• Kriqua had to get back to her own body. She couldn’t live as the ship. If she had to, she would, only to serve the IGM. But she could serve it better in her own body. After a while of searching, she found the mechanical part of her brain, and tried to ignite a spark of life within it. It was her. She had to reach herself.
    It was easy to get into her brain, but it wasn’t her brain. She was still the ship. She had to get her life force back into her body… she saw her arm twitch. Yes! She tried again. Her arm twitched again. Then she pushed with all of her might, and her body spasmed. But she still wasn’t in her body. She was still the ship.
    She knew what was holding her back. She couldn’t let go of the ship’s computer core. If she did, and she failed to get back into her body, her spirit would float into emptiness, and she would be lucky to die instantly. If she didn’t die… she didn’t want to know how it would feel. She would be endlessly floating in a void, with no body and nothing tangible to her. But she had to let go to get into her body. Reaching out to her brain again, she lightly touched it. Then she pressed it. Then… she let go of the ship.
    Everything was dark. She blinked. She had eyes! But she couldn’t see. There was a ringing in her ears. She had ears! But she heard nothing from outside. The next thing she noticed was a great pain. Pain—all over her body. She had a body! She screamed in agony. She had a voice! Then she could see. It was dim, but she could see. She could see the people and robots swarming around her, trying to figure out what was going on. She was in a medical bay. Her vision was blurry, and she couldn’t identify the faces looking at her.
    She writhed in her agony, and in the process her head turned to the side. She forced herself to hold still. Her vision cleared just enough to see Thyu on another bed, unconscious, covered in casts and bandages. She gasped. Then she felt a needle on her skin. Then blackness came again.
    * * *
    Blackness. She couldn’t see anything. She couldn’t open her eyes. But this time, she heard.
    “Will she be alright?” Her mind was too unfocused to identify the voice. It took all of her brainpower to understand the words. She named it Voice 1.
    “That’s impossible to tell,” said Voice 2. “Even if our computer was working at full speed, we probably wouldn’t be able to tell what’s going on with her. She’s the first one to ever attempt such a feat as she did. Running on emergency power, we have no hope of figuring things out.”
    “There’s always hope.” Voice 3. Or was it 1?
    “We have to do more than hope.” No, that was Voice 1. “We have to pray, and we have to fight.”
    “Fight?”
    “Yes, fight. It’s her willpower that saved us, so our willpower will save her.”
    “And how do you figure you’ll do that?”
    “Like this.” Something touched her hand. It was another hand. It grabbed her hand. She could feel the warmth flowing into her body. It was like a touch of the Sun bringing the dead back to life. She felt the warmth spread through her arm as her blood began to flow. She felt her heart beating. It was fast and irregular—it was the beat of a heart striving to survive. She felt that her heart had been stopped for a long time. She should’ve been dead. She was suddenly aware of her lungs heaving, laboring for breath. How long had they been still? Then she felt her brain start to speed up. Mark! she realized. Mark was Voice 1. Mark had touched her hand and brought her back to life. Dociluas was Voice 3. Voice 2 was mechanical—it must’ve been a medical robot.
    She felt herself gasp for breath. Her throat felt like ice, thorns wrapped around her neck, constricting her. She willed the thorny vines to break—she willed the ice to thaw. She breathed. She struggled to open her eyes, but couldn’t.
    “Kriqua, I know you can hear me,” Dociluas said. “I don’t know how I know, but I know. Use the mechanical part of your brain. Let it reactivate the rest of your brain.”
    She tried to do as he said. She focused on the computer part of her—the rest of her brain throbbed. She willed it to work again—first, she found the part of her brain that handled subconscious activity. She forced it to start working again, making herself aware of everything that should’ve been subconscious. Everything moving in her body—and everything not moving that should’ve been. Her pain-drugged mind couldn’t identify all of the parts that weren’t working, but she pieced enough together to force them to work. When she had finished with that, she again focused on the conscious part of her brain. She could still feel Mark’s hand. She could still feel the warmth from it. She could still hear Dociluas’s voice. What was he saying?
    “…Kriqua, you have to do this. You’re almost there—I can feel it. Just open your eyes.”
