired upon,” she reminded the bridge.  “Stand by, everybody.”

Gambler listened to the reports Swift relayed to him; he nodded, admiring the tactics Sailor Eldrea was using.  “Right.  Latest reports show they’re indeed moving to flank Andromeda.  Marauders head to port; Nighthawks go to starboard.  Buccaneers and Knights, you’re free to engage the second we launch.  Panzers deploy around the stern; you’ll move and engage as directed by the bridge, to avoid being caught in any friendly fire.  Split into element pairs, and hide under the wings, near the RIFT grids, one pair per wing, at your discretion, Blitz.  Stay out of it until needed, you’ll be our reserve.”

“Jawohl, Commander,” came back the German’s terse response.

“Knights, primary targets are their sensor elements and weaponry; Buccaneers, target engines and ship bays; I want them blind and helpless.  I’d also prefer it if they didn’t launch their fighters at us.  If they do, ignore them as much as possible, we interceptors will deal with them.  Everybody got all that?”

A series of affirmatives answered him, followed by a brief silence.

“Waiting sucks,” commented Long John.

There was a snort, and then Falcon spoke up.  “Gambler, you do realize that if they do get their fighters off, we’ll be outnumbered big time in very short order?”

Gambler gave a short laugh.  “Does that bother you, Falcon?”

“Hell, no,” she replied.  “Just means that many more bogies to kill; shit, my panties are already soaked just thinking about that!”

In his cockpit, Raptor scowled at the homicidal note in her voice.  Though he had more kills than Falcon, bloodshed was not something he whole-heartedly embraced.  For him, it was his duty, and his job, and he happened to be good at it, despite occasional bouts of conscience.  All of the Knights were of a similar bent, cocky though they may be, and when they needed to, they talked it out amongst themselves.  They were professionals, and what Falcon was leaning toward went far beyond that professionalism.  He keyed his mike.  “You need to relax some, Falcon.  Some might think that you’re a fucking sick bitch, talkin’ like that.”

Falcon laughed.  “And they’re probably right.  I am a fucking sick bitch,” she agreed.  A few seconds of silence followed, and she came back on.  “Gambler, what the hell are we waiting for?”

Gambler sighed.  “We’re waiting for those poor bastards to shoot at us; Fullmetal’s going to make sure the record shows she did everything in her power to avoid the situation, and that she followed rules of engagement to the letter before we kick their sorry, arrogant asses.  Hold on a second.  Gambler to Bridge.”

“Go ahead, Gambler,” said Sailor Eldrea almost absentmindedly, carefully watching the displays.

“Should we launch in preparation for the attack, take up patrol stations?” Gambler asked.

“Against any other foe, and you’d already be out there, Gambler.  Hang on.”  She turned.  “You’re a marksman, right, Khatari?  Non-lethal targeting only!  Disable the enemies with precision fire against engines; you may use Ghost torpedoes at your discretion, and blasters at will; hold everything else in reserve.”

“Captain?” Khatari asked in surprise; his reaction was mirrored around the bridge, as heads turned fractionally, though Setar merely raised an eyebrow.  Sailor Eldrea’s earlier actions had led them all to believe they were about to annihilate the opposition; it was a startling reversal, to say the least.

“I do not want to slaughter them, though we so easily could,” the Senshi of Alchemy replied, her voice glacial.  “They are, after all, supposed to be on our side.  Disable them only, are we clear on that?”

Khatari scowled.  “But-“

“Are… we… clear, Khatari?” she snarled.  She didn’t wait for a response; her gaze swept the bridge, spearing everyone in turn.  “Does anybody have a problem with that?  Does anyone else want to question my orders?”

There was silence, even from the trigger-happy Khatari.

“Then hop to it,” she said brusquely.  She turned, and scowled.  One final try, Audra.  “Kwan, hail Kestrel."

“Channel open, ma’am,” Kwan stated promptly, if somewhat taken aback.

