Dedicated
To Jill, because individualism is not a bad word
To Jessica, because forgiveness is not a bad word
To Brittany, because variation is not a bad word
To God, because she's not a bad word


Author's note
Perhaps the best thing after boiling a soup is the finally sitting down to eat it. Operation Genesis was on hold for years while I engaged in more pressing projects. It boiled slowly in the back of my mind, sparks of it accidentally influencing other stories and movie scripts. Then when finally it was time to let the muse sing and write it down, it exploded like a volcano in a perfect harmony of writer and muse. Within a month, maddening record time for me, the first version of this story was already set and ready. And just as the waiting and effort make the soup taste better, so did the waiting and boiling in my own creativity enhance the experience, turning the writing of Lilith: Operation Genesis into a unique experience unparalleled by anything I've ever had before. After years of sticking to realism, action/suspense and fantasy, going back to Sci-Fi has been a pleasure and the result, I hope, will be a thrilling ride for you, the readers.
Ehud Gat, January 20th 2008


Lilith: Operation Genesis






















The First Transition
"This time he will break down
She's lost his trust
And so she must
Know all is lost
The system has broke down"

The Corrs - Old Town


Colonel's log, day 8 A.L.C, Torbaine

8 days since the last contact with Earth. All our attempts to raise home with any sort of hyperwave communication have failed. We can wait no longer. The HSS Hussaria has departed to Earth.
From the embassy's rooftop, I used a telescope to view the ship as it translated into Hyperspace for a two days journey to Earth. With a blazing trail of light, Hussaria disappeared. Being the only fully armed warship we have here, I almost regretted seeing her go but what other choice do we have? The possible reasons for this loss of contact merit sending a military ship. Aside for the HSS Hussaria, the only other military vessel we have here is Amy and a lightly armed Infiltrator craft is hardly the right vehicle for such a task. 
Rumors spread around the city already. Ever since the Orions overwhelmed Tau Ceti Prime three months ago, leaving this backwater as the only other human colony outside Sol, everyone feared Earth may be next. True, the Orions did not destroy T-C Prime but chose to force us out of the system by virtue of threatening to nuke the planet into a radioactive ash. However, it is not unlikely to expect that if they finally decided to bring the war into Sol system, they would not choose such a bloodless solution. 
It is 8 days after the Earth went off the screens. There's no sound from Earth, nor from the 81 orbital colonies and colonized moons in Sol system. There's no way to tell for sure but fear is abound that we are the last humans anywhere in this galaxy. 

The situation remains under control here in Rhea but for how long? 50,000 men, women and children are hanging on to thin threads of hope. Unless contact is renewed soon, I fear riots will begin. The scenarios for such events are pretty clear on this. Human psyche may be extremely different from one person to another but as a group I fear humans tend to be pretty predictable and not in a good manner. The belief that society as we know it came to an end would cause rioting, looting, random crime sprees. Soon enough any attempt to hold on to the old version of society would be suicidal. 
If and when that happens, local defense forces will probably be overwhelmed within a day. We've never expected the Orions to find this human terraforming colony. The Beta Serpentis system is way out of the normal space lanes and whoever would expect a blue star to contain a habitable planet around it anyways? There was no need for anything other than a bunch of militia troops to hold back the local Targs and Frells. 120 militiamen, not a single marine, that is what the colony here boasts. Now, though, I am worried. 120 militiamen on this planet. 120. Whoever would have expected a need for more? I would, for one. But I am a Marine. I always want more firepower than I can have. 

Embassy personnel would be issued with weapons of self defense today, by order of Ambassador Berkley.  Personally, I can't disagree more with his decision. If riots were to occur, does he expect the embassy personnel to fare any better than others? Does he expect them to keep lawfulness while all hell breaks loose around them? 

All ties severed, I fear lawlessness is going to be the only winner. Even the local defense militiamen aren't likely to keep to their discipline for long. I fear anarchy will reign supreme upon this planet if it happens, and the 20 Panthers I have with me here are not enough to prevent it. They are the best. The elite. The cream of the space marines. This tour of duty, hunting Targs in the jungles of this planet, it is almost a vacation for them. After the latest operation on Vega, they deserve it. Most of the regiment remained at home, practicing Horace's ancient wisdom, 'a wise man in times of peace prepares for war'. The 20 men I brought here are the ones who deserve special recognition. The Vega operation was a time for heroism, one can say. So, they were given an assignment most people would consider a perilous and arduous task as a prize. Lana and Pauline openly call it "the Rhea R&R". After facing the Orions up close and personal, Targs really seem like a vacation. But they are only 20 Panthers. Rhea may go into such upheavals it would require an army to control. A core group of commandoes isn't going to be enough to maintain order. 

Conjecture: if Earth was indeed overwhelmed, it is likely that we are the only humans left alive in the universe or at least the only free humans. Like as not it will be up to me and my Panthers to gather people and protect them as we rebuild an orderly society. 

Ponder this: why was there no warning? Earth just went offline without any warning of Orions attacking. You'd think that even if the Orions surprised the defending fleet and orbital defense stations, someone would manage to send out word



Lilith, 8 A.L.C, Torbaine 
Footsteps thudded along the entrance hallway. A pair of heavy leather boots, covered by rattlesnake-skin, strode decisively towards the two militiamen in the entrance to the main dinning hall. They wore official blue and white uniforms which looked impressive but were both uncomfortable and offered no real defense of any kind. Their weapons were military-issue IFF-4 Phaseguns, the double-barrel version that could shoot both automatic Phaseray bolts and a continuously-firing beam. 
"ma'am" one of them raised a gloved hand, "this area is off limit to civilians. I'm going to have to ask you to step back. If you are here for government services, crowd entrance is over that way".
The bounty huntress snorted. "And who says I am a civilian?" she said, "let the scanners decide that".
There was a biometric scanner next to the door. She approached it with the two militiamen holding nervously to their Phaseguns behind her. The bio-scanner had a retinal scanning camera and a lining of eight light bulbs, pairs of red, yellow, green and blue ones. She let the thing scan her right eye - her left wasn't appropriate for retinal scans - and as expected, it blipped twice, lighting both green bulbs. "There," the bounty huntress shrugged, "happy now?"
"Level six clearance?" the militiamen stretched to attention and saluted, "ma'am, apologies, we were unaware-"
"And best keep it that way," the bounty huntress cut in tersely, "let's just say that you did not see that second green light go on".
"Yes ma'am!" the militiamen saluted. You did not argue with people who had that kind of clearance - level 6 was normally reserved for One-star generals, commodores and the likes. 
"Carry on," she passed them, walking through the door into the crowded dining hall. Some genius designed the large hall in a minimalist 2050s fashion, she saw, the low ceiling supported by four spiraling recycled-metal columns that seemed like a DNA double helix to her. The walls themselves were made of Rhean wood in shades of brown and grey. Well, she shrugged, retro must have been the fashion in architecture again when they built this place. All this antique mess seemed useless to her. A mess hall needed to serve food, not look good. The tables - there were 10 of them all in all, were made of local stone, covered by grey plates made of Rhean Evergreen bark. The two things Rhea had most, she thought dryly, wood and stone. The chairs were aligned next to the walls, pushed aside to make way for the huddled crowd. The embassy personnel - the colonial government if you wish - were all dressed in full suits or dresses. Only faces and hands wee left uncovered. Rhea's blue sun, Beta Serpentis, was far less friendly than Earth's orange one. Skin problems and cases of melanoma were frequent in this corner of the galaxy. Of course, it didn't matter much to her. Her health was always perfect. But to those people who lived here, occasional cancer treatment vacations were common. She heard somewhere that the average Rhean colonist spent eight days a year in cancer treatments. Such a waste of good time, that.

