It was late in the evening when the Rainbow Dash arrived on station at Ponipolous. Its fighter screen had preceded it, yet the strange Akira had proven to be a passive recipient.

The two ships had incompatible docking ports, so the carrier had to resort to sending a shuttle capable of extending a soft umbilical.

As that very umbilical was locking into place, Wiggly and the others were a tight bundle of nerves. For the mare, her torment was the rough state of her ship. Loose debris had been cleaned up, and the hallways were navigable again, but many of the deeper issues remained from the battle. Between her and the eight mechan, battle repair and the five years of missing overhaul backlog, the engineer was barely keeping her head above water. She might have ended up an exhausted wreck were it not for the others’ support. That did little for the heavily grease stained and torn yellow coveralls she was wearing however.

Live Wire was rather annoyed by the pad he was using to keep an eye on both dinner and the final set up of umbilical. So used to mental controls, having to magically swipe or enter commands was grating. Like his sister though, he was dressed in a fine shirt and pair of pants he had scavenged from the station, his apron being freshly torn away.

That left the nervous pair of aliens who awaited their fate at the hooves of the naval captain. So it was that when the wall lights went blue, both of them snapped to attention.

Wiggly tried to do a last-minute comb of her mane with a wing, while Live Wire dusted himself off, trying to rid himself of that ‘kitchen’ smell.

The hatch yawned open, and the air pressure equalized with a mechanical hiss. With heavy hoof falls, the navy blue unicorn captain boldly stepped forward, leading his pegasus marine escort of two. His amber eyes locked with Wiggly’s tired own, and he came to a halt just in front of the door. A pleased uptick on his lips followed catching sight of the freshly painted tri-mare flag of the Initiative on the ceiling. “Permission to come aboard, Captain Wiggly Sprocket.”

The tired engineer was a bit flustered at the unexpected etiquette, and sheepishly waved him onward. “P-please do, ah, Captain. I’m honored by your visit.”

Taking just enough steps for his escorts to fully enter the ship, Howling Tempest was caught off guard when he found himself under gravity. He stumbled a little, then scrutinized the four gathered around him, then up to the ceiling to find no repulsors. He tactfully adjusted his stance to compose himself, all while waving the marines forward so they could do the same. “So this truly is an alien vessel.” He squared his gaze on Wiggly. “Were you posing as the captain, or should I look to them?”

Shuffling nervously on her hooves, Sprocket waggled a wing at the cathrex. “No, no, they agreed to name me the captain. They’re the only two survivors of the original crew.” She looked at them fully. “May I introduce Captain Howling Tempest of the INV Rainbow Dash, hero of Trireme, and the one who saved my brother and I’s tail that day.”

The hybrid bowed with one arm across his stomach. “I am the ship’s gravatior, Medica Morales. A pleasure to meet you, savior of a friend.”

The robot curtsied with the emerald dress she wore. She wore the friendliest face she could manage, and carried herself with casual poise. “Salutations. I am Silent Carillon, or Mote if you like. I am the Akira’s personified intelligence. I serve as final witness and counselor. As for what we are, we are cathrex hailing from the Cathrex Combine nestled in what you call Luna’s right wing.”

Tempest dipped his head. “Were these better times, I would insist on hosting such exotic guests aboard the shipyard, or at least my ship.”

“Oh please don’t,” Live Wire began with nervous energy. “I made bacon-wrapped pesto pork tenderloin, and I’m desperate for somepony with a more discerning palette. My sister eats anything I make, and Morales here claims I can do no wrong. An artist can’t grow if all I hear is success.” And I think Mote is too polite to give honest criticism.

“At least one of us suffers from success.” Wiggly felt aches and pains all over from her feverish repair efforts. Sitting down rather than going aboard the Rainbow Dash, Sprocket wanted to just take some time to relax, but in her eyes, Howling Tempest deserved the best she could offer.

A quiet, amused hum escaped the carrier captain. “I am in the mood for pork actually. Very well, but before we dine, where is my lieutenant?”

“You didn’t tell him?” Live Wire began, only to quickly hold his tongue.

“I’ve been swamped with work, alright?” Wiggly glared at her brother, then softened her expression towards Tempest. “Winter Gale was badly wounded by the ship that attacked us. She’s in critical but stable condition.”

