Councilor Veeka, wearing an ornate green dress and a fancy hat that resembled an Old-Earth lampshade, waddled out of an armored personnel carrier and into an underground parking lot beneath the Federation Intelligence Agency.

She looked back at it and winced. How could this have happened to her capital? They couldn’t even venture outside anymore for fear of the snipers that they still couldn’t catch…

Unless you were part of Karashel’s coven, of course. They could just walk wherever they pleased.

Veeka scowled.

Too unimportant to be a target, my fuzzy ass, she thought darkly. Those… traitors were in league with Jessica Morgan. Everybody knew it!

But, there was no evidence and, thanks to some first-class psychological and political fuckery by that little pink menace, no further investigation on the matter.

She hissed faintly at the thought of it all. That… slug… played up the whole ideological angle, and they all fell for it. She realized it now. Karashel was no more of a communist than she was. That little fiend was pure, amoral opportunism distilled into a mucus-like ooze, and the second Federation officials started discussing their dangerous ideology in the same breath they discussed their traitorous, criminal actions, they skipped merrily onto one of her slime-laden slopes…

...and she was waiting at the bottom.

There were few protections under the Federation Charter, but the freedom to “navigate one’s own path” was sacred and had some of the greatest protections there were. They were as free to choose “communism” or “communalism” or whatever the Void they were calling it this week as her own people were to govern themselves as a sovereign entity.

The second their ideology was called “dangerous” by official representatives of the Federation, her lawyers unleashed a flurry of suits against everyone involved…

...including Veeka herself.

They had no choice but to back down and let Karashel get away with literal murder.

Creators, she hated Karashel and that… smug slimy smirk of hers. More than once, she caught herself thinking that Federation prison wasn’t that bad. All she had to do was…

No.

Veeka shook herself, her fur bristling. As tempting as the thought of blowing that slug’s brains out was, the Federation was hanging by a thread, and Karashel’s party had an ever-growing stranglehold on food production. If they halted shipments, the Federation would have to intervene, resulting in civil war with dozens of major agricultural systems flocking to the Forsaken.

For all she knew, that was Jessica Morgan’s plan all along. It probably was.

She threw on a false smile and greeted some of her fellow councilors as they debarked their own APCs, and they all proceeded towards the entrance.

***

“Thank you all for coming,” Senior Agent [email protected]@ said pleasantly to the dozens of councilors present, members of the Council Intelligence, Defense, Interior, and Emergency councils, as well as a number of senior Federation Defense officers of all branches that were seated behind thick armored transparent windows above the testing area.

Standing beside him was one of the few humans remaining in service to the Federation, Agent Kareen Smythe.

In front of her was a table on which sat various firearms and boxes of ammunition, and about a dozen yards away were targets, several of which were armored mannequins wearing various Federation gear.

“My name is Senior Agent [email protected]@,” he said in a professional tone, “and I will be...”

“It was my understanding that the Director would be present,” a rather unpleasant-sounding Vulxeen interrupted.

“The Director is rather busy today,” Xree replied with only the faintest twitch of his less damaged ear. “It is not necessary for him to conduct this briefing and demonstration.”

“It’s very disrespectful!” the Vulxeen exclaimed, “Are we not worth his time?”

“It isn’t a question of worth,” Xree replied, “It is a question of what would best serve the Federation’s needs, something I’m sure is a priority for you? We are more than capable of conducting this meeting, but if you would prefer, I’m sure your fellow councilors would have no issue rescheduling.”

“That will be quite alright, Senior Agent,” Veeka said, glaring at the Vulxeen. “I, for one, am very interested in the topic of today’s briefing.”

Her whiskers twitched.

“However, I am concerned about another absence,” she said, “I understood that… Captain… Kraak-To would also be present? I had hoped to consult with him. I have questions concerning the extent of the Forsaken’s logistic network.”

Senior Agent [email protected]@’s nose twitched slightly.

“Captain Kraak-To is… indisposed at the moment,” he said as pleasantly as he could as several members of the Federation Navy shifted uncomfortably.

***

Kraak-To slowly regained consciousness.

Where was he?

What was going on?

He was lying… in a hospital bed?

Had there been yet another attempt on his life?

Hospital!!! There was no way that could be secure! He had to get out!

The fate of the Federation was at stake!!! He tried to sit upright and realized that he was… strapped down?

What?

He started screeching with confusion and alarm.

Shortly thereafter, he heard the soft click of an auto doser.

“No!” he shouted, “I need to speak to someone… I… need… F-federa...tion...”

His eyes curled upward, and he floated off on a warm fuzzy cloud.

