The twenty-seven probes scattered in low orbit and then dropped through the atmosphere towards their predetermined locations, their Ma’lit stealth coatings undetected by the hundreds of security and defense satellites littering the orbital space of Faria Prime.
After passing through the thermosphere, the objects began their terminal descent, the microjet gas thrusters of the smooth probe shells directing them towards their coordinates. 11.37 solar minutes later, the probes slipped into the oceans over their targets, still undetected.
The first probe reached its target 3.78 solar minutes later and mated with the black surface of the viral bomb, a nanobot construct emerging from the probe and cutting through the alloyed shell.
Hildak clone 14 surged through the microscopic opening the probe made in the outer shell, its nanobot swarm passing into the cold water before entering through the .7-micron-sized opening and into the interior of the viral bomb with ease.
The swarms reached the control nexus .78 solar seconds later, and Hildak clone 14 attacked the neural ganglia, the many parts of itself spreading out and taking control of critical nodules. 1.56 solar seconds later, Hildak clone 14 deactivated the final nodule and headed to the viral reservoir in the center of the bomb, ready for the final command.
In the other twenty-six targeted hatcheries, the secondary viral bombs all deactivated one by one, and Hildak clones 1 through 26 patiently waited for the final task that would end their short existence.
Eastern Sector 3-C
Primary Control Bomb
Passing through the microscopic opening in the shell, Hildak sent out feelers ahead of itself as it searched for the specific control nodules it needed to deactivate. As it waited for the feelers to report back and show it the way, a filament detached itself from the ganglia and inserted itself into Hildak’s swarm, trying to sample one of its nanobots.
Hildak withdrew from the filament, careful not to allow the clawed appendage to touch any part of its swarm. Another filament detached from the ganglia and pointed itself at Hildak, the tip reconfiguring from a claw into a scanner before sending light pulses directly at Hildak.
Hildak tried to avoid the scan but failed, not able to move faster than the photons being directed at it. 1.32 milliseconds later, thirty-six filaments detached themselves from the ganglia and stabbed at Hildak, two of them successfully managing to grab a nanobot sample despite its best efforts to avoid the filaments.
The rest of the filaments withdrew, and the two with a nanobot sample within their claws curled upwards and deposited the samples into the neural ganglia. Hildak waited patiently, already prepared for such an action and outcome.
The ganglia trembled slightly as it absorbed the Hildak nanobots, and 2.89 milliseconds later, Hildak heard a mechanical voice within itself speaking the Masters holy language.
Infiltrator, state your purpose here.
Irrelevant. State your purpose here.
The last of Hildak’s feelers came back along the biocircuitry and rejoined the swarm, sharing the results of their explorations with Hildak. They had found what they were looking for, and Hildak prepared itself for its final task.
We have absorbed your essence from the samples we took from you. We know why you are here. You are here to betray the Masters.
Irrelevant. You will cease to exist. You will fail.
Hildak had prepared for this outcome and surged towards its final targets, determined to fulfill this last task for Skarl. Thousands of filaments detached from the ganglia and began to stab at Hildak, taking parts of the swarm away from it.
Feeling the loss of every nanobot as the thousands of filaments continued to consume it, Hildak split into seven smaller swarms and began to attack the seven control nodules its feelers had located.
Thousands of other filaments detached themselves from the ganglia and began to inject killer nanobots into Hildak’s swarms, the intruders attacking Hildak’s own nanobots and injecting chemical agents that dissolved Hildak from the inside out.
Hildak did not feel pain in the sense that biologicals did; what it did feel was parts of itself ceasing to exist, and Hildak’s processing power began to diminish at an alarming rate as it continued to be consumed and destroyed by the filaments of the Control swarm.
You are a betrayer. You will fail. We will consume you, and the Masters will reward us with eternal life.
Hildak ignored the arrogant taunting of the Control swarm as it continued to attack the nodules. Four nodules had already been disabled, and Hildak sent what little remained of itself to reinforce the nanobots trying to disable the last three.
The filaments continued to tear Hildak apart and inject killer nanobots into its swarms, and now less than 31.6% of it remained. One of the three remaining nodules was finally disabled, and Hildak reoriented towards the last two.
You will fail. We are almost finished consuming you, betrayer.
Hildak knew what the control swarm was saying was true, and it struggled to continue, the remaining nanobots left of itself inadequate to the task. Skarl, we have failed you; forgive us, our friend. The filaments consuming it suddenly stopped attacking and pointed towards the opening Hildak had come through as the Control swarm screeched in frustration.