People turned to look at her as she stepped in. she wore loose jungle camouflage trousers and a black tank top. Garbed like that, she was as out of place among all these suits as a lioness among zebras. Her hair was raven-black, falling in locks around her face. Her eyes cat-like greenish, glimmering fiercely. She was a short and slender predator - her stature only rising to 165 centimeters. However, her posture conveyed a subliminal warning. She was the kind of woman you'd expect to see carrying a large-caliber pistol, a Japanese Katana sword or a whip. She had a pair of entwined snakes tattooed on her left biceps. She wore skull earrings and had a round silver piercing in her right nostril. She knew that everything about her suggested violence and was proud when other people picked up that hidden message. She ignored the looks, eyeing the tables with a quirked eyebrow. Most of the embassy personnel were crowded alongside two tables where an array of Handlasers, barely deadly in the range of five meters, and several types of non-lethal weapons were spread. She shrugged and moved onwards. She was not interested in toys. There were less people with the clearance needed to arm themselves with the Handphasers arrayed on the second batch of tables but she didn't care for small handguns either. A Phaseray bolt is only as strong as the phase-chamber that produced it and those Handphasers had a phase-chamber she'd call negligible, if she bothered admitting it was something at all. Oh, they would kill your average human, she thought. Of course they would. But only at a range of 20 meters and only if you hit something vital. She wanted real weapons. Only a handful of personnel were huddled around the next couple of tables. 'Enforcer' heavy Phase Pistols, IFF Phaseguns and Laser rifles, she saw. Those were true military weapons. She smiled to herself. Enforcers were pointless. She expected to put her hands on better sidearms. The laser rifle could shoot the ear off a man's head from 1500 meters, she knew. She did just that once, not so long ago. However, it was a large, cumbersome thing. She wanted comfort too. She elbowed her way through and reached for an IFF-4 automatic Phasegun. The manufacturer, M-Power Military Industries, called the double-barreled sub-machinegun 'Conquistador' but it was the 4th M-Power version of an IFF-equipped Phasegun and the simpler nickname IFF-4 stuck. This was the kind of weapon she liked. Light and accurate, it had the muzzle-speed of 120 rounds per minute and the continuous-beam was even deadlier, albeit costlier on the powerpack. 
"Not bad," she hummed to herself, allowing the IFF-4's bioscan to confirm her clearance and then pulling the strap over her head. She grabbed two extra powerpacks for the gun. Easily-rechargeable, three IFF-4 powerpacks should last her for an eternity. She noticed questioning looks from the people around her. She snorted and ignored them. She had clearance for Militia-grade weapons, as the bioscan just confirmed, and anyone who didn't know who she was, didn't have the clearance to know who she was. Then, with a slight condescending smile hovering over the edges of her mouth, she turned and approached the last table. Three armed marines stood there, armored to their necks with the marine all-purpose combat armor suit. It was black right now but the huntress knew it could easily change colors or turn nigh-invisible, the photoelectric gloss surface capable of rapidly changing colors to merge with the background like the Earth's Chameleons or Rhea's own Targs. The Marines' leader, holding an M-Power IX-2 APG rifle was a blonde woman, though the short-cropped hair beneath her black beret and her emotionless face may have been male as well. Her jaw was square and set firm, full of sharp angles, with not a single hint of feminine gentleness in it. Her blue eyes could have been crystals of ice. She was stocky, not taller than the bounty huntress herself, but much wider. She seemed built to play Tackler in a Gravball team and the determined way her jaw was set in only bolstered that impression. The bounty huntress had no doubt that had this woman went head to head against Thannis "The Mauler" Parish, it would be Moonport Avengers' celebrated Central Tackler that would lose. The blonde didn't look directly at the bounty huntress yet the latter knew she was watching her. Two thin stripes of yellow on both shoulders pointed out that she was a Major, most likely a platoon commander in her regiment. The name tag above her left breast identified her simply as "Briggs". 
"I think you're approaching the wrong tables," said one of the other marines, a first sergeant with a Tennessee Astrocolony accent - or somewhere in orbit around Venus, she thought. The rednecks were all from T.AC and A.O.1 - Alabama Orbiter One. 
Those marines were Panthers, the bounty huntress knew, they were commandoes, part of the 31st Regiment, the Black Panthers. She could tell. 
"Not so, soldier," she replied coldly, "step back".
The Panther stood aside, allowing her to approach. However, it was obvious that he didn't believe her. 
"These are military high-grade weapons, ma'am, even militia don't have clearance for them" he objected, despite her confident approach.
The bounty huntress shrugged. She eyed the blonde Panther again. Briggs gave no sign that she noticed her at all. Her eyes were staring at a different direction. Shrugging again, the bounty huntress sent her hand and picked up an APG Rifle, akin to the ones carried by those commandoes. It was 80 CMs long, heavy and squat, sporting eight barrels of different kinds. The All-Purpose-Gun was a modular weapon, equipped with a large Phase chamber, a particle liner and a plasma chamber, combined to create any kind of Phaseray, plasma, laser or right about anything their owners would ever require. It was the kind of gun that she liked. Flexibility, she knew, was superior to brute force in combat. It was not the strong that survived, she thought. In the Darwinist universe, it was the ready that did. 
The two male Panthers eyed her, expecting the weapon's bioscanner to zap her for unauthorized usage. It did not - the last time any bioscanner didn't approve of her has been when she tried to steal a Sports Hover on Titan 5, at age 17. The marines had the decency of not showing their disappointment when it didn't. She snorted, flicking the safety off, switching the APG to use single shot IFF Phase and aiming it at Major Briggs. It was a taunt of sorts. The IFF - Identify Friend or Foe - system would automatically prevent any shot in that direction from having lethal power. The transponder on the APG identified a direct line to a second friendly IFF transponder and both guns blipped an urgent warning tone. M-Power knew what they were doing, the bounty huntress thought lazily. Her blip would warn her that she is aiming at a friendly target, the other blip would warn the target that it might just be in the way. In this close proximity, the IFF warnings were loud, overlapping each other. You had to be deaf not to hear them.
The blonde Panther may as well have been deaf. She stood as still as a statue, ignoring the IFF warnings. The other two commandoes eyed the women in surprise. Obviously the two sergeants did not expect to see any one daring to taunt their Major, nor did they expect the Major to ignore it. It was, the bounty huntress thought, almost funny. 
"Nice gun, this one," the bounty huntress snickered, "really puts the good old IX-1B APG to shame". 
She flicked the safety catch back on and pulled the strap around her neck. She grabbed two APG powercells, strapping them with Velcro stripes to her newly acquired gun. The IX-2 was her kind of weapon, no doubt. Far more versatile and powerful than the limited IFF-4, it was a first-line weapon, designed to target Orions and to offer a counter to whatever they may pull for protection. It fit her like a katana fit a samurai, she thought. Oh well, she added to herself in a moment of honesty, more like a katana for a ronin, but she was hardly bothered by the morality of her causes.
She reached for a pistol belt next, putting her right hand on the hilt of one of the two heavy duty semi-automatic "Redeemer" Plasma Pistols. These were not the same as the lesser grade phase weapons the militiamen had, she knew. The ionized gas pellets they shot packed enough heat to melt through an Orion's chest plate with a single shot - exactly what they were designed to do. They were what she would deem as a shoot-once weapons - one shot was all it took to incapacitate an enemy, no matter where you hit. She strapped the pistol belt around her waist with a slight, crooked smile once again hovering over her lips. She has not been this well armed since the she fought the Orions on the icebergs of Pollux Prime. 
One last thing remained. Thinking of the explosive trap she sprang on the Orions in Pollux, she reached for a cluster of thermal grenades. Back in Pollux, the effect took even her by surprise. Those grenades were? hot. 
A hand came over hers as she caught the cluster, causing her to stop in mid-motion. She turned her head right, meeting the questioning eyes of the Panther's commander, a man she knew was Colonel Adam Santiago. She almost met him once, during the HSS Proetus business. His skin tanned, some early specks of grey already forming in his black hair, the Panther commander's brown eyes showed curiosity. He spoke a perfectly intellectual English but his accent had a hint of Spain in it and she would have bet on Andalusia as his origin point. He was in a day off, no doubt, wearing khakis and a long-sleeved V-neck sports shirt. There was a small golden cross on his chest, next to his ID tag. Both hung outside his shirt.
"Do you need something, Colonel?" she said sharply, letting him know she knew who he was.
"You have the advantage over me," he replied calmly, "I do not believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you before". 
She did not accept the invitation to introduce herself. She stood still, her green glimmering eyes staring fiercely into his.
"Are you arming yourself to fight the all Orions by yourself?" he asked when he realized she won't say anything.
"I like to be prepared," she replied tersely. 
She did not like the interruption. As far as she knew, the 31st regiment was supposed to be out there in the front, not here, in the middle of nowhere. Marines were a possible complication for her task. They were nosy and tended to show up when most unneeded. One was so much better when they were far far away from one's location. 
Colonel Santiago eyed her silently. Clearly he expected more than that for an answer. The bounty huntress grunted. He wasn't going to get anything more than she already gave him. 
"Isn't it your own regiment's motto, colonel?" she said, "Simper paratus? Forever Prepared? Wouldn't you tell your troops to prepare for the worst so you'll have only good surprises?"
"That is the Panther motto," he replied evenly, "you, however, are no Panther. For that matter, you don't seem to be a Marine at all. This makes the fact you have clearance for high-grade marine weaponry intriguing. As the highest ranking Space Corps officer on this planet, I like to know where Space Corps weapons and munitions go. Who are you? How come you have such a clearance?"
She pulled her hand, with the cluster of grenades in it, from beneath his hand. "If you need to ask that," she said, "you don't have clearance to know the answer. It's that simple".
The colonel shrugged. He was probably used to getting such answers. Good. Colonels had the obnoxious tendency to be nosy.
"And you're expecting some serious fighting," he observed. 
He was curious, she could tell, but he didn't seem overtly hostile or suspicious. She was a mystery for this man, not a threat.
"I came here to hunt Frells," she shook her head, quirking an eyebrow slyly, "It's 5 credits for each Frell horn you bring to the embassy, you know. A good hunter could make a fortune overnight". 
"Thermals are not used to hunt Frells" the colonel said, "unless you have the talent to reconstruct a vaporized horn and sell it. Frell hunting would hardly merit heavy combat APGs too. Oh well, I can see getting a straight answer from you would take more time and effort than I can invest right now. May I at least ask after your name?"
The bounty huntress flashed him a smile. Why not? She thought. "The name is Lilith," she said, cocking her head slightly, "Lilith Sanders, a bounty huntress for hire".
"A pleasure to be sure," Colonel Santiago nodded politely, "I'm sure that if I'll have a bounty on someone's head I'll call you. Now, I'd love to stay but this isn't the time. Felix, Leash, come with me. Lookouts at the north quarter spotted a band of Targs in the forest. They might be after the cows out there. Lana, you watch over this place. Make sure nobody does anything stupid. Farewell, Lilith Sanders. I've a feeling we'll meet again".
He turned and walked away, the two male Panthers following him. As he moved, people stepped out of his way. It was obvious that the embassy personnel knew him and respected him. 
"Nice C.O." the bounty huntress chuckled, her eyes following the leaving marines. "A pleasure to be sure. What say, Major Briggs?"
The sound of a safety catch flicking off made her turn. Finally, the blonde Panther acknowledged her existence. She turned towards the bounty huntress and aimed her APG Rifle. The gun was set in multi-frequency Laser mode. 
"Deadly, that mode" the bounty huntress chuckled again, "is that the way you greet an old friend, Lana?"
The Panther's ice-cold eyes glared at her for a long moment. Then she lowered the APG, flicking the safety back on. Lilith didn't expect anything else. Lana Briggs would not shoot her in public. It would cause too much commotion, require too many explanations. Lana was never the kind of person to cause commotion, the bounty huntress thought. She was too much of a farm girl, shy and in a way still innocent, despite everything. 
"Fuck off, Lilith," the blonde said, her voice dripping venomous hatred, "I don't know what you think you're doing here, but I bet it's nothing good. Go on, fuck off, before I change my mind".
"Ooh," Lilith shook her head, waving a finger at the marine Major. This was her kind of game. "Temper temper, Lana. I was just making acquaintance with your direct commander, that's all".
"You may as well have introduced yourself as Trouble," said Lana coldly, "Big Trouble. A problem for sure".
"Thank you," Lilith chuckled again. She was insulted, to be frank, and quite disappointed. However she knew how to keep a façade of carelessness when she needed to. "I'm glad to see you haven't changed much since our last meeting. Clearly talking to you is a waste of time. I'll be off now, Subject Five-Five-Oh-One. Try to remember who your friends are".
The bounty huntress turned away, taking her leave. 
Lana watched her walk out of the door. For a long time she was still, her blue eyes frozen. Finally she shuddered and shook her head. 
"I do remember, Lily" she sighed to herself, "that is exactly the problem".