***

Across the street, inside a wrecked and abandoned government office building (with a perfectly intact network connection), a lump of smuggler’s webbing munched on a bag of algae munch-ems as she watched Kraak-To through the implants in her eyes which were now networked into the hospital’s security system.

She grinned.

The bird had been so much fun! He had almost been as much fun as the skink!

Reaching into a nearby webbing-covered bag, she pulled out a biofilm-wrapped pastry as she started to activate a suite of advanced intrusion apps and started to delve deeper into the hospital’s systems.

***

On the other side of the city, a human stepped forward and looked up at her audience.

“There is a common misconception concerning Terran weapons,” Agent Smythe said as she addressed the audience.

She held up a Federation blaster.

“This is a weapon,” she said.

She then held up a power cell.

“This is not,” she continued, “Well… It can be turned into one, but it takes some doing.”

She set them down and then picked up an AK-47D.

“This is a weapon,” she said.

She then picked up a single round of 7.62x39.

“However,” she said, “this is also a weapon. In fact, it can be argued that the dreaded AK is secondary to this little nightmare right here.”

She set down the AK and held the cartridge aloft.

“This is an entirely self-contained weapons package consisting of the projectile and the potential energy necessary to send it downrange and can be initiated by nothing more than a firm tap on the base. This is a very important distinction between the weapons entering and now being fabricated within the Federation and anything you are previously used to dealing with,” she said in a professional and matter-of-fact tone. “Yes, gunpowder arms are not unique. In fact, most of your races had them at one point or another during your development.”

She paused for effect.

“However, we humans have elevated them to an unprecedented level,” she said with a trace of pride. “I needn’t tell any of you how effective these weapons can be.”

She picked up a metal tube.

“However, what I do need to make very clear is that it is not the rifle that is so dangerous,” she said as she slid the cartridge into the tube and picked up another section of tubing.

She slid the first tube into the second.

“It is the cartridge!”

She leveled the two pieces of tubing at one of the target dummies and, with an expert flick of the wrist, sent the first tube sliding backwards.

There was a gunshot, and a fist-sized hole was blown out the back of the dummy as the audience gasped.

A cutaway diagram of the two tubes was holographically projected.

“All that is required is a method of containing the pressure generated by the chemical compound in the base of the cartridge and a means of providing a blow to the primer,” Agent Smythe said calmly. “In fact, I built this ‘weapon’ in less than thirty minutes using items and equipment present in our motor pool. It doesn’t even require that.”

She looked gravely at the audience.

“This means that each of those millions of rounds of ammunition that are streaming into the Federation is in and of itself a weapon. It doesn’t matter if there is a ‘gun’ or not.”

She opened a Terran-style cardboard box and pulled out a twelve-gauge shotgun shell.

“These are called ‘shotgun shells,’ and they are being produced at a staggering rate for our black and grey market. They are even more concerning than the AK rounds in that they generate less pressure, are smooth bore which means that those grooves present in the barrels of their rifles are not required, and they deliver much larger or multiple projectiles. A ‘slug’ for one of these ‘shells’ capable of defeating standard infantry armor can be produced very simply and inexpensively, and the only things required to make a ‘shotgun’ are two pieces of any of several standard piping or structural components already manufactured and almost universally abundant.”

She picked up a crude shotgun.

“This was seized at a crime scene here in the capital,” she said as she raised it. “It is called a ‘table leg’ because that is exactly what it is. In one of those grand jests the universe likes to make, it turns out that this widespread fixture happens to have a central bore that exactly fits one of these twelve gauge shells, and the wall thickness is sufficient to contain the pressure. It even has brackets already attached for stocks and other such conveniences.”

She turned it so that its simple workings could be visible in the magnified holographic projection above her head.

“A few hours with some basic tools and a spring salvaged from any number of sources, and you have a weapon capable of taking down an armored trooper.

She loaded the shotgun shell into the shotgun and leveled it at another dummy.

“As you can see,” she smiled as she pulled the trigger.

BOOM

There was a blinding flash as the shotgun detonated, removing most of her head and throwing shrapnel across the demonstration area, knocking Xree to the ground, clutching the side of his face.

As sirens started to screech and the councilors started to scream and trample each other, desperate to escape, Xree crawled over to what was left of his friend.

Something was drifting down all around him.

A moment of panic quickly turned into black rage as he saw what it was…

...hundreds of tiny little yellow smiley faces.

Blood streaming down his ruined face, he cradled his friend’s body and let forth an anguished Xvli war scream.

***

Across town, a wad of webbing giggled happily.

It seemed that a certain race traitor had delivered quite the performance. The old high explosive ammunition trick, it never got old.

Of course, the real trick was getting it into the right box, but that’s why she made the big bucks. Of course, the fact that Fed Intel was one of the few places left where humans actually walked around freely didn’t hurt…

Neither did the fact that almost all of them were traitors by either Terran or Porkie standards. All of them were acceptable collateral damage, like the one who was now lying face down in her apartment, for example.