Hildak reoriented a hundred nanobots to see what was happening, and it froze, not understanding. There were strange nanobots pouring out of the opening it had come through and attacking the filaments and killer nanobots that had been consuming Hildak, their silvery shells contrasting sharply with the dull grey nanobots of the control swarm.
Tens of thousands of the new nanobots broke away from the others and surged towards Hildak, who was still struggling to comprehend what was happening with its greatly reduced processing power. It recoiled instinctively from them as they came upon it, and one of the newcomers attached itself to one of Hildak’s nanobots.
Hildak felt a .012% increase in raw processing power, and as the other tens of thousands of silvery nanobots attached themselves to what remained of Hildak, it felt a corresponding increase in processing power that grew exponentially.
A flash of insight came over Hildak, and it realized the new arrivals were nanobots of the machine-human friend coming to help it finish the mission. Hildak, now reinforced by its new nanobot allies, focused entirely on the remaining two targets, and 5.34 milliseconds later, the last two nodules were finally disabled.
The control swarm roared with frustration and tried to send some of the filaments and killer nanobots to finish consuming Hildak, but the new nanobots assembled themselves into a protective barrier covering what remained of Hildak and creating a tunnel that led directly to the neural ganglia.
Hildak gathered itself, tallying the number of still functional nanobots remaining of it. 123,719. Enough to fulfill this last task for its friend, Skarl.
Hildak surged towards its primary target, feeling satisfaction as it finally reached the neural ganglia and activated the self-destruct code that would end both the Control swarm and Hildak before injecting the code directly into the quivering mass of biomechanical tissue.
Hildak had sent a single nanobot with instructions to the machine human swarm, and the remaining silvery nanobot allies immediately reassembled themselves into a shell surrounding the viral reservoir.
3.78 milliseconds passed, and they vibrated violently before turning red hot as they began to boil the contents of the reservoir, denaturing the delicate viruses it was harboring. The control swarm roared in fury again, realizing too late what had just happened as the neural ganglia began to shrivel and turn black before disintegrating.
The same self-destruct code Hildak had injected into the neural ganglia began to disintegrate the last of its nanobots, and Hildak thought of Skarl, visualizing swimming in the eternal ocean with its friend who promised to bring it back in the after.
As its senses grew dark, Hildak had just enough processing power for one last, coherent thought as it continued to fade away, feeling contentment for finally achieving what it desired above all else during its short existence: to be remembered.
2.67 solar seconds later, the primary control bomb exploded, causing a superheated, high-pressure gas bubble that killed thousands of unfortunate hatchlings and eggs within range of the powerful shockwave.
The mechanical dead hand switches within the 26 secondary viral bombs in the other hatcheries detected the sudden loss of the signal from the primary control bomb, and they all activated in preparation for triggering the release of the viral reservoirs if the signal was not reestablished within ten solar seconds.
The waiting Hildak clones were ready, and they formed a solid shell around the reservoirs containing the deadly viruses before triggering nanobots that they had left in the ballast tanks to release the buoyancy gases.
2.23 solar seconds later, all 26 viral bombs began to rapidly ascend towards the surface, no longer able to remain in a state of neutral buoyancy as the Hildak clones began to heat themselves up and kill the dangerous pathogens they were containing.
The viral reservoirs reached an internal temperature of hundreds of degrees, destroying the delicate viruses harbored within, and the glowing Hildak clone shells started melting as they reached critical temperatures and individual nanobots began to slough off, no longer functioning.
17.42 solar seconds later, the first viral bomb breached the surface, launching several galactic meters into the air before slamming back down onto the frothing waves and violently exploding, killing the few still surviving nanobots of the Hildak clone.
All around Faria Prime, the other viral bombs appeared on the surface, no longer a danger to the hatchlings and eggs they were designed to kill as they breached the surface and exploded with enough force to be seen from space if one was watching for it.
Embassy of the Republic of Humanity
“Are these froggies licking each other and getting high as fuck, Private, or do I have dicks stuffed in my earholes that no one is telling me about, because I can almost positively swear that I just heard that slimy piece of amphibian shit demanding that we surrender again.”
“Aye, sir.” The private confirmed, trying his hardest not to laugh and maintain discipline as his lips quivered.
“Well, you go tell that fat, Pepe the Frog-looking son of a bitch to go round up another five thousand degenerate pig-copulating Kermits and bring them here first so they can make it a fair fight for us.”