    She tried, tried, and tried to open her eyes. She struggled on and on with it. Then a sliver of light appeared, hurting her eye. She ignored it. It was such a minor pain compared to everything else in her body. She pushed open that eye, allowing more light to spill in. Then the other eye opened a crack. Eventually, she managed to get both eyes open, and she could just barely make out Mark’s and Dociluas’s faces.
    “She’s alive,” she heard Dociluas whisper.
    “I told you,” Mark said.
    Kriqua was suddenly aware that her right arm was in a cast. Mark was holding her left hand. She would still be able to move her legs soon, but her movement would be restricted by the pile of bandages. She tried to speak. Her lips shook. She started to make some kind of sound, but something was pressed to her mouth. Cool water rushed in and down her throat. When the water stopped, she struggled to regain control of her lungs.
    “She’ll be alright,” she heard Mark say. “Stay with her, Dociluas.”
    No, pilot the ship, Kriqua wanted to say. But she couldn’t. Wait… didn’t she hear something earlier about emergency power?
    She began to be aware of blackness again, but this time it was a comfortable blackness. She welcomed it… and fell into it.
    * * *
    This time, when she awoke, she was able to look around. Inen and Thyu were both unconscious, with the medical robots treating them. Inen would be sure to live; blood loss was the extent of her problem. Of Thyu, however, she was unsure. Ayarthans were rather fragile, and he had taken a beating from a Ryeaoan.
    This time, she found her voice. “Dociluas?”
    “Yes?” Kriqua could tell that he was relieved to hear her voice.
    “Why is the emergency power on?”
    “Ah. When you came back to your body, the ship’s computer shut down. Mark and I tried to get it to work again, but it’s completely gone. We’d have to start from scratch to build a new computer. Ryan managed to modify the emergency power generator so that it would last longer.”
    “How long was I unconscious?”
    “It’s been a week since the incident.”
    “Oh.”
    There was a long silence before Kriqua asked “How’s Thyu?”
    “The medical robots said he would die in a maximum of three days. It’s been a week, and he’s still alive. If he’s lived this long, I believe he can pull through.”
    “Has he ever woken up?”
    “Yes, but every time he does, the pain is too much for him, and the robots have to sedate him.”
    Not Thyu! Kriqua felt hopeless. They had already lost Rye and Veyia; losing Thyu would be too much to bear right now. She forced her mind away from it; she still had other questions.
    “And Inen?”
    “Oh, she’s fine. She lost a lot of blood, but all she needs is rest. The wounds are almost completely healed. Peyb had his leg in a splint for a few days, but he’s fine now. Juxa didn’t deserve it, but we bandaged her before dumping her in a cell.”
    “You were right, Dociluas. I was a fool to shut out your caution. I ignored you when you warned me about Juxa.”
    “Kriqua, do you even realize what you did? There will be legends written about you! You fused yourself with the ship’s computer—which in itself has never been done—and you got back alive! You’ll be every Taquan’s hero! Not only that, but you saved our whole team with your actions!”
    “That doesn’t give me the right to neglect my responsibilities. I would be destroying my integrity not to apologize to you. I also need to apologize to the whole team for my failures back on Taqua.”
    She could tell that Dociluas was shocked. “But… you saved us all… and you’re apologizing?”
    “The only reason I would have not to apologize would be if I was perfect. And I’m far from it. Only God is perfect—I mess up just like everyone else here. And so I will ask for forgiveness each time I do something wrong, so I can try to be closer to perfect. Will you forgive me?”
    “I… I forgive you,” Dociluas said, appearing to be in awe of Kriqua’s insistent apology.
    “Dociluas, we need to get out of space. What’s the nearest inhabitable planet?”
    “A small planet called Shnadi.”
    “We need to send a message to—”
    “That is not a good idea; the only people on Shnadi rich enough to have ships are UNO officers.”
    “So we send a distress signal and ambush any UNO force that comes onto our ship.”
    “Is that our only option?”
    “Do you see a different one?”
    Dociluas hesitated. “Mark and Ryan are trying to put together a new engine.”
    “Oh.” She paused for a moment. “Is it going well?”