“This is your last chance, Commander.  The second you fire on us, we will retaliate with full force.  If you stand down now, there will be no unnecessary bloodshed.  You have not yet crossed the threshold; you can still back down.  Does your honor stand up to attacking those that are supposed to be your allies?  Is it truly asylum we’d be granting, since Pollus is, nominally, a protectorate member of the GM Alliance?  Under treaty stipulations, perhaps, but in the spirit of the act I rather think not,” Sailor Eldrea offered, as persuasively as possible.  She knew she’d just given him an opening, and silently hoped he’d take it.  “Is pride really worth all the carnage and death that will ensue?”

Kestrel’s reply was short and to the point.  “Our honor must be served, even if it costs the lives of all in this battle fleet.  I am ready to die for that purpose.”  The channel cut off with a beep.

Kestrel’s destroyer abruptly fired, the laser energy dissipating harmlessly over the Andromeda’s shields.

Sailor Eldrea sighed, and growled under her breath.  “Dammit.  Fucking dirtbag son of a bitch.  Thanks for nothing, asshole, pushing me into a fucking corner.”  She raised her voice.  “Bridge to Flight Control, launch launch launch!  Go get ‘em, pilots; tear ‘em a new one!  Khatari, show me those skills; fire at will!  Let’s also begin jamming, don’t let them get good scans of us!”

The remainder of the Pollusian destroyers opened fire, the laser energy causing a pretty display on the shields; fighters streamed from the destroyers.  Seconds later, the laser batteries shifted fire to the fighters now bursting forth from Andromeda’s shuttlebays, and their laser effectiveness was reduced further as the battleship activated its powerful active tactical ECM and ECCM systems, preventing accurate targeting, rendering intelligence-gathering scans virtually impossible, and even causing comm interference amongst the Pollusians.

The Pollusians triggered their heavy weaponry; each ship spat a series of crackling greenish orbs from under their noses; the orbs homed in and slammed on Andromeda, rocking the battlewagon.  Simultaneously, Khatari cut loose with a barrage of blaster fire, in all directions, from virtually every array; pinpoint hits blossomed in bursts of plasma and debris, and the Pollusians ceased fire to deploy their shielding as Andromeda’s fighters met the enemy in a blaze of blaster fire.

Gambler led the interceptors amidst several dozen explosions; the Pollusian fighter shielding was next to worthless against the superior GM fighters.  Both squadrons split their opponent’s formations, carving huge swaths through them that the Buccaneers and Seraph Knights took full advantage of, racing through the criss-crossing energy bursts, yellow mixed with prismatic, to charge the attacking destroyers.

Gambler split his Marauders into elements, and each element separated the Pollusian ranks further as the Pollusians attempted to follow the offending GM fighters, shocked though they were at the firepower their opponents were wielding.  Gambler’s elements arced around, in a star pattern, towards each other; and the situation quickly became a massacre as the elements tore into the followers of those elements they were heading towards.  Those facing Falcon’s fighters fared little better; she kept her wing close, in a staggered line, and they flew formation, obliterating the enemy fighters that dared close with virtual walls of blaster fire, intermixed with graviton waves that completely disrupted the Pollusian fighter ranks.

Meanwhile, one destroyer had come close enough to Andromeda’s stern and actually tried firing on the two destroyers that Andromeda was protecting; Blitz’s fighters burst from hiding and downloaded an intense mixture of Ghost torpedoes and blaster fire that caused that destroyer to spin about and back off, where it promptly became the first victim of the Buccaneers and Knights, its weapons falling dark and engines dropping offline, coupled with crackling energy waves from impact points expanding over the surface of the ship.  Streams of plasma issued forth from microfractures in the destroyer’s hull.

“The Pollusian’s heavy weaponry has been analyzed, Captain,” Setar spoke up on Andromeda’s bridge. “The orbs are spheres of compressed plasma, essentially miniaturized plasma torpedoes.  Individually, they do little damage to us; but in large salvoes they could be dangerous.”

