“Thank you for coming,” Admiral Vii, the Admiral of the Federation Navy said to the conservatively dressed Kreneel sitting across from a long panel of elaborately uniformed naval officers.

“Happy to assist the Federation,” the Kreneel said grimly. “I hope you will take what I have to say to say seriously.”

“Agent Kraak-To, you are the foremost expert on the human criminal gangs in the Federation,” Admiral Vii said, her skin turning a respectful teal hue. “I know my predecessor’s… and our collective reputation… but those days are over. We need your expertise and your experience. In fact, we would like to offer you a commission. Based on your education, experience, and civilian pay rating, we feel that the rank of captain would be appropriate… Privately, many pushed for you to become an admiral, but I’m afraid any promotion will have to wait.”

“Considering the situation,” Agent Kraak-To said grimly, “I accept.”

“Thank you,” Admiral Vii said, her skin turning green with pleasure. “We need all the help we can get. Do you have any initial observations?”

“I have two very real concerns,” Kraak-To said gravely. “Firstly, where are the rest of their ships?”

“I think they have more than enough of them already,” Admiral Parook said ruefully.

“You don’t understand,” Kraak-To replied, “What we have seen is only a fraction of their available fleet.”

“What?!?” Admiral Vii spluttered, her skin turning purple.

“The human syndicates, collectively known as the Confederacy of Sol,” Kraak-To said evenly, “Have thousands of ships between them, many of them unrecorded. We do not know the full extent of their fleet but ‘thousands’ is, if anything, an understatement. In the few short decades the humans have been a part of the Federation, they have dominated, absolutely dominated, smuggling, piracy, and many other illicit activities, all of which require extensive fleets, fleets that we have not seen as of yet. Where are they?”

Kraak-To leaned forward earnestly.

“We need to find those ships. They are out there. What are they doing or, more concerning, what are they waiting for?”

***

Captain Voshook walked onto the bridge of the Glittering Resolution, one of the new “Arbiter” class Federation heavy cruisers, especially designed to be able to fight the Republic.

Fast and deadly, captained and crewed by only the best of the best, hardened veterans of the ruinous Republic War, they and ships like them represented the pride of the Federation Navy.

“Attend!” a scarred, armored Threen quietly barked.

“Resume,” Captain Voshook replied, noting with satisfaction that nobody even looked up from their screens, much less foolishly jumped away from their stations in some stupid display of deference. He had no time for that. Most new crewmen only had to be informed once. Nobody needed instruction more than twice.

Commander Rex’ulll quietly got out of the command chair as Captain Voshook approached.

“We are five minutes from entry into normal space, Captain,” the commander said quietly, “All systems nominal.”

The captain took his seat.

“And our specialists?” the captain asked. “Are they at least compliant?”

“They are… ‘resigned’… to their role in this mission,” the commander replied. “Their morale is extremely low, captain.”

“Understandable,” the captain replied, “Well, hopefully, they will come around once they realize who we are and what we are about.”

“The fiasco in Raylesh and Zaran has completely undermined all confidence in us, captain.”

“And that confidence will be hard to regain,” the captain replied. “You are relieved.”

“Hopefully, for only five minutes,” the commander replied, his mandibles glistening in the light as he saluted and walked away.

“Activate adaptive cloaking,” the captain said impassively.

“Which ship, captain?”

“Surprise me,” the captain smiled.

***

The Glittering Resolution entered normal space, with the energy signature of a Federation Class Fourteen transport.

By the time a pirate closed to visual range, it would be too late. A warship designed to fight “dragons” would be at their throat.

“Here tasty, tasty morsel...” the captain crooned. “Here’s a nice fat juicy grub just for you...”

“All scans clear...” a Threena said with disappointment in her voice, her eyes never leaving her displays.

“Stay ready,” the captain replied, “They sometimes time their arrival for just after the target, Void knows how. Set course for the relay. Jump when ready.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Tell the specialists to gear up.”

“Yes, Captain.”

The ship jumped a gratifyingly short time later. Captain Voshook nodded approvingly. He had poached that navigator himself. His work during the Republic War was legendary.

They reentered normal space moments later, only a few kilometers from their target.

“Impact! Impact! Impact!” was calmly and clearly shouted (yes, that’s a thing, ask any veteran) as the unmistakable sounds of shield strikes were heard.

“Sound General Quarters!” the captain calmly and rapidly replied, “Tactical display twelve on main screen. Display eight on right. Display four on left,” as the bridge burst into a flurry of disciplined activity.