    “No.”
    “Why aren’t you helping them?”
    “Because I’m the only one besides Juxa who has any understanding of what you did, so no one else can make sure your mind is recovering correctly.”
    “That will do no good when we run out of food because we’re stuck out here in space.”
    “Their hopes were that you would be able to help them, since you’re the best with technology.”
    Kriqua inwardly rebuked herself for thinking that Mark didn’t have a good plan. Mark always had a plan. While she had been trying to get back into her body from the computer, she had found self-destruct programs that had been placed there by Juxa, but she had also found programs that countered them… The subtlety and creativity, she guessed, was Mark’s work.
    “Well, Doctor Dociluas, what is my condition?”
    He smiled at the joke, gratefully acknowledging the change of attitude. “You’re fine to walk around and return to regular work, but the robots are sure to make you wait another day or two anyway.”
    Kriqua couldn’t help laughing lightly at the joke, but she knew there was truth to it. Medical robots were way more cautious than they needed to be. They were programmed to take care of soldiers, but they didn’t understand anything about the commandos.
    * * *
    It had been a week. He wasn’t dead. He had been told that he had a couple of days. He hadn’t believed it then, and now he knew it wasn’t true. He had been given minimal water and no food, but he was still alive, and he still hadn’t told Nithril anything.
    Now Nithril stood before him, as he had several times each day, waiting to see if he had any information to give. “So, Grand Admiral Goft, how long did it take you to catch onto my bluff?”
    “Not long. It was rather obvious. You wouldn’t risk killing someone with valuable information.”
    Nithril grinned as if Voisloid had told a joke. “You overestimate your value. Listen, I already have spies in Ayarth.”
    Voisloid’s eyes widened. His head was pounding, and his heart was racing. Had all of his efforts been for nothing? If he had nothing to offer Nithril, how could he assure the safety of Taqua?
    “I’m tired of playing your game, Goft. I’ve known since I came here that the IGM went to Ayarth.”
    “How?”
    “That doesn’t matter. But if you pretend you bargained with me, I’ll pretend that we made conditions for me to leave Taqua alone.”
    Voisloid didn’t know how to respond. What Nithril was saying didn’t make sense. Was this really the ruthless Nithril that had terrorized the entire universe?
    “Listen, I don’t want to shed any more blood than I have to. I’m not an unreasonable person. This amount of time is enough to believe that you made a deal with me. If we can just keep it at that, Taqua will be safe!”
    “I’m not a fool.”
    “I’m not saying you are; I’ve only been stating truths.”
    “But not the whole truth, I presume?”
    “Ah yes… The whole truth. Well that’s different. Taqua has threatened violence since the day I picked you up, and they’re gathering an army. They don’t like this kidnapping business. Well, that’s half true. They believe you to be dead, so they want me dead, too. I have my fleet outside of the orbit, and if I move any closer, I’ll be in range of their ships. They won’t try to make peace with me, and they’ve shut off all communication. So unfortunately… you can’t go back if you want to live.”
    “So this is where negotiation ends…”
    “If you’re referring to our imaginary negotiations, then yes. But that doesn’t mean you die. You have a choice—you can either attempt to return to Taqua without getting killed, or you can come with me and assist me with your former comrades, as you originally wanted. Or have you forgotten your desire for revenge?”
    Voisloid’s mind suddenly turned to books he had read as a child. Movies he had watched. Stories he had heard. The enemy would crush all hope, and then offer one hope for escape—one desire to come into reality—and his prey would be trapped. Voisloid refused to be trapped. He would not give into Nithril’s wishes. “I’m going back to Taqua. I don’t believe you when you describe how serious the situation is. Why should I trust you after the way you’ve treated me?”
    “Very well.” The prison door opened, and the lasers shut off. “If you really want to go, go. Replica will escort you to the shuttle.”
    Voisloid left in a daze. Could it really be that simple? Could he really escape so easily? His captor was escorting him to the exit. What was going on? Another thought crept up on him—if Nithril knew all along where the IGM leaders were, why was he still in orbit over Taqua?