Howling Tempest noticed how her wing fingers were abnormally thick for a pegacorn, and that’s when it clicked that the stallion’s eye had been replaced by what seemed to be a natural one. “Yes, I saw the battle, you took a couple of nasty hits. Naturally I’ll take her off your hooves. My doctor is the best in the navy.”

Morales took a step forward, and presented a tablet. “I have here a complete summary of her treatment and present condition. The cause of her injuries is not something to be shared over food, so if it pleases you, I would prefer to disclose that issue now.”

The lack of an immediate acquiescence to his request put Tempest on edge. Claiming the tablet in his amber magic, he found it had two folders, one labeled ‘Winter’, and the other ‘after action report’. “I’m listening.”

Matching the tablet’s explanation, Morales laid out the simple version of the effects of fuhai from its source to how it attacked cyborgs. Throughout the explanation, the tablet revealed multiple pictures of cathrex victims as well as Winter and Live Wire pre-surgery. All three naval sailors grew queasy at various rates. Tempest had to stop himself from rubbing his false right leg as he lingered the post-surgery images of Winter and Wire. “I must stress,” Morales finished with professional firmness. “That my patient can’t be moved if she is to heal correctly. I mean no offense, but I don’t believe you have compatible facilities for the current treatment.”

Grumbling in disapproval, Tempest looked to Live Wire. Of them all, he expected the closest thing to the truth out of him. “Do you agree with that assessment?”

Thinking it over for a few moments, Live Wire eventually gave a firm nod. “I do.” He averted his gaze in unfounded shame. “I can’t say the recovery procedure was something I would have agreed to, but I was in so much pain from the attack that I was barely conscious before they pulled me out of the CIC. Winter had it worse by far given how much more chrome she had.”

Tempest tightened his jaw in disapproval. “This attack you suffered…” How can you be so sure your ‘friends’ here didn’t cause it? “Was there no warning at all it was about to happen?”

Shaking his head, Wire went on, “All I got was a sensor alert that a ship appeared. Couldn’t even identify it before I got jacked up.”

Tempest nodded, as if accepting the explanation. Inwardly, he was suspicious. You have a pretty good recollection for somepony who was in enough pain to go into shock moments later. Almost as if you rehearsed it, or an implanted memory. Tempest sighed in resignation. “Very well, I’ll leave her in your capable care, Medica. Wiggly Sprocket, I must say I preferred your last visit. As much as it pains me, I fear I’ll have to leave Winter in your care. What has been done with her implants?”

Wiggly Sprocket nodded with restless energy. “They’ve been packaged and cleaned up. With the fuhai, I don’t know how valuable they’ll be for much longer, but they’re yours to take of course. Navy secrets and all.”

Much longer? That deepened Tempest’s unease. She really believes in this ‘fuhai’ business, or has been tricked into it. Her altered wings flashed in his mind. Or worse. “Naturally it’ll be inventoried. Unless there is some other unpleasantness along similar veins, let’s continue over dinner, yes?”

The mess hall had been well prepared on Wiggly’s insistence. The bare plastene tables and chairs had been replaced by exquisite, real oak furniture, and the cutlery was straight out of a fine dining restaurant. Yet the strangest thing to Tempest was the robotic replica of Wiggly Sprocket who stood silently at the table as the procession was brought in. It was her, down to her pale red fur pattern and two-toned blue mane, yet its head was akin to a doll with a screen serving as its face.

Both Tempest and the marines were a bit unnerved by it, with him looking at the original model. “Is this another ‘person’?”

Wiggly mentally commanded the robot to curtsy. “Oh no. This is a mechan, basically a drone under my control.” She had been careful not to let the group see any others on the short walk to the mess hall. “When I don’t have them working or recharging, they sorta act like me. I had to shoo them out of my room a few times when they tried to change clothes.”

Tempest watched Wire and Mote slide away so they could enter the kitchen. “You control them? Now how did a pegacorn manage that?” The unicorn glanced all over her, and didn’t see any external gear on the fatigued mare.

Giving a sheepish, frail grin, Wiggly had the mechan pull out the guests’ seats. “It’s been a very crazy two months. The short answer is gene tailoring.”