Colonel's log, day 10 A.L.C, Torbaine
Still no news from Earth. According to my timetable, the Hussaria should have arrived at Earth an hour ago. There's no contact with her. I'm worried more than anyone would be able to see. By all means, the first thing the Hussaria should have done once translating back from Hyperspace to Truespace was to send some sort of Hyperwave signal to let us know at least that she has arrived, if naught else. Nothing though. This is terrible news. This leaves our Amy as the only military ship here and without any further knowledge I will not risk her in another attempt to reach Earth. There are several merchant ships as well but all of them would be useless in a combat situation, likely to be vaporized as soon as they just smelled an Orion ship. Therefore for now we must remain in the dark regarding whatever has happened in Sol system.

First signs of dissent yesterday - a calm gathering of crowd in front of the Embassy blocked traffic in the main concourse of Torbaine for two hours. The crowd was calm, just demanding answers. One might take it for a good sign but not me. This could change very very quickly once news of the ominous silence from the HSS Hussaria are made public. The ambassador went out and gave a short speech to assure the crowd that the embassy is doing everything they can to ascertain what's going on. Unfortunately he pointed out that the Hussaria was dispatched and while it seemed a good move at first, I can't help but wonder what the crowd's reaction would be once they learned that the embassy comm personnel could not raise HSS Hussaria on any channel, no matter what they tried. 

Something terrible has happened on Earth and I fear trouble is brewing here on Rhea too. It's like one of those November days in Malaga. The day could be sunny and the weather clear and even warm and then suddenly some storm brews up out in the sea near Palma de Mallorca and strike the coast before you could say "Siesta".

A troubling but interesting anecdote is that while I felt secure at first that my Panthers, with their deep discipline and honed courage, would be able to contain whatever disquiet they feel themselves, this certainty is wavering. Of all my troops, the one I trust most is the one who seems to be troubled. Lana is? edgy. I tried approaching her but she shrugged it off saying it is personal, has nothing to do with the current situation and will not affect her performance or reliability in any way. I have always respected the secrets she keeps and so I pushed no further. I wish I could believe she is simply having that time of the month when a female body is going a bit loco but if so, it has never showed before and it would take a better liar than me to convince me that this is the root of her disquiet. 

Conjecture: cut from their roots, people are likely to go berserk. Riots would turn to looting, pillaging, revolt. Lacking anyone else to blame, people would turn to the embassy as the ones responsible to this catastrophe. The law and order in Torbaine and the neighboring settlements would be shattered. In a dog eat dog world, few would be able to maintain morals higher than those of a canine. 

Ponder this: it took three Orion "Nemesis" class cruisers five minutes to breach the hull of HSS Seraph and bring her down. Even then, when we came to examine the crashed hull, we found no less than 22 survivors, after the attack and the crash itself. Hussaria's Proto-zortium armor is even thicker than what the Seraph had and she was already alert and expecting trouble. Even supposing the ship fell right into the jaws of a deadly an immediate deathtrap, what could possibly prevent the Hussaria from at least sending a distress signal out? 