    A thousand other thoughts raced through his mind as he stepped onboard the shuttle. It launched as soon as he was seated. He watched the screen as the shuttle moved into the atmosphere of his beloved planet. He saw the Taquan fleet ahead of him. This would be simple. It would be easy to open up communications with them by using the mechanical part of his brain…
    He hit a roadblock there. What was going on? He couldn’t feel the mechanical part of his brain. Instead, static erupted in his head. His vision blurred as his brain exploded in pain.
    The shuttle started to shake. Setting the pain out of his thoughts as much as he could, he looked at the shuttle’s pilot screen. Various messages were appearing everywhere explaining damage in different parts of the shuttle. The Taquan fleet was firing on him! Safety procedures kicked in, and metal cuffs locked his wrists and ankles in place along with the seatbelt. Nithril was telling the truth. That was his last thought.
    * * *
    Nithril had guessed that Voisloid would choose to return. It was love for his planet that had led him to betray the IGM in the first place. Even if he had acted differently, though, Nithril could’ve used it to his advantage.
    He had guessed that much. But he knew that the shuttle would be shot down. So he had planned for how to turn that to his personal advantage. He had strapped explosives to the outside of the shuttle, carefully concealed. They were more fireworks than anything else. They would fry the inside, of course, but it would leave enough evidence for people to piece a false story together. The main purpose of the explosions was to make it look like the shuttle was a suicide run to take out the Taquan defenses. And that’s what they would believe.
    “That was…”
    Nithril looked back. “What is it, Commodore? I’m in the middle of starting a space battle.”
    “You kept… You toyed with Grand Admiral Goft for a full week, and then you just threw his life away like that?”
    “Threw his life away? I used him to gain an advantage against the Taquan fleet. Would any New Order officer act differently?”
    “Now I understand,” Thorburn said, shaking his head. “Now I see why everyone’s afraid of you. You really are merciless.”
    “Can we talk later? The Taquan fleet is advancing as we speak.”
    “Oh, uh, forgive me, sir.”
    The fleet headed straight for Nithril’s ship, the Reckless Wanderer. These were not ordinary pilots—for the most part, Taquan ships were remote control, so they learned to pilot without fear for their lives. They didn’t attack whatever was the most immediate threat to them, they went straight for the heart. That was what Nithril admired most about the Taquan fleet.
    The Taquans came with a plan. Thousands of small things peeled off of all of the ships, heading straight for the Reckless Wanderer. “Zoom in on one of those,” Nithril told his ship, pointing to indicate what he was talking about. The screen zoomed in on the small object. Seeing it close up, he determined that it was the size of a small fighter plane, big enough for four small machine guns, engines, drills at the front, and something else, scattered across their hulls…
    This will be interesting, Nithril thought. He already knew that they were coming for his ship, but he wanted to see what conclusion the computer would reach. “Where will their present course take them?”
    A diagram of his ship appeared on the screen, with a flashing circle in one particular spot. Nithril blinked. The robot storage room? If they wanted to sabotage my army, why aren’t they going for the other ships? Slowly, he smiled. It had been a long time since he had been taken by surprise, and now it had happened twice on one assignment. First, Voisloid’s actions in his favor, and now this…
    “Activate the army in the storage room, and give them a standby order.”
    The small planes were getting closer. Their guns swiveled to fire at any enemies who came too close. As they came within one hundred meters, their drills activated.
    They think they can just drill through my hull? Either their weapons are tougher than they look, or these Taquans aren’t as smart as I gave them credit for.
    A request suddenly popped up on the view screen, but disappeared before he could read it. “What did that say?”
    “I don’t understand,” the computer responded.
    “That request that popped up!”
    “The request that you confirmed asked for permission to open the doors to the robot storage room.”
    Looks like the Taquans are smarter than I gave them credit for after all. “Show me input from a camera in the storage room.”
    The image appeared, and he watched as his robots fired at the small fighters coming in. Some of them were hit, but even smaller machines pealed off of those ones. The dart-shaped machines passed straight through the robots, destroying critical parts of their operating systems, then redirected themselves to head through the door to the rest of the ship.
    “Close and lock all doors. Override any remote requests to open them.”