How very reckless of you. Tempest only needed a moment or two to rethink that. How… very much like you. “Aside from the battle, something tells me ‘crazy’ is an understatement.”

As everyone sat down, and the mechan collected drink orders, the two marines were a bit annoyed that they had to keep a protective eye out. That very protectiveness made them antsy when two more mechan arrived, only to relax upon seeing the food trays.

The trio of sailors were left in culinary excitement at the perfectly cooked tenderloins, steamed vegetables, and the promise of dessert teased their noses and softened their suspicions. The navy had only recently been able to upgrade their meals to just above being called rations. Yet the spread before them harkened back to before the war.

Live Wire eagerly watched them, hoping to glean insight should the sailors fail to give more than basic praise. Once everyone was served he clapped his hooves once. “Please, dig in.”

The marines wasted no time, yet Tempest paused long enough to give a query. “I’m sure the report says it all, but I’d like to hear it in person. What brought you to us, and how’d Wiggly Sprocket come to command your ship?”

Unable to stop himself, Morales had to take a bite before he could speak, and had to suppress a moan of culinary delight. Mote however was under less intense compulsion. “Recitation. Through our observation of your holo-shows and our pony crew’s own experiences, the Combine and Initiative have a number of things in common. The more relevant similarity is that we both are trying to recover from a… what is the word you use?” She briefly looked to Live Wire, who gave a quick answer. “Pyrrhic victory, thank you. We were on a mission to establish contact with your homeworld when we stopped here to use the gas giant to refuel. Unfortunately we dropped in inside the local minefield. As you can imagine, we were hit and we crash landed on the moon below.”

I’ll have to verify that. Mine-Com logs all of that sort of thing.

Having had his first few bites, Morales waved at her so she could take some time to eat as well. “The Akira’s been marooned here for five of your years. Mote and I would still be stuck there if Wiggly and the others had never arrived. So we struck a deal with them. Wiggly gained ownership of the Akira in exchange for helping us speak to one of your high queens.”

Keeping his thoughts to himself for several moments, Howling Tempest grabbed his glass of wine and paused mid sip. Sensors in his mouth detected an array of flavors and ingredients. None of which were drugs or poison, so he allowed himself to enjoy it. “That certainly is a big ask. I don’t know the state of the Initiative outside of Lilian, but if you got here on your own, I presume you have ship-based FTL. Correct?”

“We do,” Morales confirmed with a nod.

Wiggly decided to chime in. “We were actually wanting to ask you and maybe the governor for recommendation letters to make getting an audience with a high queen easier. Also, we were planning on grabbing a mass nullifier to bring back here.”

The marines beside Tempest became hopefully excited, yet the captain remained cool headed. They may have duped a few desperate ponies, but I won’t let them near an alicorn. “There is a lot to unpack in all this. I will say I approve of your aims, and I would have no objections to such a recommendation. But,” he directed at the bipeds. “I find it hard to believe that you would willingly hand over all of the technology in this ship over to us. The FTL alone will make anypony as rich as a high queen. The trade you lose in doing that is difficult to swallow.”

“Explanation. The Akira is old, sir. If the Combine was not in the shape we are in, this ship never would have been here in the first place. The only things that you are truly behind us on is our genetic tailoring and FTL.”

“She’s mostly right,” Wiggly added after downing a bite of pork. “Most of the stuff here we either don’t have because we never thought of it, or is probably a government secret somewhere. For example, the maulers’ autoforges are pretty crazy, but it’s not something we couldn’t make on our own. Really, learning how to fix this baby’s just a matter of unit conversion and different design styles more than anything else. This ship runs really hot too.”

Tempest saw Live Wire and even the aliens give her a ‘you can’t be serious’ array of frowns and snorts. Pegacorns… It seems her personality is intact. Perhaps the bipeds were more subtle. “Fascinating.” Tempest couldn’t stop himself and ate a few more bites. Each item on his plate was clean of foul play. He wagged an empty fork at the sole other unicorn. “I must apologize, Mr. Wire, but you’ll only get praise from me. I don’t have time to write a critique.”

Blushing in sheepish pride, Wire could only nod. “At least you’re enjoying it. That’s all that really matters, I suppose.”