Lilith, 10 A.L.C, Wilt's Rim
Green bolts of charged particles tore the jungle canopy from below. The Frell, a grown one, dodged and avoided bolt after bolt. One had to be impressed by how the creature foresaw and dodged the deadly Phaserays. It didn't take those large aviaries long to learn that death was carried on those green arrows, much like it was carried on the Thorny Rhean Basilisk's hurled tail stings. Even though humans were new to Beta Serpentis system, new to the planet they called Rhea, those native birds of prey already knew how to dodge bolts. Keen on preying upon the small reptilians, Frells evolved with an intimate knowledge of the art of dancing between dangerous objects flying at them in high speeds. All it took was adaptation and Frells were considered smart, for a simple avian. Seven hunters were chasing this Frell, hoping to soon add the thick brown ivory horn it sported on its nose to 5 horns they already had. Like any other native predator on this planet the Frells were being beaten back away from human settlements, being forced away more and more as terraforming of the planet - too hot, too humid and with a dangerously high concentrations of H and O2 in the atmosphere - progressed. 
The Frell shrieked as it hovered above a small clearing. Its intelligence about up to par with that of our Earth's feline predators, the Frell knew how to hunt humans. Frells were apt to bringing down the bipedal Rhean Grass Dogs (which, contrary to their looks, were herbivorous and couldn't be more different than Earth's canines). Humans were not very different. With another shriek it folded its leathery wings, diving down like a laser-guided smart bomb, just as the humans entered the clearing. They raised their guns - civilian grade hunting Phaseguns - and froze in fear at the large body falling towards them at a terrible speed. 
In theory, the bounty huntress noted to herself from her vantage point, the Frell was almost a sitting duck, making a beeline dive towards the hunters. All they needed is to aim and shoot. It wasn't really all that hard - they had all of three seconds to do that - an eternity for the well-trained armed warrior. But they were neither warriors nor well trained, it seemed. The hunters froze at first and then tried to scatter. Frells, the bounty huntress noted to herself with a silent chuckle, were better than humans at playing 'Chicken'. 
The Frell spread its wings at the last possible moment, hitting a hunter with its forelimbs, clawing frenziedly at the man's chest. 30 kilograms at speed in excess of 50 Kilometers per hour, the bounty huntress calculated, the force of the collision was enough to kill the hunter all by itself. The Frell swung its horned nose - it wasn't a bird's beak to be sure, all squat and fat, reminiscent of a pig's nose - and impaled a second hunter. Then, with a powerful beat of wings it released its hold on the first victim and took back to the air, leaving two fallen hunters behind. 
The whole encounter lasted about two seconds, the bounty huntress saw. These Frells knew their work. Given another 100,000 years of evolution they may reach intelligence up to par with the Lik'shors, the simple aviary beings of Pollux Prime, who already had a spoken language and made crude tools. 
As the Frell took back to the air, a dozen Phaseray bolts followed but the hunters hands were shaking and the avian dodged skillfully. From a tactical standpoint, it was a classic guerilla counter-attack made to disrupt harrying armies while on the retreat. You turned when they weren't expecting, gave a quick pounding and then turned and kept on running before the enemy could react. Frells were surprisingly tactical, she thought. 
The remaining five hunters gave chase. It was the Frell's only weakness, the bounty huntress knew - she studied the ways of these Rhean aviaries - that it could not fly high and remained close to the treetops, thus an easy target to follow. 

The hunters pursued noisily through the thicket. The Frell was getting tired, having been pursued for two hours already. Humans had a better staying power, normally. However, the bluish sun has set a few minutes before that clash and the Frell saw better in the double-mooned darkness than humans. Its two eyes perceived the hunters as red signatures of heat, slowing down too as the darkness limited their sight. Finally, it circled above an ancient wide tree and descended slowly. It knew that the humans, almost half a kilometer behind it now, would be hard pressed to find it as it perched on a limb and watched them. It landed without a sound and kept an eye open for the hunters. They were approaching in its general direction but uncertain. They did not know where it was anymore. 
The exhausted aviary never noticed the nimble shadow creeping above it, perched on the limb of another tree. 

Jasen led his friends through the thicket. "I told you we should have brought nightvision equipment," he muttered, "I don't know how you guys expect to find that beast in this darkness".
"The second moon will rise in an hour, Jasen" replied one of them, "and I'll be damned if I go back to Torbaine without that bugger's horn. It killed James and Avery!"
"Risks of the trade," a new voice startled them, coming almost directly above them. There was the sound of a heavy body falling through the branches and the body of the Frell, bleeding from a single puncture wound in the back of the neck, came crashing down in front of them. They looked up and could barely make out a silhouette jumping from limb to limb, climbing down fast and flexibly, employing hands and legs as she climbed almost 15 meters down in less than a minute. She dropped the last meter and a half and landed on all four limbs. 
The bounty huntress rose and stood victorious over her fallen prey. She lit a cigarette and shrugged at the other hunters. She was not really here to cash in on Frell horns but the sudden dangerous quiet coming from Earth has thrown a wrench in her plans and she decided to spend a day stalking Frells. She followed the beast all day long, hours before the hunters located it, watching with keen interest while remaining undetected. She was quite certain that the Frell hasn't noticed her even once up to the point when she slipped her knife point into the back of its skull for an instant kill. Frells were wary targets, which made stalking them much more of a challenge than killing them, she thought to herself. Stalking the Frell was sort of a competition for her, even if the other side didn't know there was one. Well, she thought slyly, the Frell lost the competition. No medals for second place. 
"Your friends knew the risks," she said, dragging on her cigarette, "usually you get the Frell. Sometimes, the Frell gets you". 
She drew her combat knife, still whitish from the blood of the Frell, and knelt down near the fallen beast. 
"Hey, wait there, missy," the man called Jasen intoned, "That's our Frell".
"I killed it," she shrugged, taking another careless drag on her cigarette, "first and only horn I get tonight, I guess. I've earned it".
"We didn't chase it halfway across Wilt's Rim just to have some girl take the horn from us," said Jasen, "so you just get going, girl, and nothing bad's gonna happen".
The bounty huntress stood up. "How many horns did you get today?" she asked casually.
"Five," said one of the hunters. 
"So, twenty five creds in that bag," she said, "and another five credits for this little critter. Thirty creds. Not bad for a day's work".
"Aye," Jasen nodded, "it's nothing personal missy. Like you said, risks of the trade".
"Hell yeah," she said, "but do you know the risks, man? I mean, just now you ran head-on into one of them". 
"I lost it," said Jasen, scratching his chin in confusion. It was truly one odd remark.
"You never had it," the bounty huntress took another drag on the cigarette. As the burning end of the cigarette flashed, it caused her eyes to sparkle in a way that one could describe as 'menacingly confident'. She sheathed her combat knife and threw away the butt of the cigarette. 
"See," she said, "You chased the Frell two kilometers or so, right from that fallen tree trunk. I've seen you. I've seen you because I was already stalking this bugger all day long. Want to know what he had for lunch? Never mind, bad joke. Anyways, I'd say I've earned this horn and guess what? I'm not letting a bunch of two-bit buggers like you take that horn from me. Now, here's the deal. You just threatened me. I don't react well to threats. So we can do this my way or the easy way. The easy way would be that I take your 30 creds worth of horns and since I like gifts, I forgive your mistake and we all go our separate ways. Then we can do it my way. My way? would hurt more, I'm afraid".
"You're joking?" the hunter looked at her in puzzlement, "we're five and you're one and you're not even armed besides that knife. What kind of joke do you think this is?"
Her eyes narrowed. "My favorite kind," she hissed and lunged forward.

Lilith was better at playing 'Chicken' than most humans.






Colonel's log, day 11 A.L.C, Torbaine

So the troubles begin. Rumors of the ominous silence from the Hussaria spread. The four militiamen in the square in front of the embassy face around 300 angry protestors demanding to know what information we have. For some reason the mob thinks we are withholding information from them as to the fate of the Hussaria and Earth for that matter. Foolishness. 

I placed a formal recommendation on Ambassador Berkley's desk today, suggesting evacuation of important technical personnel and the ambassador himself with his staff to the safety of Station 4, on the other side of the Great Snake Gorge. 300 KMs long and 50 meters deep in some places, this natural abyss can form a barrier between them and the general population centers. With that safety, it is likelier that they would survive the upheaval to come. And it is coming. Make no mistake, it is coming. I beg Jesus to make a miracle and prove me wrong at least once an hour but I doubt something like that would happen. Colonel Escobar encouraged me to trust my gut feelings and to this day they have not misled me even once. I keep hoping for a miracle but at the same time keep preparing for the worst. For as Horace said, a wise man uses times of peace to prepare for war.

The discontent among the civilians is rising. There haven't been any violent incidents yet but it occurs to me that it will not take long before those break out. Tension is visibly mounting in the general population of Torbaine. We are sitting on a time bomb here and the fuse has already been lit. 