“Thank you, Setar.  Khatari, let’s try to keep them on the defensive so they do not have the opportunity to fire,” Sailor Eldrea said.

“Aye, Captain,” Khatari growled, manipulating his controls.  The blaster fire frequency increased, so that a virtual storm of blaster fire streaked forth; but the damage of the individual beams was decreased.  However, coupled with the occasional Ghost torpedo, the beams were still effective; the Pollusians were being held at bay.

And then the pairs of the Knights and Buccaneers came swooping in from port, attacking in relays. Precision blaster fire blazed forth, and the Pollusians found themselves hard-pressed to raise an effective defense.  Comm traffic between the destroyers tripled; and following Kestrel’s lead, they began rotating shield frequencies, alternating with dropping and re-raising them, intermixing with prismatic beam fire and the occasional plasma orb that forced the fighters back; more of that weapons fire raced towards Andromeda. 

At first, Raptor found this odd, until he realized the advantage that the Pollusians did possess due to their interlinked systems-

Less power conduits meant one large conduit running through the core of the ship; it also meant-

“Shit!” Raptor called out.  “Every time they drop their shields and bring them back up, they recharge, almost all the way!  Same with rotating frequencies!  Keeping them on the defensive is prolonging this battle!  Flight Control, do you copy?”

“Roger!” Swift came back.  “Relaying now!”     

A massive salvo of plasma orbs was abruptly launched from every Pollusian destroyer.  They streaked in and slammed into the Andromeda’s shielding from all sides, detonating in a furious display of multi-colored energy.

“Report!” snapped Sailor Eldrea as the battlewagon shuddered; sparks burst from the bridge engineering console, with Cooper ducking away just in time.

“Shields layer one down to fifty-seven percent!” Khatari snarled.

A beep sounded over the bridge.  “Engineering to Bridge!  Several shield relays blown!  Power conduits damaged in main engineering; we have several minor coolant leaks that we’re trying to lock down!”

Kwan interrupted.  “Damage control teams responding; medical teams tending to minor injuries!”

Sailor Eldrea nodded as Andromeda shuddered again.  “Topper, are you able to handle it?”

“We’re taking a pounding, but we’ve got it covered… for the moment,” the chief engineer replied.

“Keep it that way, and keep me informed.  Bridge out.”  Sailor Eldrea turned.  “Setar, correct me if I’m wrong, but the reason they’re able to hurt us the way they are is that plasma weaponry, while usually less effective than our weapons, does have the effect of causing shockwaves through plasma-channeling systems… such as our cooling systems and feed returns.”

Setar nodded imperturbably.  “Such damage is often little more than a hindrance, though often brutal to a starship’s crew.  Shield relays and the like are designed to be the weak points, easy to repair and first to fail.  The systems most affected will still operate, even if it is at a reduced efficiency and effectiveness; at least until they overheat.”

“Isn’t there a set of shield frequencies that is more effective against such weapons?” Sailor Eldrea asked calmly as the Andromeda shuddered again, sparks raining down from overhead as the lighting flickered.

Setar again nodded.  “The lower bands, though I must point out their lasers may actually be able to affect us at those frequencies.”

“Ah, but that’s the beauty of it; they haven’t even tried shooting at us with the lasers since the first few salvoes proved ineffective; and we ourselves, with superior sensors, have a difficult time telling if a ship has changed shield harmonics.  We’re also jamming them, fairly effectively, by the looks of it.  Besides, that plasma will hurt us more than the lasers,” Sailor Eldrea replied.

“I concur, captain,” Setar said.  Khatari grunted in agreement.

“Khatari, shift shield frequencies now!” Sailor Eldrea ordered.  She turned and glanced at the screens.  “Setar, what of Flight Control’s report?” 

The screens showed views of the fighters re-engaging, preventing the Pollusians from launching further full salvoes.  Virtually no Pollusian fighters remained; Gambler was dispatching the last few even as Sailor Eldrea watched.

“I have confirmed Raptor’s observations; the Pollusian inter-connected systems do indeed grant them that rejuvenating advantage,” Setar replied.