“Indeed.” Tempest forked some vegetables. “Now, about this FTL…”

“As much as I would like to share, and profit off it,” Wiggly began with resignation. “That is something we’re not going to find easy.”

Humming in thought, Tempest spoke before eating. “Is it simply a matter of manufacture, or is it beyond even you?”

This time, Morales cut in before she could answer. “You ponies are in a very peculiar situation about it. If I were honest, the FTL is something my people should share, even if it would take you decades to replicate.” Morales put his fork down on the depressingly empty plate. He spotted some rolls, and opted to use it to soak up the juices. “Cathrex FTL is based on me, or at least my xenotype. For I can bend gravity to allow the ship to transition in and out of hyperspace. The ship itself acts as an extension of myself to allow such a feat.”

That put the sailors into a deeply silent pause. Tempest almost let the food in his mouth fall out before he regathered his wits. “You mean to tell me you are the FTL?”

“More or less.”

Rubbing his jaw, Tempest looked at Wiggly and Wire. When he saw no signs of deception, he let off a weary sigh. “A pity.”

Morales let him brood for a few moments, long enough to consume the roll. “This power of mine is borrowed from you ponies. I have no issue in sharing it with my father species.” The doctor took a bit of satisfaction from thier confused expressions. “You see, captain, I do not wear this face in some strange attempt at diplomacy. I wear it, because I am a child of both the Combine, and of Equiss.”

“You’re-” Tempest was at a loss as to how to respond. Even the marines stopped eating.

“He’s a terracorn,” Live Wire finished for him. “Or at least a cathrex version of one.”

“Rude,” Wiggly chimed in.

“Terracorn…” Tempest huffed in bewildered amusement. “Legendary masters of gravity. Your kind’s been watching us for a long time then.”

“Clarification. That would be inaccurate.” Mote tried to cut off any rising insult he might take. “We observed your homeworld almost a millenia ago for a few years. Then we departed to let you develop on your own. Yours was the first and only other planet we’ve ever seen still bearing intelligent life. All others were long gone before our scouts ever visited them. Even to this day, some joke that your world stole the intelligent life from other planets.” Morales gave a half-hearted chuckle, yet stopped when no one else laughed. “So - um - we left you and much of the surrounding space to your own devices. We didn’t even know you left your homeworld until we arrived in system. And met with your minefield.”

The room threatened to turn sour. So Wire leaned into Wiggly’s ear, and it wasn’t long before a mechan came to take up plates with the second presenting key lime pie and glasses of dessert wines. Tempest knew a distraction when he saw it, and posed a burning question before he could indulge. “Terracorns are impossibly rare. How-”. He suddenly raised a hoof up. “Nevermind, I will leave that be for now. My chief concern was the ship that attacked you, and it’s fuhai weapon. Who are they, and are they going to return?”

All five ponies looked to the bipeds who became pensive. Mote was wringing her hands, unable to enjoy the pie. “Statement. I would say it is likely. What we fought was a scout. It’s possible the controlling intelligence we call the Waylan will leave the system be, invade, or anything in between. The problem is that the Waylan is driven by directives that could very well have been corrupted over the centuries. What it will do next is unpredictable.”

Tempest’s mood darkened, and he firmly placed his fork on the plate. “If you leave, will the Waylan attack us?”

It took Morales a moment or two to nod. “Yes, even if it does not directly intend to. The fuhai is tied into its sensors. It wouldn’t matter if by some off chance the Waylan declares you non-targets, the fuhai will kill you all the same as it searched this system looking for any cathrex presence.”

The problem you see,” Morales continued with idle hand gestures. “We cathrex have genetically adapted ourselves into hundreds of xenotypes, or tribes as you’d know them. With all shapes and sizes. The Waylan could easily identify you as just another cathrex xenotype, no matter how different you or your ships are from us.”

Great, as if the pirates weren’t enough. Tempest tried to keep his internal hostile from showing. “I presume you have some sort of defense against this that you could share. Since you’ve brought this ruin upon us.”

“That’s not fair, sir,” Wiggly insisted with iron in her voice. “I saw the maps where the Waylan operate, and Lilian is practically in spitting distance. The only reason we haven’t run into them yet is because we don’t push our comms into hyperspace. If we did, the Waylan would have been all over the place before the colony ships would have ever left port.”