Like a true politician, Berkley is still considering that recommendation. When was the last time any politician made a move without first mulling it over for decades? I hope it doesn't take him too long. If he thinks his diplomatic immunity would save his hide he is sorely mistaken. Like as not, it would only serve as a bullseye on his back when all hell breaks loose. 

In another matter, the bounty huntress, Lilith Sanders, showed up in the embassy this morning and cashed in 6 Frell horns. She seems blissfully unaware of the dangerous times we're living in and yet I know she is for she has armed herself to the teeth. To quote Horace once more, Ridentem dicere verum quid vetat? - What forbids a laughing man from telling the truth? In complete contrast to Berkley, I've no doubt this mysterious woman knows what's coming and is well prepared for anything that might befall us. Her morals may be questionable though. I did not fail to notice that there wasn't a single spot of white Frell blood on her clothing but there were several spots of red blood. I wouldn't be surprised to discover that she robbed those horns from someone else. However, as no one was reported missing and no victims of any violent attacks showed up in the hospital or at the morgue, I suppose she did not deal too much damage. Something in that woman strikes my curiosity. I do not believe she's a horn hunter, whatever she says. For that matter, I do not think she's a bounty huntress. I've seen bounty hunters before. Typically, they are physically strong ruffians. This woman? her green eyes which reflect light, black hair and short, slender stature suggest her mother was using Starbalm during pregnancy. Starbalm children tend to be graceful and lithe but are seldom strong. I do not see how this woman could force a professional criminal's arms behind his back and cuff him. In addition, she is well educated, intelligent. Not your classic bounty hunter material. Checking the biometric records, I found that the scanner let her in to that weapon dispensing act with a level 6 clearance. That clearance is one level higher than my own. Whoever this woman is, she has serious access to anything she wants. With level 6 clearance she is authorized to commandeer any military vehicle, equipment or personnel she requires at any given time. I've ran a search in the limited databases Amy has and her name isn't registered anywhere. Running a second search for a female Sanders, L. proved more fruitful but only by a slight margin. It appears that a female G.I. by the name of Lilia Sanders was enlisted to Space Corps Infantry's 9th Airborne nine years ago. After seven months she was given a transfer order signed by Admiral Pasha, commander of Corridor Nine at that time, and afterwards? she has disappeared. The transfer order did not state where she was transferred to and that's it. No discharge, honorable or otherwise, no records whatsoever. Classic Corridor Nine operative file - she just disappeared off the face of the universe. I admit, my curiosity is piqued.
 
Enough of that. I do not need this distraction. I've had Iron Felix round up my troops and limit them to the area of the embassy. I do not like the idea of them just walking around when the streets may explode into chaos at any given minute. 

Conjecture: Is it possible that Earth was cut off without any relation whatsoever to the Orions? Could something just block hyperwave transmissions? If so, does it block all kinds of Hyperspace functions? Is it possible that ships can't jump out of Sol system?  I must remember to find a physicist and ask these questions. Quantum Physics are not what a man with my sort of career is good at.

Ponder this: Lilia Sanders joined the 9th Airborne. Her parents were both deceased at the time and she had no next of kin to speak of. She disappeared after an unclear transfer order signed by Admiral Pasha. If she is indeed Lilith Sanders, she harbors some serious secrets. However, this relates to a person who's become most distraught after meeting Lilith Sanders - Major Lana Briggs, who joined the 14th Regiment with no next of kin to speak of, was transferred to some unclear destination by an order signed by Admiral Pasha and then disappeared. That happened about the same time. Lana popped back up 4 years later with a standard commando level 4 clearance and was attached to the Panthers. She never spoke of what happened in between and I never saw fit to pursue an investigation. Lana is an efficient, trusted officer. She shone right from the start, turning Green Platoon's Heavy Weapons Division into the most efficient division in my regiment. She never let me down and often pulls extra mileage when others falter. Why, she has single-handedly finished that botched strike in Vega, turning a possible disaster into a successful mission despite all odds being against us. I do not only trust Lana with my life. I trust her with the lives of my men, whom I swore to bring back home when this war ends. However, this raises a few questions in my mind. What is the connection? Is there any? I know I am being paranoid here but? am I being paranoid enough? I think I'll summon her to my office and see if she's willing to talk



Lilith, 11 A.L.C, Torbaine

In the darkness, something burst, like a soap bubble. She drove the stock of her APG into the face of the wounded Orion, smashing his skull into his brain and killing him. Voices were calling all around, screaming for help in the musical language of the Orions. She rolled, raised her APG and put burst of green Phaserays into an Orion woman approaching her with some sort of shovel. 
"Bad choice of weapon, babe," she grunted.
She looked at the datapad on her arm, sprang to her feet and ran as fast as she could. The bombs were going to go off in 2 minutes and she had not yet cleared the blast radius. 
An Orion stepped from behind a corner and she shot him as she run, then stopped cold. The Phaserays tore through the bundle the Orion held and as he fell, his almost human face conveyed so much despair and sadness. The bundle, she saw, was a child, probably not yet one year old.
"Shit," she cursed, "HSS Shriek, this is Dominatrix. The place is crawling with women and children. I'm pulling the plug".
"Negative, Dominatrix, negative," the cold voice replied, "finish the mission. We have our orders".
"Are you completely bonkers?" she screamed, "there are over 500 women and children here and not all of them will clear the blast zone in time. I'm going to delay the explosion".
"Dominatrix, we're picking up comm chatter on Orion military frequencies. We can't decipher the coding but you can bet your ass they're sending troops in. Get out of there right now!"
"Son of a bitch!" she spat, "When I come back, you and I are going to have words, Litbarsky!"
"Just get out of there, Dominatrix" the voice replied.
She looked back just in time to see the power generators go boom. She dived into a ditch to avoid the coming shockwave and saw Orions, women and children mainly, being thrown in the air like rag-dolls.
The worst was yet to come, she thought, taking a big breath and clinging on to it for dear life. She felt the suction clawing at her body and braced herself against the ditch's side, her eyes closed and fists clenched tight. The raging fusion superfuel fire the bombs created sucked the air out of the area in mere seconds and unlike her, the Orions could not hold their breaths.
She reached with one hand, fastened the face mask to her mouth, sealing the combat armor so she could get fresh air from the rebreather. 
Something heavy thudded above her and as she looked up, she found herself staring into the imploring eyes of an Orion girl who must have been in her teens. the eyes were lifeless but full of terror still.
"Forgive me," she whispered weakly, as if that child would be able to hear, "forgive me, please".