Sailor Eldrea rubbed her chin for the moment.  “Khatari, change targeting parameters; synchronize blasters to fire only when the Pollusians lower their shields; and your sole target is now the shield generators.  Interconnected or not, if the generators are taken out, they can’t raise shields at all.  Kwan, coordinate with Flight Control; let’s end this.”

“Aye, ma’am!” both officers moved quickly.

The shift in tactics quickly became a resounding success.  The fighters kept the Pollusians distracted, and the second the ships dropped their shields, blaster fire from Andromeda ripped into them, obliterating targeted shield grids in a series of precise, directed explosions.  The Buccaneers and Knights then tore into the offending systems until all weapons had been destroyed, and all engine grids and thruster groups darkened or damaged.  The Buccaneers no longer worried about shuttle or fighter bays, since no more fighters existed to annoy them; and the Knights found dispatching the sensors aboard each ship an easy afterthought to taking down the hardened weaponry.  Finally, no blaster fire tore across space; the fighters formed up and orbited Andromeda, awaiting the next move.

On the bridge, Sailor Eldrea allowed herself a small smile, wishing Sailor Siryn was able to see how the crew had learned from their mistakes in that last drill, a scant six hours earlier; the little damage the battleship had taken was already repaired, and injuries tended to, and every flank covered by fighters, none of which had suffered more than light shock damage.  A thrill of pleasure and pride at being able to work with this crew filled her; along with a sense of honor at being lucky enough to command them.

“Khatari, excellent work,” she smiled.  “All of you performed very well.”  She surveyed the bridge, allowing her smile to be seen.  She then focused on the screens.  “Status of the Pollusian destroyers?”

“All have been heavily damaged, but sensors show minimal casualties.  Weaponry and shielding completely destroyed on all six targets, engines damaged to various degrees,” Khatari replied.  “Most of the destroyers completely blinded, with all sensor elements destroyed.  Kestrel’s destroyer looks to be regaining sensor capability any minute, however… for what good it will do him; our jamming has proven extremely effective.  About the only thing he’ll regain is visual capability.”

“Their comm systems?” Sailor Eldrea inquired.

“All functional.  Oddly, they have not yet communicated with the surface, or the rest of their fleet, regarding this battle or the asylum-seeking ships,” Setar responded.  He cocked his head.  “I am curious, captain.  Why not jam their communications during battle?”

“Obsession, perhaps, not talking to his high command?  Maybe he’s even more self-confident than the average Pollusian,” Sailor Eldrea opinioned.   She shook her head.  “Doesn’t matter at the moment.  To answer your question, Setar, it was both to keep some of our capabilities in reserve, and to show good intent, along with the disabling tactics; and that is the reason we’re not going to jam their communications now.  Kwan, hail Kestrel.”

"Screen one, ma’am,” Kwan promptly replied.

“Commander, surely you can see the futility of continuing this course of action,” Sailor Eldrea said, politely and respectfully.  “I have no wish to destroy you, as you can see.  Your battle group is disabled, completely, and though some have died, I do not wish to kill any more than have already perished.  Please, I beg you, surrender and end this; we will be very favorable to the terms of such a surrender, I promise you.”

Kestrel looked up, a crazed look in his eyes.  “Never,” he snarled, voice low and filled with rage.  “We will never surrender.  You have not won!”  He turned to someone off-screen.  “Ram them!  Overload the core and ram them now!”

Sailor Eldrea whirled.  “Setar?”

The Vulcan’s eyebrows rose in unpleasant surprise.  “Captain, he apparently shut his engines off to prevent their destruction; they are coming online now at full power, and no fighter, nor ourselves, are in a position to disable them!”

Sailor Eldrea spun back as Kestrel’s manically laughing image blinked off, replaced by a view of his destroyer, now backlit by a brilliant surge of whitish energy, charging right at the Andromeda.

“Oh, hell,” she breathed.

TO BE CONTINUED...