“…oh dear...” The captain said calmly as the situation was made clear.

The hyperspace relay had been blown apart, and its debris was the source of the impacts still bouncing off their shields.

“Well...” he said impassively stoking the burn scars on his face, “This is new...”

***

Chaos reigned at the Office of the Navy in Capital City.

“Another report in!” a frantic Kreneel lieutenant screeched over the din. “Relay 19821 is destroyed!”

“They are dismantling the entire network!” a frazzled Vulxeena shouted, only in her shirtsleeves as she tried typing on three keyboards at once. “All of them… everywhere… How?!?”

“Can we ping the network?” A Nooolo captain clicked, “Maybe try to come up with a pattern, find out where they are striking next?”

“If we could,” a Threen sergeant snapped as they held a communicator to each ear, “We wouldn’t be down in the first place!”

A few floors up, Admiral Vii sighed.

“Well, Captain Kraak-To,” she said with a wry chuckle, her black skin betraying her despair, “I think we just found those ships you were just talking about...”

***

At the Xxian embassy, Veeka’s afternoon was not going any better.

“I’m sorry, Councilor,” the Xx standing in front of her said politely, “But the ambassador is not available at this time. Would you like to leave a message for him?”

“That will be unnecessary,” Veeka “smiled” revealing tiny but quite sharp teeth, “because I will be speaking with him very soon. Get… the… fucking… ambassador… NOW!!!”

The Xx sighed.

“As I have said more than once already,” the Xx replied, “It is now after working hours. The amb—“

“Wait,” Veeka said, her voice starting to quiver, “Are you seriously telling me that I, a step-brotherfucking FEDERATION COUNCILOR, can’t talk to the ambassador, in a sisterlicking emergency… because he has litterpounding clocked out for the day?!?”

The Xx smiled pleasantly.

“...Yes.”

“Ohhhhhhhhh, HELL NO!” Veeka shouted as she started to stomp towards the embassy’s entrance.

“Councilor!” the Xx barked at her generous backside, “This is Xxian sovereign territory!”

“Well, hold on to your tailfeathers,” Veeka shouted as she flashed a very rude gesture with her second arms, “Your ass is getting invaded!!!”

“Councilor!” the Xx snapped sharply, seizing Veeka’s shoulder.

mistake

The Xx instantly found himself pressed face-first into the pavement in a perfectly executed arm bar. Before he could even squawk, Veeka pressed the “gemstone” on her large gaudy ring against his neck.

Sensors in the ring immediately identified the species and delivered a very small but very effective neural disruption pulse.

The Xx went limp, a puddle of urine spreading out from underneath him.

Veeka marched past him and with a little jiggly spin, kicked the door open causing a siren to start blaring.

“Doo doot dee fucking douuuuu!” she shouted, mimicking the ancient horns her people used in battle as she marched into the embassy.

***

“And what is your second concern,” Admiral Vii asked now Captain Kraak-To.

“The near total lack of atrocities,” Kraak-To replied calmly.

“Lack of atrocities?!?” a Vulxeen admiral shouted as he leaped to his feet, tears running out of his ears. “My home(choke)… My homeworld is in ruins… hundreds of thousands dead… How dare you say that there haven’t been atrocities?!?”

A nearby officer gently guided the stricken Vulxeen back to his seat.

“While that was horrible,” Kraak-To replied impassively, “that was a measured, planned response directly from Jessica Morgan herself. I am talking about the actual members of The Confederacy. These, and I use the word very loosely… people are animals… no… they aren’t even that… they are feral. What happened to your people actually pales in comparison to what they have done on a regular basis until the very beginning of this crisis. Some of the criminal gangs, like The Wraiths, are quite professional and merciful. Others, like The Black Angles, Los Niños, The Dragons, The Thanes… and of course the Long Shanks, are some of the most brutal gangs in Federation history, perhaps galactic history. These people are monsters.”

Kraak-To sighed heavily.

“The things I’ve seen...” he said grimly, “Imagine the absolute worst thing that could be done to another sapient creature. Whatever you came up with, they have done worse. It’s a sick competition between them. They actually have spaces in their ships where they can expose people to hyperspace… for fun!”

“Creators,” one of the admirals whispered in horror.

“And now, they are all suddenly on their best behavior?” Kraak-To asked dubiously. “This actually bothers me quite a bit. It’s like there is this dam of pure misery and horror ready to break at any moment.”