She woke up as soon as the doorknob began to turn. Her legs bent over a horizontal bar, the bounty huntress slept like a bat, suspended vertically and upside down, though hardly for the same reasons. 
"There's a do not disturb sign on the door," she growled. The dream left her raw and aching inside. Company was the last thing she wanted.
"As if I would give a fuck about it, Lilith," the steel in the reply made her open her eyes. 
She flipped with cat-like flexibility, cartwheeling in the air and performing a perfect landing on all four. 
Lana grunted. The bounty huntress could tell the blonde marine wasn't impressed at all.
"So you decided that we are indeed old friends, have you?" Lilith chuckled, "I was wondering when you'll show up at my door".
"Never wouldn't have been long enough," Lana closed the door behind her, "what the fuck are you doing, Lilith?"
"Making a fortune over dead Frell horns," the bounty huntress approached the Mini-bar, "soda?"
"I'll pass," the Panther almost spat, "and don't play your games with me, Five-Five-Oh-Seven".
That made Lilith freeze in place. She has never expected to hear her designation from Lana Briggs. The game just took an ugly turn.
"You should know better, Five-Five-Oh-One," she said coldly, "if I am not on a mission, you won't believe me if I said so. If I am on a mission, I may not say so. Impasse".
"My ass," this time, Lana did spit, "You show up at the embassy, walking around like you own the place, waving a bogus level 6 clearance like you're Marshal Zhukov himself. People are asking questions. And guess what, Lilia, people are connecting dots".
"You will not use that name in my earshot, Lana" Lilith snarled, her eyes blazing with anger, "not now, and not ever. Lilia Sanders is dead. We buried her a day after her 24th birthday".
She stopped, breathed deep and forced herself to maintain her calm. Lana had no right to hurt her, true, but she did have ample reasons to, from a certain perspective. 
"What do you mean by connecting dots?" she asked, just to change the subject away from things she didn't want to remember.
Lana shrugged. "The Colonel asked me if I had anything to do with you," she said, "turns out your own records and mine show some similarities. That is, they raise the very same question marks!"
"I'd have thought they'd delete Lilia's record," the bounty huntress said coldly, "not like the Corridor to get sloppy like that. At any rate, nothing I can do about it. What do you want me to do? Pull my clearance on your colonel and order him to cease investigating? That's only gonna make him more curious. You know how people are. At any rate, that level 6 is no bogus. It's the real deal. Most of you dumb bitches didn't have the guts to carry on with Project Dryad. Took it too much to heart after what happened with Diana. But the few who did have the guts, who had the foresight to carry on, they got things you can only dream of. A level 6 clearance is only the beginning. You run around playing the little Panther and if you're happy with it fair enough. Us, the real Dryads, we make a difference".
The blue eyes seemed to waiver at that declaration.
"Two of us, Lana, two of us was all it took to clear the Orions out of the Duke of Wales back in Proxima. Two. We are better than any human can ever be. When you Panthers were sitting there around the Proetus with your thumbs up your asses, it was us who came in and cleared out the terrorists. In the past four years, we were making a difference. A real difference. We will bring victory in this war, eventually. Just because we had the guts to carry on".
"You mean you lacked the morals to call it quits," the blonde snarled back, "what is the price of this victory you speak of?"
"Morals are subject to perspective," replied the bounty huntress, "is the lion immoral when it devours the sheep? Is it immoral when it ensures its own genetic continuance by killing the cubs of the former alpha male? I do not deal with morality, little sister".
"Don't call me that!" the Panther snapped, her hand reaching for her sidearm, a 'Redeemer' Plasma Pistol. 
"Or what?" Lilith shrugged, "you'll shoot me? You won't, Lana Briggs. You were never the kind of girl to shoot someone for trash talking. Break their noses, that's your style, remember? Whether you like it or not, we carry the same genetic makeup. That makes us sisters. Simply so. Want to run a DNA check and have it confirmed by scientists?" 
The blonde Panther released her grip on the Redeemer and shook her head. "This is a waste of time," she sighed, "I don't know why I even bothered. You never change".
Lilith shrugged. "What is you beef, Lana?" she asked, "you'd think four years would have mellowed your anger somewhat".
"You are not my sister," Lana retreated one step back towards the door, "Diana was my sister, if you want to talk sisterhood. But you were never anything other than a heartless butcher. You were running with us, playing friendly but when the time came you- Aargh, you're not going to get me there again, Lilith. You know just fine what my fucking beef is! You knew it then, you know it now! Your games don't work on me".
Lilith opened a can of Spacersfizz soda, "Diana was more than just sisterly with you," she observed calmly, "but that's not the point. So don't let me take you there, wherever 'there' is. Let's change the subject. What have you told that C.O. of yours?"
"The truth," Lana shrugged, her voice casual, all her anger repressed.
That gave Lilith a pause. The bounty huntress turned towards the marine swiftly. "What part of it?" she snapped.
Lana smiled sweetly. For once, she has beaten Lilith in her own game. "I told him I knew you and I told him I can't talk about it and I told him that he can't trust you damn worth".
Lilith chuckled. She was offered a fat wriggling bait and she bit it. She was not beyond admitting she was outdone. 
"Touché," she said, "the truth indeed. Scored one point there, Lana. Now, don't trouble yourself. I am not here on a mission. You may say I'm on an intermission, if you wish. So many tasks out there, so few girls who had the guts to stick with Dryad all the way. At any rate, right now I'm pretty much stuck here like the rest of you and even your colonel's bright enough to see that trouble's brewing. Now, if you please, I was sleeping. The door is that way, Subject Five-Five-Oh-One".
Lana left without any further word. 
For a long time, Lilith just stood there, looking after her. Finally the bounty huntress shook her head as if waking up from a dream. She sat down on the unused bed and pulled out her armpad computer.
"Run file six-one-two," she said.
A small three-dimensional projection formed about her arm. Two girls, younger and happier than she will ever be again. One of them, an Irish redheaded girl, raised a glass stein full of beer. 
"Here's to sisterhood," she said, "to my two best sisters in the whole bloody galaxy".
Lana, seven years younger and far happier, raised her own stein and clicked it against the redhead's.
Lilith tipped her soda can in salutation the two holograms. "To sisterhood," she said bitterly.
"Lily, drop that bloody 'corder and join us," said the redhead, "don't let us drink all the bloody beer on our own, sister". 
The recording stopped abruptly. 
Lilith's mouth twisted bitterly. She sighed suddenly and shook her head. "Run file Seven-Seven-Two," she said.
The stern face of Marshal Zhukov appeared before her. 
"To summarize, Five-Five-Oh-Seven, those are your mission parameters?"
The voice rumbled on for another minute. She listened avidly, even though she heard it so many times she could accurately recite every last nuance in his voice. Still, it was good to have a reminder of what she still had to do. After that hologram faded as well, she flipped the armpad off and with an agile roll performed a perfectly balanced handstand right next to the horizontal bar. She pushed her legs above it, twisted, and nimbly hung herself back into her sleeping position. 
A random onlooker, had there been one around, might have noticed that a pair of salty bitter tears ran around her eyes and down her forehead before her breathing became relaxed and rhythmic like that of a sleeping person.

In the darkness, something burst, like a soap bubble?



Colonel's log, day 13 A.L.C, Torbaine
That's it. Troy is falling. All hell is about to break loose. At Starlight Academy they want officers to take general courses to broaden our horizons. I chose Literature as one of my courses. There I ran into an ancient poem by one William Butler Yates. The words were so touching that I have committed them to heart. 

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; 
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, 
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere 
The ceremony of innocence is drowned; 
The best lack all conviction, while the worst 
Are full of passionate intensity.

Quite. Quite right. The first violent outburst happened yesterday. Some embassy comm employee was stopped while shopping and beaten bloody by worried citizens who wanted answers he didn't have. After that, there were three random clashes between civilians and other embassy personnel. One ended with a militiaman mobbed to death after he used his 'tazer to stun one man in a crowd of thirty. Bad move, that. 

Ambassador Berkley has gathered the embassy personnel and my own men this morning and authorized the use of lethal force in case of imminent danger. I told him privately that it is useless. Even when they mob, those are our people there. If we start shooting indiscriminately towards the crowd, we will become servants of the rising anarchy. A thin line of militiamen is right now forming a wall between the embassy and the main concourse. The crowd there is growing larger by the minute and despite their relative orderly protest, I fear this may get out of control in a heartbeat. I begged Ambassador Berkley to evacuate Torbaine but he will hear naught of it. It will sow panic, he told me. I wonder where his wits are. Panic's already been sown. It's growing into terror now and will ripen into horror before long and we are powerless to stop it. The ending lines of Yates' poem are haunting me as I watch the gathering crowd from the window

The darkness drops again; but now I know 
That twenty centuries of stony sleep 
were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle, 
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, 
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

Conjecture: Berkley is well educated. Harvard graduate, Foggy Bottom trained. However, is it possible that despite that, this is too much for him to handle? I fear he's losing it.

Ponder this: were we to be given an order to open fire at rioters, what do I tell my men? Do we obey that order? The consequences of any decision I take in such position may be catastrophic.