She took a bit of a risk just waltzing into Fed Intel Headquarters like that, but it was stuff like that that made it fun! Oh, they will undoubtedly be able to figure out “who she was,” and that might be a problem, but she had already decided that this would be her last run.

After this was all over, she was going to retire. She wouldn’t ever be able to top what would happen during this conflict. It was the perfect masterpiece with which to crown her career.

Besides, she really enjoyed gene prospecting. She sighed as she thought about the guys. She really missed them. Maybe she could go back and...

Ooo! It looked like some doctor, or something was walking into birdy’s room.

She hunkered down with a fresh bag of munch-em’s as she watched and listened in.

***

“Look, Doctor,” Kraak-To said urgently, “you don’t understand. I am Captain...”

“Yes,” the Kreneel physician said with a touch of sadness in his voice, “you are Captain Kraak-To of the Federation Navy, formerly Agent Kraak-To of the Ministry of Justice, Financial Crimes Division.”

He leaned forward sympathetically.

“Do you know why you are here, Captain?”

“I have no idea!” Kraak-To exclaimed, “But you have to release me immediately! This hospital is not secure! I have been targeted for assassination by the Forsaken and...”

“Yes,” the doctor said, his feathers ruffling uncomfortably. “I understand you have been through quite the ordeal.”

He consulted his tablet.

“It says here that you claim that there have been over sixty confirmed attempts on your life?”

“At least!” Kraak-To exclaimed, “At least that many! If it isn’t a drone, it’s poison. If it isn’t poison, it’s a roadside bomb! The Hatchet is relentless! If he has been given your name, it’s only a matter of time before they kill you! My security alarms are going off constantly! I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. They have constantly been trying to defeat my defenses. Even when I moved into headquarters, they still pursued me!”

“Yes, Captain,” the doctor replied. “I’m sure that it was very… stressful for you.”

“You have to believe me!” Kraak-To exclaimed.

“I’m not disputing that you believe that there have been attempts on your life,” the doctor said carefully, “You are clearly in fear for your life, but...”

“No evidence was found because the Hatchet cleaned the scene before crime teams could arrive!” Kraak-To yelled, “Of course, they wouldn’t find anything! I have scans! I have proof!”

“We have plenty of time to discuss your proof, Captain,” the doctor smiled reassuringly, “Captain, do you remember why you were admitted?”

“I was attacked!”

The doctor winced.

“You shot someone… with a Terran Red-Tip, Captain.”

“It was a human!” Kraak-To exclaimed, “and they were drawing a weapon!”

The doctor sighed.

“Captain,” he said carefully, “That human was a Federation Naval Officer, and they were not drawing a weapon. They were checking their phone.”

“No! It was a weapon! I saw it!”

Across the street, a bundle of sensor-defeating rags giggled as she munched. He was absolutely correct. He saw exactly what he claimed he did.

It was amazing what the Federation built into their top-of-the-line smartphones. Those holographic mini-theaters were so neat!… and so realistic!

She was totally going to have to buy one!

In the mental ward, Kraak-To was having a moment.

“No!” he screeched, “You’re wrong! It was The Hatchet! He was trying to kill me! C-check my scanner! Please! Check the scanner! It was on!”

“I am sure that there will be a complete investigation, Captain,” the doctor said with a little sigh, “If there was a scanner in your possession and it was on, I’m sure that it will be carefully reviewed.”

“There was a scanner!” Kraak-To screeched, “I always have a scanner! Always!”

Brenda smiled. Kraak-To’s scanner was scramble-sauce. It seemed that someone placed a pocket EMP right next to it when it was placed into evidence. The love a parent has for their child is such a beautiful thing. They will do absolutely anything to keep them safe…

Anything.

“Check the scanner!” Kraak-To screeched. “It will exonerate me! Call the fleet! Call...”

“I can assure you, Captain,” the doctor sighed, “All applicable individuals and agencies have been notified. Is there anyone else you would like to have called, family perhaps?”

“No, because I have no intention of remaining in this death trap!” Kraak-To yelled. “There is a reason why Jessica Morgan herself wants me dead! I am the foremost expert on their organization and...”

“I can assure you that you are perfectly safe here,” the doctor replied. “This is a very secure wing in a very secure hospital, and guards are posted right outside. Nobody can hurt you in here.”

“You’re wrong!” Kraak-To shouted, “you don’t know what they are like! They are going to kill me! Untie me! Please! They are on the way if they aren’t here already!”

The doctor clicked his beak reassuringly, causing Kraak-To to screech with rage.