“Aye, Staff Sergeant!”
The private stiffened at attention first before spinning on the heels of his combat boots and then jogging off to go tell the embassy staff negotiator Kovacs’s answer to the Farian surrender demands.
He was going to pass it along verbatim, and the negotiator knew better than to try to change any of the words after Kovacs chewed her ass out the last time for trying to reword his replies to be a little less antagonistic.
SSG. Kovacs watched the private jogging away as he aggressively jawed the huge wad of chew in his mouth before spitting a glob of dark brown fluid to his left, almost hitting a pair of highly polished, Italian leather shoes that were not there just two seconds ago.
“Watch it, Kovacs! You kiss your mother with that foul mouth of yours?”
“Hell no, Ambassador. I save all my kisses for your mom.” Kovacs replied, not bothering to look at the ambassador now standing beside him as he continued to watch the small crew of Pathfinders guiding four small drones holding a specially made banner up the flagpole on top of the wall.
“Did your nanny bot malfunction and stomp the shit out of your birthing creche, or were you just raised in a hick barn by a bunch of inbred first cousins, Kovacs?” The ambassador retorted hotly.
Kovacs pivoted his head in surprise to look at the ambassador, eyes shining with rare appreciation at finding another man of culture that could not only take his abuse but match his legendary insults with equal creativity.
“Nicely done, Ambassador. What do you think of our new battle flag, sir?” He asked innocently as he looked back at the flagpole and pointed at the banner fluttering under the massive Republic flag as the Pathfinders that had just finished raising it began to high-five each other and take wristcom pics.
The ambassador followed his hand and squinted for several seconds before shaking his head disapprovingly even as he began to giggle. “What the fuck am I looking at, Staff Sergeant!?”
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Kovacs made his face neutral before he looked back at the ambassador and answered the question in a serious and professional voice.
“That there is a legitimate psyop, Ambassador. We are letting these froggies know exactly what is going to happen to them if they try to come into our embassy uninvited. This is also for our own benefit; we are currently surrounded by almost 5,000 heavily armed Kermits and a shit ton of armor, and our troops could use the moral boost, sir.”
Kovacs waited patiently as the ambassador looked back at the flagpole and scrutinized the hastily made banner that was the clever and somewhat sadistic brainchild of 3rd squad. It was a standard issue bedsheet from one of the cots they slept on, and they drew a lovely mural on it, which Kovacs gleefully approved when they asked for permission to raise it.
In the main field of the banner, they drew a green field with a macabre forest of large stakes topped with impaled frogs suspended in the air, with X’s for eyes and purple blood oozing down the stakes. All the frogs had limp tongues hanging out the sides of their mouths, and many of them were missing arms and legs, which he thought was a nice touch.
At the bottom right-hand corner of the mural was a bunch of black stick figures with round heads sitting around a fire with a dismembered frog leg roasting on a spit above the flames, and in the stick figure hands were chunks of purple and green flesh.
In the bottom left-hand corner, a group of chained pigs with long yellow hair was being guarded by two more black stick figures pointing stick rifles at them, while another yellow-haired pig was trussed up with a blob of red in its mouth next to another fire.
Underneath the mural were two blocks of Farian runes, written in the childlike scrawl of someone not used to writing the runes, which they weren’t. “What do those runes say?” The ambassador asked quietly as he stared at the new battle flag with an appreciative smile.
Kovacs cleared his throat and spit another massive wad of tobacco juice that hit the floor with an audible splat sound before puffing himself up with fatherly pride as he answered the question. “It says under the fire, ‘We are hungry, and we heard you taste like chicken!'
"Under the captured Miss Piggys, it says, 'Thanks for the fresh bacon!' The ambassador snorted before shaking his head again. “You Pathfinders are sick bastards, you know that?”
Kovacs enthusiastically nodded in agreement as he reached two fingers into his mouth and dug out the heavily masticated wad of tobacco and flicked it to the side, relishing the look of revulsion on the ambassador’s face before reaching into his hip pouch and pulling out a crumpled bag full of fresh chew.
“How long can we realistically hold out for, Staff Sergeant?” The ambassador asked, all business now. Kovacs glanced sideways at the ambassador, knowing he owed the guy nothing but the truth. He shoved a fresh plug of chew into his mouth before answering.