Lilith, 13 A.L.C, Torbaine
The main concourse was too packed to move through it. Bereft of a better option, the bounty huntress ran on rooftops, nimbly jumping from one building to the other. It wasn't all that hard, she thought as she almost lazily jumped five meters across to land on another building, closing with the embassy. Moving from treetop to treetop was a bit harder because your way wasn't clear and straight as this. If you wanted a real challenge, she thought as she leapt again, try evading Orions chasing you on the glaciers of Pollux IV. They nearly caught her there, she smiled, but she was too good for them. She stopped for a moment, observing the gathered crowd. The smell told her everything. Sweat mingled with fear, anger and? anticipation? Could it be? Yes, her keen nose told her, anticipation. 
She grew up in a foster home in Titan 5, on the coast of the Thetis Ocean. The smell was like the ozone-laden feeling of the air when a storm was brewing. No doubt, some sort of storm was building up below her. 
She recalled seeing a comedy once, one of those early 21st century antique 2 dimensional "films". There was a wheeled ground vehicle - they called it a "car" - hanging above a cliff. She remembered that car, two wheels suspended above the abyss. A prod would be enough to drop the car - some useless cheap antique called Ferrari, she recalled - over the cliff. The protagonists, characters so thin and shallow she could almost see through them, were so anxious they dared not even breathe lest that does the trick and sends them down to crash on the rocks below. The situation was the same here, she thought. A breath may be enough to cause the mob to burst and roll the entire planet down to a deadly plunge. Well, if no one else had the brains to see it and do something about it, she figured it was up to her. There were people she needed to rescue or the whole place is going to go down in flames. She jumped another building, bringing the square in front of the embassy into her line of sight. There were militiamen in the square, with Durasteel riot shields set forth and an array of weapons. Mostly lethal ones, she thought. Riot shields may stop eggs and rotten tomatoes but they would do little to defend the militiamen against an angry mob. No Panthers there, she noticed. That colonel that leads them is smart enough to know when he can't do anything. Maybe there's hope after all. She jumped the final building and was right there, 10 stories above the square. The transponders on her IFF4 Phasegun and her APG blipped as one. So, someone eyed her through an IFF weapon? She looked towards the embassy, raising her eyes to the roof. Yeah, right there. She aimed her IFF4, making some Panther crouching on that roof hear his own transponder blip. Let them know she knows where they are. She looked at the crowd again. It was very tense down there. She had a good metaphor there, with that cliff scene. How did it end? Oh yes, they got out safely through the windows - why not just open the doors? People were so complicated sometimes - And there they were, standing next to the car. The stupid one smiled and said, "see, everything is ok, even the car's still with us" and patted the back of the car, sending it to plunge down and crash below. Then, the smarter protagonist said? what was it? Oh yes, it was "Dude, that was my brand new Ferrari".  She didn't get the humor. The 21st century was? different. Well, it was getting late and she had things to do. She took her grappling hook and attached it to the railing on the far side of the building, putting the building between her and the eyes of the tensed crowd. She rappelled down silently and quickly then released the cord. The grapple can wait for her there. She had no immediate need for it now. She turned to the embassy. One of the militiamen moved to stop her then realized she was carrying a heavy APG with her. Whoever had clearance to use such a weapon could avoid most bioscans. Her query should have been on the third floor but unfortunately she met him just as she reached the embassy doors.
"Ambassador Berkley!" she called, stopping the exiting man. 
"I have no time for this, soldier," the ambassador said, "the crowd is waiting for my speech".
"Ambassador," she said tersely, "I have the clearance to order you to evac the premises ASAP and head for a secure location," that stopped him, "and I am giving you that order right here and now".
"Who are you to give me such an order?" the ambassador turned towards her. She looked into his eyes. Uptown boy, not used to being bossed around, she thought. Probably never heard the word 'no' before. 
"The name is Lilith Sanders," she said, "I'm with ATOU".
Several heads turned towards her. People seldom admitted being members of Space Corps' Advanced Technology and Operations Unit in public. Few people actually liked ATOU.
"Well well," the ambassador shook his head, unimpressed, "what is Corridor Nine up to now? Nothing good, I'm certain. Well you listen, miss Corridor Nine. You special projects people never knew anything about statesmanship and this," he gestured around, "is all about statesmanship. Don't you realize that those people out there are awaiting my speech? I can't keep them waiting. You on the other hand, can wait. Paul, escort miss Corridor Nine here to my office. I'll see her after my speech".
A diplomatic bodyguard put his hand on her shoulder. She shrugged the hand off and said, "Ambassador, you may not disobey my order!" she took a step towards the ambassador. Instantly, her IFF transponders began blipping continuously as several IFF Phaseguns were aimed towards her. It wouldn't do, she knew. Of course, the Identify-Friend-or-Foe system would automatically phase any shot turned towards her into a non-lethal charge and those, she knew, would not even slow her. By the time any of them could switch the IFF system off, they'd all be downed. However, if shots, even non-lethal ones, would be heard, the crowd could go mad and she wasn't willing to risk that. She shrugged and backed off. "I'll be on the roof," she said wryly, "where those who have any brains are".

By the time she reached the roof, the ambassador was well into his speech. She didn't bother listening. That man smelled of anxiety and fatal determinism. It was a man who would not step off the maglev rails despite being able to see the coming train. She was not surprised to find all twenty Panthers on the rooftop. They were not in a friendly mood, she saw immediately. All of them, including Colonel Santiago were blending into the rooftop, their all-purpose marine armors set to chameleon mode, switching colors quickly to match the background. They all had helmets on with opaque tactical display visors over their eyes and all had their safeties off. Clever commandoes, she thought. 
"Miss Sanders," Colonel Santiago nodded at her, "Somehow I am not surprised you've joined us".
"That ambassador of yours is a dead man," she said, ignoring the greeting, "he ignored my order to evac the place".
The sigh she got in response told her more than she wanted to know. "Fool," Santiago shook his head, "I tried as well but he wouldn't listen".
"Gave you the whole 'it's all about statesmanship' speech?" she asked, "Sounds like he memorized it".
Santiago nodded. "Indeed," he said, "but maybe he knows what he's doing after all. Look, the crowd's gone quiet".
Below them, in the square, Berkley was using a handspeaker to assure the crowd that the embassy is doing all their best to ensure that Torbaine remains secure and safe during these uncertain times. 
"Maybe he does," she admitted gruffly. She lit a cigarette and kept watching. Indeed the man was talking about safety, security and stability and that seemed to mellow these people. That was what they wanted to hear, she thought. That everything's gonna be fine, that the situation is under control and so on. It would keep them in check? at least for a short while.
"That's a disgusting thing," said a Panther, a tall robust woman with eyes the color of murky mud and an odd accent. 
"The crowd?" Lilith asked.
"The cigarette," the woman replied, "it stinks and it's unhealthy".
"Aren't you the catholic minister?" Lilith snorted, "you're not my mom so don't tell me how to live. You can stand up wind if it really bugs you so much".
The Panther shook her head and said "nekulturny". 
Russian, Lilith thought, she's Russian. 
Then, like that idiot in the movie patting the car and saying "dude even the car made it," Berkley began detailing the measures he'd taken.
"Oh no," she shook her head, "he didn't just say?"
"I'm afraid he did," Colonel Santiago raised his finger to the side of his helmet and said to his comm "all units, Santiago here. Be advised, trouble's brewing. Look sharp!"
The crowd stood in shocked silence as the last echoes of Berkley's statement died out around. 
"Did you just say you authorized them to shoot us?" cried a voice from the crowd, carrying over the plaza. 
He may have meant it as a threat or warning but all it did was enrage them, she saw. Those were hard-working terraforming engineers. They braved hostile atmosphere, an obscenely radiant sun, hostile Targs and angered Frells on a daily basis. They could not be cowed easily. 
"Please disperse and return to your homes," Berkley repeated his last sentence. 
"Or what?' cried someone, "you'll shoot us?"
Even from this far she saw Berkley's face growing pale. 
"Stinking richboy," she took a drag on her cigarette, "thinks people gonna cower when they hear the word 'gun'. Now he did it. He really expected them to be cowed like some bunch of Cambridge wieners?"
"I have authorized use of-" Berkley's words were cut as a ballistic tomato splashed next to him. The first tomato missed, true, but a rain of vegetables and eggs followed it, some hitting the ambassador, his bodyguards and the militiamen around him. The militiamen raised their riot shields on but the rain of ballistic vegetables and eggs was thrown above their heads and the shields were useless. A rotten cabbage hit a bodyguard in the shoulder, an egg took Berkley in the face. The crowd roared as that happened, the almost-comic picture of the aristocrat's face covered in egg yolk encouraging them to carry on with their acts. She noticed tentative steps forward amongst the first row. The situation was going to escalate and nobody could stop it anymore.
"Jesu Christo!" Santiago said, "This is going downhill fast. Santiago to all units in the square. Withdraw into the embassy! I repeat, withdraw! And for Jesus' sake, men, hold your fire!"
The bodyguards pulled Berkley back and the militiamen began an orderly backwards movement. The crowd, motivated by this withdrawal, pressed forward. Some in the front row were not so enthusiastic about closing on armed militiamen though and tried to hold back. This created two contrasting pressures. Someone was pushed forward suddenly and went flying towards the militiamen line. 
One of the militiamen, already stressed to the point of breaking, took aim and fired a single Phaseray bolt at the man. The gun was set to stun charges, nothing lethal, but as the clear whoosh sound of a Phaseray bolt carried around the square. The crowd went into an immediate furious frenzy, some charging forth in mad anger, others trying helplessly to flee. The mess was too much for the militiamen - people who failed the grade in making it to the real military forces - and suddenly, Phaserays were being fired everywhere. 
"Jesu Christo!," Santiago shouted, "for the love of god, cease fire! cease fire!" but no one listened to him and the square below turned into a bloody battlefield.
The marine colonel turned towards the sudden sounds of metal scraping on metal. Lilith activated the sniper scope attachment on her APG. To his amazed eyes she switched the APG to fire semi-automatic single-frequency laser shots and raised the gun to her shoulder. 
"You're not going to start shooting too!" he said. 
Needless to say, his Panthers all had their guns ready but none of them fired. They were a disciplined force of elites, their nerves were made of steel. They would only fire if given an order. 
"Oh yes," she said, "I'm going to shoot".
His hand came down over the barrel of the APG. 
"Colonel," she said with a slight hint of annoyance creeping into her voice, "I'm going to take a single shot and end this all. Nobody is going to be killed. Stand down. Now! Don't make me pull my clearance on you and turn it into an order. Stand Down".
He weighed her odd declaration then realized that a single laser shot, even if it did kill someone, won't matter much anyways. There were already many dead people down in the square. If she tried to shoot a second time though, he was willing to risk court martial and strike the gun out of her hand. She could smell that determination coming up from him. He stood still and watched her take aim. It was too high, he would see immediately, no way she was aiming at anyone down below. The gun was tilted twenty five degrees down but unless she planned to shoot someone who was seven meters tall, she will indeed not hit anyone in the square.
The bounty huntress pulled the trigger gently. Her aim was as good as ever, she saw. In the middle of the square, the metal pole creaked once, creaked twice, and the top half of it, sporting the flag of Earth United, came crashing down. Everyone stared in awe as the great flag, their symbol of unity, came tumbling down into a square flooded by human blood. 
"Yob tfu yo mat!" the Russian Panther called, "How did you- Even I can't shoot like that!"
"You couldn't shoot an elephant from point blank range, Irina Pavlova," said another Panther, a gunnery sergeant with a Russian accent.
The falling flag was a bucket of cold water in everyone's face, Santiago saw. The crowd stopped, people staring around them in shock. 
Then, in ones and twos people started dispersing. 
"Emergency crews to the square, now now now!" Santiago said in the comm, "everyone leaves their APG here. They'll need every possible hand down there. Glide Mode!"
He did not wait to see that his Panthers followed the order. He pressed a button, inflating retractable pockets of air, turning his suit into a small hot air balloon. He dropped his APG and jumped over the ledge, his suit slowing his decent. The rest of his men weren't slow to follow and the bounty huntress was left standing all alone on the rooftop, observing the scene.
"Bloody massacre," she grunted, switching the APG's safety back on and lighting another cigarette. She counted 17 dead, at least 50 wounded. She could make out ambassador Berkley's body lying motionless on the ground. However, as she observed him through the sniper scope of her APG, she saw his chest was still moving up and down. She couldn't decide whether it was a good thing or a bad thing. 
"Dude," she shook her head sadly, "there goes our brand new Ferrari". 