“Jessica Morgan is playing quite the public relations game,” Admiral Vii replied. “Perhaps she has ordered restraint?”

Kraak-To shook his head.

“Jessica Morgan has often been blamed for their horrors, but she has never supported that sort of thing,” Kraak-To said gravely, “In fact, she constantly tried to moderate their actions during the Sol War and afterwards. If she could restrain them, she would have. No. She made a deal with the devil and is stuck with the demons summoned to do her bidding. She can barely control them on a good day. Now, with ultimate freedom, they behave?”

Kraak-To shuddered.

“Their fleet has just started to appear. I fear for what is going to happen next. We have to stop this and we have to stop this now.”

***

Veeka slowly opened her eyes.

She was lying in a very comfortable medical bed of some sort at the foot of which was a very nervous and uncomfortable Xxian ambassador.

“Little nipple-licks couldn’t even go hand to hand with an old rodent?” she groaned.

“After the first three,” the ambassador replied, “we thought it wisest to use ranged weapons. Your ring will be returned to you upon your departure.”

“You mean I’m not a prisoner of war?” Veeka snickered.

“Oh! Far from it!” the ambassador squawked. “This is a horrible misunderstanding! First of all, I would like to clarify I most certainly do not ‘clock out’ and am always available to any representative of any system.”

“Well, Mister Piss-Pants seems to think otherwise.”

The ambassador snickered despite himself.

“Mister Poopy-Britches has a lot he is going to have to explain when he awakens,” the ambassador replied. “Another individual in our Parliament offices has also been apprehended and is being questioned as we speak.”

The Ambassador walked to the head of Veeka’s bed.

“I can assure you that you have my complete and total attention,” he said firmly, “Now, what has Karashel gone and done this time?”

***

“Tired of waiting for me to fucking die?” Mark Black snarled at Jessica’s smiling face. “I’ve lost a dozen men already!”

“The waiting is over, Mark,” Jessica replied. “I’m releasing the plague fleet. Carve Shelly’s name in so deep that those fuckers will be praying to her like the goddess she was. Prepare to receive intel.”

“About fucking time.”

***

“Angels!” Gwen the Elder shouted into a studio microphone looted from some dirt-scratcher or other back in the day (unpacked for just this occasion), “Mount up! The Angels fly again!!!”

Hundreds of vessels filled with howling screams.

Gwen smiled as the noise washed over her. It wasn’t the magic of the Sol Wars…

...but it was close.

***

A similar scene played out as the Dragons, the Thanes, the Knife Children, Los Niños, and all the rest howled and cheered, thousands of ships ripping holes into reality as they slammed into hyperspace.

The moment they had been waiting for was finally at hand.

The dam had burst.

***

Kraak-To opened the door to his new quarters and went to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of chilled wine.

As he poured himself a glass, he sighed wearily.

What had he gotten himself into?

Well, he was the leading expert on those, to borrow a human word, “goddamned” porkies. The Navy had no idea what they were up against.

He took a sip as he turned on the holo.

At least they were asking for help now. With him on board, maybe they—

His doorbell chimed.

“Yes?” he asked, drawing the Terran 9mm, loaded with red tips, that he always kept on him.

“Delivery from Naval Logistics,” a courier announced.

“Please present ID and delivery invoice,” he replied, keeping away from the door.

“Thank you,” he replied after he reviewed and verified the documents. “Please leave the package there. I will retrieve it once you leave.”

“That’s a bit irregular, sir.”

“I don’t particularly care,” Kraak-To replied, “Leave it and go. I am transmitting my electronic signature now. There. Receipt is verified. Your duty is discharged. Put the package down and leave.”

“Ooookay...” the courier replied. ”weirdo...”

Kraak-To smiled at that. The courier was right, but anyone who had spent as long as he had fighting those confederates was at least a little quirky.

He triggered the very good sensors that were part of his “doorbell” and scanned the hallway, ensuring that there was nobody there, and then he directed the sensors towards the package.

It was a naval uniform?

He thought he was getting fitted for one of those tomorrow…

!!!

He lept away from the armored door and sprinted into the bathroom, diving into the thick plastic tub.

Once there, he called emergency ordnance disposal.

***

In a forgotten sewer deep underneath his apartment, a muck-covered lump covered in smuggler’s web grinned.

She liked this one.

He was going to be fun.

She made a few notes, lowered herself into the filth, and disappeared.