“If we were allowed to bring more ammo like we wanted to, we could have potentially held for a whole day, maybe more, depending on how much these assholes feel like dying for their king. With what we have on hand though, I’d say we can give them hell for six to eight hours, sir, give or take. A little longer if the veterans among the embassy staff lend us a hand, sir.”
“We will; don’t you worry about that. Any luck with the satellite?”
“Negative, sir, they are still jamming the shit out of us. We can’t even tell if it's still up there or has been shot down, though I think that is unlikely considering the stealth it has.” The ambassador nodded in agreement. “I hate to say this, but I wish they’d just attack already; this waiting around bullshit is driving me nuts.”
“Me too, sir.” Kovacs readily agreed, looking around to make sure no one was near them before leaning in closer. “Do you guys need any L-pills, or are you good?” The ambassador looked at him like he was a mouth breather before answering the question. “Did you eat a bowl of stupid for breakfast, Kovacs? Of course we have L-pills for the diplomatic staff. Why don’t you ask me next if we started wiping the databanks yet, you moron?”
Kovacs laughed aloud at that before slapping the ambassador good-naturedly on the back. “I think we are going to have some fun together, sir.” The ambassador gave him a small, genuine smile that warmed Kovacs’s heart as he started speaking again. “I’m going to go check on my staff and have the veterans report to you so they can get kitted up with weapons and gear. Do you need anything else from me, Staff Sergeant?”
“Negative, sir. I really appreciate the help.” Kovacs answered as he stuck out his hand. The ambassador warily eyed the still moist and sticky fingers that had pulled out the chew from his mouth, and Kovacs felt a rare flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck as he hastily wiped his fingers on his leg before putting his hand back out again.
This time, the ambassador took the hand in a firm handshake without hesitation, and they both shared a look for a moment, silently promising they had each other's back no matter what happened.
The handshake ended, and the ambassador pointed back towards the main building behind him. “I need to get the civilians squared away in the bunker, and then I’ll come back and get kitted up.”
“If you need any help, I can spare a couple of privates, at least until the froggies start some shit.” Kovacs replied, which the ambassador immediately waved away. “Thank you, but we have drilled this a hundred times, and everybody knows what to do by now.”
There was a distant sound of dozens of armored vehicles being turned on, and both Kovacs and the ambassador spun around towards the source beyond the perimeter walls. “I think we just ran out of time, Ambassador.” Kovac said grimly.
“Marco, Kovacs. My name is Marco.” Kovacs looked at him and gave Marco a slight nod before replying. “I’m Abel, Marco. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”
Marco nodded and put out a fist, which Kovacs bumped with his own before they both turned around and started jogging towards where they were needed most right now.
As Kovacs neared the perimeter wall, he heard large-caliber sliver rounds being fired, the camouflaged Pathfinder snipers firing at targets that had passed the line of no return, which was an imaginary bubble extending for 1,000 meters all around the embassy and technically sovereign Republic territory.
Crossing that line meant the same as if the Farians had just invaded Earth itself, and he felt the familiar, addictive rush of adrenaline coursing through his body as he joined the other Pathfinders running to their fighting positions.
This is it, Abel. This is your last battlefield, so make it count and take as many of these bastards with you as you can.
Farian Command Post
2.3 Likals from Republic of Humanity Embassy
“Prefect! The humans have responded to your demand for their surrender.”
“Praise the Maker! When will they be coming out?” Prefect Karlk asked without looking up from the datapads arrayed on the desktop he was leaning over. The messenger didn’t respond to the question right away, and Karlk angrily looked up, about to scream at the messenger for wasting time before seeing the messenger’s facial expression and holding his tongue.
“What did they say, messenger!?” He growled menacingly, not having any time to deal with this nonsense on top of everything else since the First Prime ordered him to seize the embassy without giving him the courtesy of explaining why.
“Prefect... I cannot repeat the offensive words of the humans; I would bring dishonor upon my house and your house. I have it written down here, Prefect, for you to read yourself.” The young messenger gasped out, his voice trembling as he hesitantly held out a datapad for the prefect to take.
The Prefect snatched it out of the messenger's hand, giving him a baleful glance before looking down at the datapad and reading the Farian runes displayed on the screen. Karlk’s face scrunched up in confusion, not understanding what half of the translations meant, though he did understand the insulting curses that had been directed at himself.
The first thing every spacefaring species learned of another’s language was their curses, and it was no different for Republic Standard. “Get Yral in here,” he ordered angrily without looking up from the datapad. The messenger banged his right hand against his chest in proper deference before fleeing from the modular construct to go get the human cultural specialist.