Scowling at her, Tempest carefully flattened his expression. “And how close is ‘spitting distance’?”

This time it was Mote who answered. “Statement. There is a Waylan stronghold in what you call the X572 system. That may seem like a long way to you, but for us, it is three day’s travel. Less so if we had modern engines.”

“X572?” Tempest’s steely gaze zeroed in on the marine who spoke to his left. “Sir, if I may, that is where the next portal station is going to be built. I heard the construction fleet left ten years before the war started, and they were too far off to be recalled.”

“Yes - I remember that now.” Tempest made some queries to the Rainbow Dash’s computer. “The seventh gen stutter drive they had should get them there in two years.” He rubbed his face as the stress built up. “So our doom only arrives early then. That doesn’t change the fact that we have no defense against this fuhai.” Provided it actually exists.

Morales tried to square himself. If Live Wire’s resistance had been any indication, then he knew Tempest would be just as reluctant. “There is, even if you won’t like it. Complete decyberization.”

All three sailors were aghast at the very idea. “Decyberization?!” Tempest growled with astonishment. “We’ve been a cyberized society for what? Three - four hundred years! There’s got to be a better solution than that!”

“If there is, we never found it.” Morales countered politely. The day the Waylan struck, we lost over ninety seven percent of our population. The ones who were left were non-cyborgs for one reason or another. You have more time for a solution, I grant you, but keeping your chrome is something we can’t help you with.”

“It’s not a total loss, sir,” Wiggly added in while pushing her plates aside to lean forward. “I’m able to talk to computers now just like a regular cyborg. I even have connectors.” She pulled back to show off her tail and pulled the connectors out for them to see. “My wings double as antenna for the mechans too.” She spread her wings out, only for lightning to arc violently with loud pops. Red faced, she hastily folded her wings back. “Sorry. The ol’ sparky horn thing went to my wings when I went through tailoring.”

Tempest and the marines knew this was coming, and he leaned in with a slightly quieter voice. “You realize gene tailoring is tightly regulated, yes?”

“I didn’t have much choice,” she countered easily. “I was already pressed hard enough keeping the Cloud Jumper working, the Akira is too much ship to do it by myself. The rest of them can’t help with the complex stuff. That aside, I don’t think the whole system has much of a choice either, pony or pirate. Of course, I wouldn’t shed any tears if you neglected to share that with the pirates.”

Live Wire chimed with a dire tone. “Even if the Akira left today, got to the closest system with a replacement mass nullifier, and back again, we’d still need years to rebuild Faraway Station. And that’s assuming the pirates let us.”

Tempest raised his hooves for them to stop. “Fine, you’ve made your point. What are you proposing?”

Wiggly looked to Morales who fished out a second tablet. “On behalf of the Combine, I am willing to share a basic template for strand spinning. It will keep the patient’s genetics and memory the same, save for adding in the tail connectors and the neural tissue to go with it. It will allow you to keep interfacing with your systems after some training.”

“I made sure of it, for what my word is worth,” Live Wire added with conviction. “Nothing fancy, no little unnecessary bits here or there. Just enough to make anypony factory stock with connectors.”

So a change in personality or loyalties is on the table? Tempest reluctantly accepted the offered tablet. He sighed as he thumbed through the bullet points. “This is a lot to take in, and certainly not something I can authorize on my own.” He paused a bit, and rested his chin on a hoof.

“There is something that would go a long way to earning the appreciation of both the wider navy and the high queens. If you accept, I will ensure the governor transfers enough blips for you to outright buy a mass nullifier if for whatever reason, a high queen doesn’t give you one to bring back here.”

The thought of so much money boggiled Wiggly and Wire’s minds. “Name it!” Wiggly declared before even thinking to ask the others.

Giving a thin smile, Tempest placed both tablets on the table in front of him. As you know, the navy has sailors from all over the Initiative. Only fifteen of my crew are actually native to Lilian. Let me fill your empty bunks with those who have family waiting for them. You can drop them off at the first system with a working gateway.”

Live Wire propped himself up on the table. The prospect of dozens of sailors coming aboard was exactly what he wanted. “You’ve got my vote.”

