Barbarians

Watch the end through dying eyes

Now the dark is taking over

Show me where forever dies

Take the fall and run to Heaven

All is lost again

But I'm not giving in

I will not bow

I will not break

I will shut the world away

I will not fall

I will not fade

I will take your breath away

Breaking Benjamin - “I Will Not Bow”

“So how does this new information affect Operation Phalange?” Admiral Matevosian asked his superior.

“We’re still evaluating that,” Hélène replied. “Learning the so-called ‘Masters’ are just evil Ronin on steroids...” she said, throwing up her hands.

“With a real taste for genocide, from what I’ve read,” her subordinate agreed. “We’ve already seen just how hard our Ronin are to take down when they were infected. I suspect the other variant will be even worse.”

“At the very least, it’s in our best interests to assume the worst where planning is concerned.” Fujimoto nodded. “And given the situation, consider this your warning order. I’m giving overall command of Phalange to you.” She fixed him with a hard stare. “Make it work.”

To his credit, Matevosian seemed unperturbed by this revelation. “I was wondering about that,” he admitted. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” the Marshal nodded. “Given the operation and its scope, it has to be you. Expect to see your official orders appearing through channels before the day is out.”

He took a few moments to process that. “In that case...I’ve been looking over the addendum to the operation, and I think our best chance of success is the Delta variant.”

Hélène frowned for a moment, pulling up the operation from her own database and scanning the section he was referring to before shaking her head. “Have you any idea the logistical support Delta will require?”

“I do,” he nodded. “Marshal, we have one chance to pull this off. One. We won’t get a second opportunity. Unless we use every asset at our disposal, we’ll have no one to blame the plan’s failure on but ourselves.”

She regarded him for a moment before giving a nod of assent. “Very well. But that doesn’t mean I can give you additional time to pull it off.”

“So...same as always then,” he said.

Commander Xeemvois and General Nassat looked over the plans one last time and nodded in agreement. “I suspect there are still ways in which we could improve it,” the Ophipteran said, “it is just that I cannot imagine how.

“Nor I,” Nassat agreed. “While I applaud the courage of Typhon’s captain and crew, repeating their death ride here did not strike me as the best use of resources. The alternative we have come up with should be much more effective, not to mention safer for all concerned.”

The long-awaited supply of nanomachines had arrived at Θ18, and everyone involved wanted to deploy them as soon as possible. But once they examined the After-Action reports from Σ10, both Xeemvois and Nassat were convinced there had to be a better way. The Tetrarchy had few enough ships as it was...risking any more of them was deemed unacceptable.

So they gathered together Chiron’s department heads and got to work, looking for that “Better Way”.

Once again it was the humans who came to the rescue, with an idea from human history. They needed to disperse the nanomachines over as wide an area as possible without risking the lives of Chiron’s crew. It was an unusual requirement, factoring in the hostility of the infected Ronin, and there seemed to be no simple solution...until a human tactical officer showed the General and Commander imagery of an old-style Cluster Bomb.

It was a routine task of fabrication to construct the hollow shells needed to house the nanomachines, and then fit them with simple guidance controls, a parachute, and a small explosive charge. Once that was completed, they programmed the location they wanted the Nano-bomb to detonate, and plotted the required orbit.

With the prep work completed, all that was required now was to fly the mission profile and kick the bombs out the airlocks.

Nassat bowed to his Ophipteran counterpart. “It was your crew that came up with the solution and prepared the nanomachines for deployment. It is therefore only fitting for you to give the order.”

Xeemvois inclined his head in gratitude, before turning to his helmsman. “Lieutenant...you may begin your run.”

“Aye aye sir,” the junior officer replied, settling into the Polar Orbit denied to the crew of Typhon. The new design allowed Chiron to remain in a much higher orbit, far above the ground-based launchers the infected Ronin kept cobbling together. The Helmsman locked the pre-programmed course into the system and let the computer take it from there, monitoring in case of emergency.

In a handful of days, the undertaking had gone from dangerous to almost routine. Such is progress.