“I’m going to give you a little something to relax you, calm you down a bit,” the doctor clucked reassuringly. “then, after a good night’s sleep, we can try again, yes?”

“No!” Kraak-To screamed. “You don’t understand! Please!”

The doctor sighed and left the room.

On his way off the floor, he paused by the nurse’s station, where a strapping Threen sat proudly.

“Nurse,” the doctor said politely, “I trust that a full scan has been made of Captain Kraak-To?”

“Yes, Doctor,” the nurse growled.

“Please send me everything, and, if you could, could you do another detailed imaging of his brain and central nervous system.”

“Doctor?”

“There is something off about this one,” he said pensively, “It is very unusual for a Kreneel to exhibit full-bore psychosis with delusions and hallucinations, even under the most trying circumstances. When our minds break, we go catatonic, not homicidal.”

“Must be nice,” the Threen growled, causing the doctor to chuckle.

“I suppose so,” he replied. “Program in three milliliters of Gvaarkaltan every six hours for now.”

“Three milliliters?” the Threen asked in surprise.

“He is experiencing extreme distress,” the doctor replied, “I think a nap would do him good...”

The doctor smiled.

“And I suspect your ears could use a break. A distressed Kreneel can’t be pleasant on those Threen ears.”

The Threen smiled back.

“I’ll order the dosage immediately,” the Threen replied.

***

Kraak-To struggled against the straps, trying to get free. What they said couldn’t be true.

He saw the gun. He saw it!

There was a quiet “click” as the auto doser delivered a 3ml squirt of a powerful tranquilizer into his IV.

Then there was another “click”…

And then there was a “clickclickclickclickclickclickclick...” as the auto doser cycled again and again.

Kraak-To tried to scream, but all that came out was a sigh as his eyes rolled back, and he floated away on a warm fuzzy cloud.

***

In the same hospital, a very unhappy Xvli awoke.

“Darling!” his fiancé shouted as she rushed to his side.

“Well,” Xree sighed, “at least my ears match now… Wait… Did I lose a fucking eye?!?”

“That you did,” Gvx-Taa, his boss, snickered. “Fortunately for you, Xvli skulls are like titanium. We’ll have a prosthetic consultant drop by first thing in the morning. I assume you want an upgrade?”

“Might as well,” Xree muttered.

He squeezed his bride-to-be’s hand.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I know you had your heart set on marrying a handsome man.”

“I have my heart set on you, you asshole!” she replied as she carefully hugged him. “Besides, real women dig scars… and we can get your ears repaired,” she added after a moment. “Seriously, those things are shredded.”

Xree laughed until he coughed.

“Maybe I can get them done like that actor you like,” Xree said, still coughing.

“Now there’s a thought!” his fiancé laughed. “I could have the Black Archer except for real!”

They both laughed for a moment.

Xree pulled her in close for a kiss.

“Darling,” he said gently, “the boss-man and I need to have a little chat. Could you maybe go for a walk for a few minutes?”

“I’ll go and get you some of that awful human coffee,” she said as she kissed him on the nose and loped off.

He sighed and shook his head.

“I have no idea what she sees in me,” he chuckled.

“Me either,” Gvx-Taa chuckled.

“It was the fucking Hatchet,” Xree said.

“I know,” Gvx-Taa replied, “We are still picking up all the little yellow ‘smileys’.”

“They killed Kareen,” Xree glowered, “Fucking killed her in our home!”

“Yeah.”

“I want them,” Xree snarled. “Give them to me, and I will find them.”

Gvx-Taa nodded.

“Pull your team off of the Forsaken,” he said, “You have absolute free reign. Hunt that piece of shit down.”

“Yes, sir,” Xree snarled.

“I’ll get Jaxona to get Kalent tech authorized for your eye,” Gvx-Taa said. “They owe us a favor or three. More importantly, they owe Axlea. They want that pore as much as we do.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Jaxona nervously entered the room.

“Ah, speak of the devil,” Gvx-Taa said.

“Um...” Jaxona said nervously, “Do you have something to spit in? It’s about Kraak-To...”

Moments later, everyone on the floor jumped as a Xvli and a Xneel howled with rage.

***

A few hours later, deep beneath the capital city, a bundle of dirty webbing dropped out of a ventilation shaft and into a large, freshly dug tunnel.

While the tunnel was deathly silent, giant open-topped grav carts drifted past every few moments, fully loaded with dirt and rocks.

Brenda trotted alongside one for a few moments before grabbing the side and climbing up onto the pile of dirt it was carrying.

She kicked back on the pile and opened a juice box and another bio-film wrapped pastry.

Today was fun!

As she sipped and munched, she pulled out a slip of old-fashioned cellulose-based paper.

Now, who’s next?