    The doors did close. But that didn’t slow the missiles. They passed through the metal like a needle passes through thread. Nithril got his pistol ready and set it to “chain”.
    Commodore Fenn looked startled. “Will you need that?”
    “Leave the bridge, Commodore. I understand you have a personal starfighter?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Get in it. Do not engage the enemy. Slip past them and go down to Taqua. I’ll meet you outside the Taquan Pentagon in exactly twenty-four hours.”
    “You’re just going to march in and—”
    “Just go! We don’t have much time.”
    Nithril raised his electro-pistol and faced the door. Addressing his supercomputer, he said, “When those flying objects are within visual range, open this door for precisely one second.”
    Then he waited, pointing his pistol. His ship was big, but he knew he wouldn’t wait long. The missiles were fast. He wasn’t afraid.
    As soon as the door began to open, he squeezed the trigger. Electricity shot out, striking the lead missile and spreading to the ones behind it. The electricity caused the missiles to overload, but the electrical blast kept pushing onward, finding more and more targets, feeding off of the missiles’ own electricity. The explosions were massive. His second was up—the door closed.
    A burst of fire had gotten through before the door could close all the way, and Nithril sidestepped it, feeling the heat on his face and chest as the flames licked the air millimeters away from him.
    The explosions were too much for the door to contain—Nithril anticipated this. He didn’t try to avoid the debris—instead, he jumped toward the metal shards flying at him. He folded his legs to hit a large plate, and reached out with his left hand to grab a slightly smaller one. Then he uncoiled his legs, springing to the side of the room, using the piece of metal he grabbed out of the air to shield his face and torso. He felt the energy burning his hand and legs. Then the explosion stopped.
    He looked down at his charred legs, and his blackened hand. They were still working, so he could be easily healed in a medical bay. For now, he would just deal with the pain.
    “Focus all firepower on that lead ship. Launch all remaining robots into space toward it.”
    Up to this point, the Reckless Wanderer had been spreading out its fire. Now that the explosions occurred, the Taquans would assume that Nithril was dead, so the change in tactics would be the last thing they expected.
    Missiles, bullets, and robots alike shot into space to hit the lead Taquan ship. The missiles and bullets struck first, tearing gaping holes in the hull, and the robots got inside and began blasting through everything.
    “Now order the whole fleet to pull back. Order the largest ships to tow the Reckless Wanderer.”
    As the ship began to retreat, the Taquan fleet began to pursue them. The panic that Nithril had hoped to create was non-existent. The Taquans continued to press onward, even with the destruction of their flagship. His fleet was taking hits from behind. Most of the enemy ships were heading straight for him. This complicates things, Nithril thought. There was no doubt that he would survive, but this would certainly be a blow to his fleet.
    “Have all ships fire their missiles back at that fleet.”
    The missiles fired with perfect accuracy. Not a single rocket went off course. Nithril expected no less from his robotic army. They struck the pursuing ships, leaving gaping holes in their hulls. But they kept going.
    “Fire everything!”
    Guns blazed, drilling through the ships. The computer brains of the ships were programmed to shoot around the holes that were already there, widening them. But they kept going.
    Then Nithril understood. They were going to ram Nithril’s larger ships. If they were willing to do that, then that must mean that the number of ships he saw now was inconsequential to them…
    I had no idea the Taquan fleet was such a formidable force. If I had anticipated this, I would’ve planned differently… And yet, there was a reason Nithril never failed. He had a plan to turn even this into a victory.
    He thought for a moment. He knew he would survive, but several things could happen to separate him from his fleet. “Order all remaining robots to disguise as wreckage when this ship is destroyed. When possible without detection, they are to put the ship back together enough so that they can get out of here. Tell Replica that he’s in charge, and he will be the judge between going straight to Ayarth or going to an UNO planet to make better repairs first. Have the rest of the fleet hide near Ayarth and wait for someone to come and take command.” He paused. “Are there any thinking robots aboard the other ships?”
    “Four ships aside from this one has one thinking robot each,” the computer responded.
    Nithril couldn’t help but notice how much closer the Taquan ships had gotten. They were skeletons of the grand ships they used to be, but they were still coming. “Those four are in charge until someone else takes over.”