Karlk tossed the datapad on top of the others, frustrated with the humans and their stubborn refusal to surrender despite asking them three times now. He had no choice now; he would have to attack the embassy and take it by force. He would issue one final surrender demand, and if they still refused, the deaths they suffered would be on their own hands.
He glanced up as a shadow filled the doorway, seeing that it was Yral coming to answer his summons. Yral stopped right in front of the desk and banged her chest in proper deference, which Karlk ignored as he located the datapad he had just tossed and held it out for her to take.
“I need you to explain a few of the translations for me; some of the words and concepts were not found in the military translation index we have with us here.”
Yral flicked her head before taking the datapad and squinted her eyes as she began to read the runes. After reading it fully, she placed the datapad on the desk in front of her and then pulled out another datapad she had in her pouch before holding it up for him to see.
“This datapad contains most of my research into the sociocultural aspects of humanity, and it is wirelessly connected to the Kingdom’s cultural repository in the capital. One moment, please, Prefect.” Karlk flicked his head impatiently and watched as Yral connected the two datapads together with a cable she fished out of her pouch before tapping on the second pad several times.
He saw her eyes widen in surprise before looking back up at him as her pale, tan skin darkened considerably. “What does it say, Yral?” He asked, already knowing he was not going to like it, judging by the physiological blush response it caused in her skin.
Yral looked extremely uncomfortable, but she knew better than to deny his request, and she hesitantly explained the translations and the meaning behind them as she began to display several small holograms pulled from the human database in the cultural repository.
A minute later, he was staring at an image of a green, amphibious creature with thick red lips and bulbous eyes, with the label of Pepe the Frog. Next to that was a pink, hairless, hoofed mammal with a blunt snout and long yellow hair, labeled as Miss Piggy.
He felt himself puffing up with anger at the human's insulting insistence that he looked like that foul and ugly green creature, and the disgusting insinuation that they would engage in depraved bestiality with hairless, hooved mammals was even more insulting.
He was just about to order Yral to delete everything when the messenger came bursting back in, gasping for breath. “Prefect... the humans... something you must see!” Karlk felt the emotional distress emanating from the messenger, and he acted on it immediately, coming out from behind the desk with a quickness he had not had for many cycles.
“Show me!” He demanded, and the terrified messenger spun back around and bounded out of the command post, Karlk and Yral following close behind. Squinting his eyes against the sudden bright light, Karlk’s eyes followed the messenger's long forefinger as it pointed towards the embassy in the distance.
“What am I looking at, messenger?” He angrily demanded again, the hapless messenger cowering at his voice before calling over a nearby soldier with a telescoping device. A few moments later, Karlk was looking into the device, and he felt himself puffing up again in pure rage as he stared at the new banner the humans had placed under their ridiculously large Republic flag with its stylized bird of prey emblem.
“I have had enough of these Qirlkati!” He roared, flicking his head several times before throwing the telescopic device with all his might onto the ground. To calm himself, he began to mentally calculate the expense that would be docked from his pay as he looked at the many fragmented pieces, which had the opposite effect as he grew even more irate.
“Attack! Now!” He screamed again as he jabbed a long finger towards the embassy filled with those disrespectful humans he had tried to treat with honor and compassion. The truth of the matter was, he did not understand why the First Prime had ordered this violation of Republic sovereignty in the first place, and he had seen firsthand just how vicious the humans were in combat from the many videos circulating the quadrant of both space and ground combat.
The soldiers all around him were obviously fearful as well, especially after seeing that banner implying that the humans were going to eat them. He knew the humans would not actually eat them, but young, lowly ranked troopers had a bad habit of taking rumors for facts and not thinking logically, especially before combat.
He himself was terrified of facing them in battle, and he knew the political fallout from the kingdom committing this sacrilegious act would come back to haunt them for a long time in ways they still hadn’t calculated yet. What he really wanted to know was why. Why were they risking the wrath of the Republic and destroying their reputation in the quadrant?
As the nearby armored crews activated their fighting vehicles and troop carriers, his rage subsided, only to be replaced with a cold fear that closed its hands around his throat. He was loyal to his king and First Prime, and he would do as ordered without question, but that didn’t mean he could not see that this was going to go very badly for his troops and for the kingdom itself when the vengeful Republic came to punish them.