“Exaltation,” Mote began while excitedly clapping her hands. “I would love the chance to mingle.”

“Just so long as they don’t poke and prod at me, I have no issue,” Morales added with the barest hint of a jest.

“If they're on my ship, they better be ready to work and follow orders,” Wiggly declared with a firm hoof on the table. “I prettied up the path between here and the docking port, but my ship is a mess. I need all the hooves I can get, and I’ve got no use for somepony in uniform who won’t take orders from a civvy.”

An amused snort escaped Tempest, and she earned some approving nods from the marines. However, that was far from the evasive refusal he had expected. “There’s not one soul on my ship that’s a layabout. The prospect of returning home will give them more than enough motivation. But- should that prove insufficient, I will authorize a field commission as a civilian auxiliary captain. The commission will last say… two months, with a proper transponder this time. One not transferable between vessels.”

Her ears going flat from embarrassment, Wiggly nodded hastily. Doing some quick math in her head, Wiggly thrust out a hoof to shake. “If they don’t mind some tight spaces or sleeping in the hallway, we could accommodate sixty.”

So many? Perhaps part of her is hoping well free her from the aliens’ influence. “Excellent. I’ll post a raffle among the crew.” He stood up and shook her hoof.

“What about those on leave at the shipyard?” Wiggly queried with a bit of a chewy grin. “The Akira can make it there in an hour, yeah?” She looked to Morales.

“The station orbiting the inhabited world? Less than an hour, undoubtedly.”

Wiggly shrugged her wings. “I’m sure those recovering there could use a chance as well.”

Rather than be grateful, a cloud fell over Tempest’s face. “If you wouldn’t mind, I would like a complete report on the capabilities of this FTL drive you and the Waylan possess. If they do return, I need to know what I’ll be facing out there.”

Morales clasped his hands and dipped his head. “I’ll be glad to send you the details later, but I can give you the general points here and now. With a gravitor like myself, a ship can enter hyperspace anywhere they want. But exiting hyperspace is not so simple. Only stars and planets possess enough gravity to thin the veil to allow a ship to return to real space. Other than that, stable points around stars exist where the veil is thin enough already. Planets make entering hyperspace impossible without a gravitor.

“Thankfully, the Waylan don’t possess gravitors, so they can’t enter hyperspace except through those stable points. But they can enter real space through all the same ways the Akira can. If you want, I can add in all the scanning methods used to locate these points.”

The added techniques surprised Tempest, yet he quickly dismissed it. It’s probably a ploy, or he just assumes I’m as trusting as his current victims. “That’s very helpful, and yes, I would be very interested in that scanning tech.” Tempest thrust out a hoof to the hybrid. “You seem to be an honorable being, Medica. I trust the high queens will see that too. As for your de-cyberization idea. I can’t say how many will take your warning seriously. But for what it’s worth, I’ll present your case to the admirals and governor.”

Shaking his hoof, Morales heaved a sigh of relief. “You’re too kind, sir.”

As Tempest was guided back to the docking port, he sent a message to his marine command.

Later, aboard the Rainbow Dash, Howling Tempest mulled over everything he heard on the Akira. His quarters doubled as his office, and he was presently in the middle of typing up his report to the admirals.

‘It is my assessment that both Wiggly Sprocket and Live Wire have been compromised by these cathrex. Both admitted to undergoing medical treatment, and the aliens revealed a deep understanding of genetic manipulation. They obviously used that opportunity to alter their minds.

I’m worried how easy it was to talk them into accepting such a large boarding party given how there’s only four of them to resist a takeover.

While I am certain the battle they fought was not staged, this supposed weapon of mass death they talked about was clearly a ploy to frighten us into using their mind control tech disguised as a de-cyberization procedure. The plan was quite clever, and took advantage of the attack they weathered. The subject gets their implants removed, and their mind warped at the same time, paving the way for an easy invasion. I can at least rule out the pirates being involved. The Akira is definitely not a product of their design, and that Mote individual is beyond what anyone native to Equiss can produce. I recommend-’

A rapid knock on his door annoyingly interrupted him. “Enter!” The door hissed open, and his earth pony executive officer Molded Clay stepped in. He wore a troubled look that Tempest didn’t notice at first. “Ah good. Is the boarding party in place?”