    The ships were nearly upon him. He hoped that the orders had been transmitted without any problems. “Eject the cockpit now!”
    He felt a lurch as the cockpit disconnected from the rest of the ship. The cockpit itself was damaged, and the artificial gravity malfunctioned, throwing Nithril forward and slamming him into the computer screen. Then he was slammed back into his seat, and he quickly strapped himself in. He heard a blast as one of the engines exploded, and his modified escape pod went out of control. He saw guns firing at him. A hole appeared in the wall. “Adjust to the engine difference and get to that planet!”
    That would be his last verbal order to the computer. He took a deep breath, fully aware that he was pushing his luck as the oxygen was sucked out into the void. Taqua loomed closer in the view screen, but he was still aware of the bullets pounding the hull. It was getting cold. He reached forward to type in a final command. A metal bubble wrapped around him. Now all he could do was wait…
    * * *
    Thorburn was just taking off in his personal starfighter, Thor’s Hammer, when an explosion threw him off course. His ship spiraled out of control, but his cameras rotated opposite of the fighter’s spin to show him a clear picture of what was going on. The Reckless Wanderer… It’s being destroyed! What will happen to the rest of our fleet? Half of those ships were mine!
    As he righted himself, he saw a piece of the Wanderer’s bridge flying in space with engines of its own. He turned his own bridge into an escape pod? Was he expecting this? A burst of flame appeared in space as the escape pod was destroyed. Nithril was defeated! How can this be? No, wait… That orb must be a last resort… So that’s why Nithril wanted to meet on Taqua.
    Thorburn pressed a button on the corner of his keyboard, activating the Hammer’s chameleon skin. Electricity covered his starfighter, and it changed colors to match the backdrop of space. As he got closer to the planet, it would change colors again. It wasn’t perfect, but it would certainly get him past Taqua’s security. While their fleet was out here, a lone starfighter entering the atmosphere would be sure to go unnoticed.
    * * *
    President Jon Akkraf stood behind the pilots… Piloting remotely. Their ships were completely destroyed, but that was acceptable. Taqua had plenty more ships that UNO didn’t know about. Since the majority of their fleet was controlled through the Taquan Implant, they weren’t losing any lives along with the ships. They lost nothing they couldn’t replace. But what they were interested in now were the still-active cameras floating amidst the debris. They could still see Nithril’s forces retreating. They scanned the debris…
    They saw a body in the view of one camera. The operator zoomed in, and the president leaned closer. It was the body of Nithril. His right side was blackened. “Our mission has been successful,” Akkraf said. “Good work, all of you. Grand Admiral Voisloid Goft has been avenged.”
    They had already received information about what had been inside the ship that came toward them strapped with explosives. Voisloid was dead, and Nithril had arranged it. That didn’t bode well for Taqua. Nithril wasn’t wasteful—if he threw away Voisloid, then he had the information he wanted. Taqua no longer had anything to offer UNO. But now they had an advantage: the retreating robots would report that Taqua’s fleet was destroyed in the process, so when they came back, Taqua would have the advantage of surprise.
    * * *
    Replica was annoyed. He wished he hadn’t been programmed with the ability to be annoyed, but he knew it was necessary, because if he couldn’t be annoyed, then he would feel no obligation to fix things. Still, he was annoyed. Here he was, floating in space, waiting for someone to come and retrieve the cameras, or for them to be shut off. He didn’t want to wait for gravity to pull them all to the planet below.
    He was annoyed about other things too. Such as the damage to his exterior. He no longer looked like Nithril—his right side was exposed to his robotic parts. He hoped that the Taquans were stupid enough to mistake it for a burn mark.
    He was annoyed that the other robots had clung to larger pieces of metal. He knew it was best for hiding, but he also knew that he couldn’t do the same thing. He had to be out in the open so that Taqua would think Nithril dead and let their guards down.
    He was annoyed that he had been put in charge of a damaged, scattered army of only 372 operable robots. Only 103 of them were functioning perfectly, and he estimated that both numbers would go down sixty percent if they had to enter the atmosphere.
    More than anything, he was annoyed with his ability to be annoyed.