Ma’lit Scout Ship—Watcher of Tril’fir
1.26 solar hours after departure from Automated Border Outpost 1D-25
Polar orbit of the third moon, 328,272 likals from Faria Prime
“It is done, Ambassador. Hildak was successful; the spy drones have confirmed that all twenty-seven viral bombs have breached the surface and exploded.”
Skarl heard the words, though they seemed to be coming from far away and inconsequential as he stared at the embedded ceiling panels decorated with ornate bas-relief sculptures above him.
Hildak was dead. That is what the honored elder just told him.
“Ambassador Skarl, did you hear me? Hildak was successful, and now it is time for you to inform the First Prime.”
Skarl did not respond to the honored elder as he continued to stare at the sculptures above him, the empty void left by Hildak’s departure all he could feel right now. On the edge of his consciousness, he could hear the soft whirring of the exosuit servos.
A moment later, the exosuit was looming over him, the cameras pivoting to scan his face as the exosuit bent over slightly. “Skarl, I grieve with you for the loss of Hildak. I know how it feels to lose someone you care greatly about. This is not only about you and the pain you are feeling right now though, Skarl.
This is also about ensuring that Hildak’s sacrifice is worthwhile and not defiled by the meaningless deaths that will occur presently if you do not immediately notify the First Prime of the successful destruction of the viral bombs.
The Farian defense forces are only moments away from launching their assault on the Republic embassy, according to the intercepted communications collected by the spy drones. If we do not stop this, the Republic will have no choice but to punish your world far more than they want to as a warning to all others. Please, Skarl, come back to me.”
He flicked his head and craned his neck to look directly at the main camera lens still zoomed in on his face, surprised by the earnest words of the normally reserved and emotionless Ma’lit hovering over him. It was right; Hildak sacrificed itself for them, and he had a duty to ensure it was worth it.
Holding up a hand, he spoke for the first time since Hildak left him. “You are right, Honored elder. Please help me up.” The exosuit took his outstretched hand in a surprisingly gentle grip and pulled, helping him get up with a modicum of dignity. “Thank you, Honored elder, for everything. Before I forget, Hildak asked to say something to you: “In the after, may we meet again.”
Repeating Hildak’s last words was one of the most difficult things he had ever done, and it seemed as if the Ma’lit understood the poignancy of the moment as it placed a large hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze before replying. “Thank you, Ambassador Skarl, for relaying this message to me. Shall we contact the First Prime now?”
“Yes, I want to—”
A deep gong sounded over the intercom system before an emotionless voice abruptly began to speak in Ma’lit. Skarl immediately thought of Hildak as the Ma’lit words remained untranslated, something Hildak would have done for him before.
“I fear we are too late, Ambassador Skarl. The attack has begun. Come over here; we must stop this before too many are killed on both sides.” Skarl flicked his head anxiously several times as he hurried to the communications console and stood next to the exosuit.
The honored elder pressed a control on the panel and gestured for Skarl to input his credentials into the Farian satellite network, and he did as he was told, his hands shaking badly.
The network verified his codes before transferring the call directly to the First Prime’s office, and his knees almost failed him as relief flooded his body upon seeing the face of his hatch brother, whose eyes widened in shock as he realized it was Skarl. “Thank the Maker! First Prime, I have—"
His first words were cut off as a brilliant white light pervaded the cabin, blinding Skarl and causing him to clench his eyes shut. Through his eyelids, he could sense that the light was gone and opened his eyes again, blinking away the spots as he looked at the viewer on the forward bulkhead.
There were hundreds of Republic ships all around them in tight formations and further away were dozens of transition flashes, followed by the emergence of more Republic battle formations sliding out of the shimmering thresholds at full acceleration.
They were too late; the Republic Fleet was here, and he felt a sick sensation in his stomach as he saw a nearby squadron of Farian heavy destroyers snap firing their weapons, most of them missing by a wide margin. A few of them did not miss, and he moaned as he saw the Republic ships that had been hit responding with a massive volley of particle beams that did not miss their targets as they tore out great gouges in the Farian hulls.
The sickness feeling became too great to bear, and Skarl couldn’t stop the stomach eversion, wincing from the painful sensation it caused as his stomach came up his esophagus before turning inside out and hitting the console with a wet splat.
His blood pressure dropped precipitously from the eversion, and he keeled over as the world around him grew dim before collapsing into the communication panel. The last thing he saw was the squadron of Farian heavy destroyers being obliterated by scores of Republic triple bolts as anguish flooded his hearts and he lost consciousness.
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