Far from the command deck, down in the cargo sections, the loadmasters were already at work, cramming pallets full of Nano-bombs from the holds into the pressurized access ports for deployment. It was hard work even with the technological assists, and yet for many, it was a labor of love. Considering how close they’d come to implementing Operation Blackout, anything short of that was a welcome exercise.

It took many long hours to deploy the nanomachines, but the rewards were cause for celebration. Just as Typhon rejoiced in the rebirth of Σ10, so too were the crew of Chiron able to share in the triumph of Θ18’s reawakening. Xeemvois and Nassat monitored their progress, plotting each new communication from the surface as they made their run until their eyes met in weary elation.

“...we did it,” the Ophipteran whispered. “Until this very moment, I was unsure if it were even possible. But now…” He turned away, overcome with emotion.

Nassat managed a battered smile. “We did,” he concurred, “and now that we have rescued our Ronin brethren...it is time to deal with their long-lost kin.”

Tango eyed her pupils, sizing them both up. The young Saurotaur pair had done well, all things considered, but there was still one question in her mind that needed answering...one hurdle the twins had yet to cross, before even considering advancing their training.

It was time to find out if they truly had what it takes.

Reaching into a case, she withdrew a pair of matched knives, flipping both in her hands as she presented them pommel-first to her students. Taichist and Chechla held them gingerly, as these were no blunt training weapons...but double-edged daggers honed to razor sharpness.

“Today’s exercise is simple,” she told them, removing another blade from the case, “all you have to do...is survive.”

The twins shared a nervous look. “We do not wish to hurt you, Tango,” Taichist said.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she answered, “you won’t.” She gripped the knife by the business end, and in a sudden blur of motion, hurled it at a target on the far side of the compartment. It sunk deep, quivering, as she turned back towards the young aliens.

“...because you won’t be facing me,” she continued, “you’ll be facing him.” Tango pointed back at the target...as Whisper stepped out from the shadows, pulling the dagger free and grinning as he tossed the blade from one hand to the other.

Chechla swallowed with an audible gulp. “...him?” she said in a tiny voice.

“Him,” she confirmed. “If you can’t stand your ground here, then you will never be ready.” She paused for a moment, letting that reality sink in, and then said gently. “Or...you can set those blades down and walk away. There’s no shame in admitting you’re not cut out for this. Very few are.”

The twins shared another look, and Tango could only guess at the silent communication passing between them. When they turned back to her, their decision was obvious. “All right then,” she nodded, standing aside, “...begin.”

The twins were hesitant, but Whisper was anything but. He advanced on the young Saurotaurs with glee, capering about as his dagger flashed in the light, closing the distance between them. They stood on the defensive, gripping their own daggers as the mad human closed in on them. Taichist stepped out in front of his sister, blocking Whisper’s path with his body as he held out his blade with an extended arm, hoping to ward him off.

Whisper chortled with delight as he zeroed in on the Saurotaur male. In a move that looked like some bizarre pirouette, he leapt into the air, spinning, his foot snaking out to kick the knife out of his hand. It landed on the deck, skittering away, as Taichist shrank back...while Whisper closed in for the kill.

With a shriek worthy of a banshee Chechla charged forward, determined to save her brother, her knife reaching out to strike. Whisper whirled to face this new threat, his own blade lashing out against her, leaving a thin trail of blood down her arm. She pulled away in reflex, clutching her wounded arm as the knife fell to the floor. With both disarmed Whisper laughed in triumph, as he advanced on Chechla to finish the job.

He never got the chance.

In a move that surprised everyone, Taichist spun about and kicked with both hind legs, slamming his hooves into Whisper hard enough to send him flying. He landed in a heap several feet away as the twins retrieved their blades, standing shoulder to shoulder in grim resolution.

Whisper rose to his feet, his eyes dark and unreadable. He picked up his own dagger, regarding them both...and then bent forward, gracing them with a sweeping bow as he chuckled.

“...that’s all for today,” Tango said from the sidelines, as she moved to rejoin them, taking back the blades. She glanced at Chechla’s wounded arm. “Have that looked at...and then report back here tomorrow. Early.”

The pair just nodded, still somewhat dazed by the brief bout. “Get some rest,” she continued, “because tomorrow?”

“The training wheels come off.”