“The first two groups are on the Akira and have finished assessing the crew, sir, it really is just the four of them plus eight automatons. They’re in the process of checking for automatic countermeasures. As requested, each of them are foreigners to Lilian.”

Tempest nodded in approval. “Good, good. Just make sure they don’t harm the two ponies. They’re the victims here.”

“I wish I was here for just a status report, sir, but we just received a burst transmission from the pirates.”

Confusion and nervous energy flooded the Captain. “What do they want? Some ransom demand that we hand over the Akira?”

“Don’t know, sir, but it was labeled for your eyes only.”

“My eyes?!” Tempest got up and approached him. “What in Tartarus are they playing at?”

“No idea, but I’ve already ordered for it to be scanned for malware. It’s clean.”

Tempest scoffed at the notion. “I’ll not be taking private messages from them. Put it on the bridge screen. If this is a ransom demand, we best hear it either way.”

“Aye sir.”

Clay stepped back, and Tempest followed him to the bridge. After claiming his captain’s chair, the order was given to play the message in front of the whole bridge crew.

A familiar face to Tempest appeared, and it got him to stand back up in anger and surprise; it was Thaddeus, his rival from the war. “Captain Howling Tempest, I had hoped to one day meet you again on the battlefield to reclaim my honor, but I fear that may never come to pass.”

Tempest saw the centauri was deeply troubled, and was traveling by car.

“I don’t know what the crew of that alien ship has told you, so I will act as if they have said nothing. The enemy it fought possessed a horrific weapon tied directly into its sensors. Our net riders compromised the local probe, and they used it to conduct detailed scans of the alien craft as it attempted to hijack the probe. Among their findings was the oddity of the sensor pulses it was putting out. Presuming the intruder might have sensors that could better pierce your countermeasures, they tested it.

“Turns out, it served a due purpose as a weapon, Captain, and it is unlike anything we’ve seen before.” Several pictures appeared around Thaddeus’ head. Each one revealed a corpse in various stages of decay, and the most unsettling aspect is that looks of terror and pain were immortalized on their rapidly rotting faces. “This is what happened to the net riders who were exposed to the sensor weapon, unaware of what they were dealing with. This weapon is dishonorable, vile, and it should not exist.”

Tempest couldn’t say it aloud, but the pictures depicting victims in the early stages matched the photos of Winter and Morales completely. The implications left him in a cold sweat.

“I tell you this now as insurance.” Thaddeus dismissed the pictures and had the camera zoom in on him. “The commodore plans to use this weapon to subjugate all of the Lilian system via your own sensor net, as well as control his rivals here. The delay is only thanks to our best net riders dying in the incident.” Thaddeus grunted in disgust. “Conquest should be done sword to sword, ship to ship. This - this just proves he is willing to throw away what scraps of honor we have left. I will try to stop the Commodore, but my allies can be counted on one hand with fingers to spare, and I do not expect to succeed. All I can promise is buying you some time. Since both alien vessels attacked on sight, it’s possible the one you now control has some form of countermeasure. I urge you to seek it out.” Thaddeus had the camera zoom back out so his torso was visible. He thumped his chest with a closed fist. “We may never see each other again, so let me salute the commander who bested me. You were a fine enemy, and defeating you like this would shame the ancestors. High Admiral Thaddeus out.”

The crew was at a loss as to how to take that. Tempest had kept his discussion with the Akira’s crew a secret to all but his executive officer and the marine commander. So he grit his teeth as a dilemma reared its head. Damn it, were the aliens actually telling the truth? The idea that Wiggly and her brother were not actually compromised hit him just as hard.

Molded Clay rested a tentative hoof on his shoulder. “Sir, if there’s even a chance he’s telling the truth about that weapon…”

“I know. That’s exactly something I’d expect from the Commodore. But for Thaddeus to warn us..?” Mine-Com did verify that a vessel was attacked five years ago. Tempest pulled back a bit, and held a hoof to his ear.

Aboard the Akira, a group of four marines were acting as if they were touring the ship. The officer stopped his approach to the command center when the call came in, and acted as if he was fascinated by the carbon scoring on the wall.