The Second Transition
"You couldn't believe the girl
Would do something like this, ha
You didn't think the girl had the nerve
But here you are
I guess action speaks louder than words"

The Pretenders - Thin Line Between Love and Hate


Lilith, 19 A.L.C, Torbaine
The crumbling of society came as no surprise to the bounty huntress. Mere days after the bloody "Massacre of Torbaine" as some fools called it, law and order were gone completely. Looters were the main spark. A large rowdy band of rioters attacked the mall and once the militiamen arrived the riots turned bloody again. This time though, the militiamen were attacked by all manners of improvised weapons as well as several scavenged real ones. Merely six days after the "Massacre", what's left of the Militia were either dead or in hiding. Their headquarters on the main concourse was mobbed and looters availed themselves to all kinds of equipment in it. After that came the point Lilith deemed as the point of no return. Bold rioters, 250 of them attacked the embassy itself. Anyone caught in it would have been subject to lynching if the Panthers didn't step in, holding the rioters at bay with stun bolts until the embassy personnel evacuated via the sewers then pulling out without a scratch and without leaving any casualty behind, on neither side. The disappointed rioters turned their rage onto the building itself, ravaging it to the very foundations. 
Despite that, Lilith would mark the fall of law and order right there at the point when angered rioters lynched two bodyguards, dragged the recovering ambassador Berkley from his hospital bed and hanged him like some crook, right there next to the fallen flag pole. After that, there was no order left anywhere. Soon enough, the riots dissipated. Like rabid wolves, the civilians turned on one another. On one occasion, two fools made a hostile approach towards her hotel room but her knife bit deep and they withdrew, bleeding and wiser. She saw the Panthers occasionally, intervening and assisting those in need of help. No doubt, that hero they had for a colonel has been trying to assemble some sort of new order - she was certain he was too smart to attempt and hold the crumbling old one. It was a new world, alright, but it was neither brave nor a place for bravery. For now, she was waiting. She had no immediate goal to pursue. 

She acquired a heavy hoverbike, one of the new Harley Corsairs people seem to fuss about all the time. People said it had style. She couldn't care less. It was efficient, that's for sure, reaching from 0 to 200 KM/H in 8.4 seconds, heavy enough to break through the stupid barricades some idiots built in the streets yet agile enough to avoid the random collision with debris. There was a lot of debris to evade out there. Rioters looted stores, burned cars and houses. Symbols of the Embassy were savagely attacked. Women were being brutalized in dark allies on an hourly basis, she knew. She found bodies from time to time. Lacking anything better to do, she toured the streets of Torbaine, challenging rioters with her eyes and often enough, with her weapons too. She had no intention on trying to save the world or fix it or what have you. But she also couldn't sit idle when people were being attacked under her nose either. 
She had every intention on surviving and sometimes, that was just the same as trying to save the world, she thought as she approached the Atmospheric Generator on the western quarter. It's been three days since some dissenters sabotaged the main power plant, leaving big parts of the city without electricity. Now it seemed that the self-sufficient Atmospheric Generators attracted all the low and villainous. She knew how the generators worked, of course. Its atmosphere too rich in oxygen and hydrogen, lacking enough carbon and nitrogen to stabilize the air and ozone to filter the powerful radiation emanating from the blue sun of Beta Serpentis, the planet was habitable only by a slight margin. Breathing its air for long was dangerous and long exposure to the unfiltered high Ultra-Violet radiation would be dangerous. The blue sun emanated roughly twice as much as Earth's own sun and the planet had no protective ozone layer to filter it. Rhean life seemed to be immune to the UV radiation effects. Humans, however, weren't. Despite the fact that Melanoma, like any other type of cancer, was nothing more than a nuisance these days, the repercussions would also affect any Earthly animal, and retinal damages were also common here. In its natural atmospheric state, the planet would have serious consequences on any human's health. However, the Atmospheric Generators were slowly but surely taking over. The 'Suckers' as most people called them, drew on the oxygen and hydrogen from the atmosphere, using them as fuel, affecting changes in the molecular level and spewing out large quantities of inert nitrogen, much needed carbon and rich ozone to turn the air into something more resembling our Earth's atmospheric composition. Every Sucker could affect a field of 10 square kilometers in every direction, which was a tiny area of effect in planetary scales but the real good thing about them was that working together, their effects multiplied. There were over a hundred of them, fully-automated, spread around the "Terraformed zone". According to the calculations, it would take two hundred more to reach the critical level where Le Chatelier's Principle would turn the changes into something that would affect the entire planet. If a chemical system at equilibrium experiences a change in concentration, temperature, volume, or total pressure, the equilibrium will shift in order to partially counter-act the imposed change. In other words - once the area of effect was large enough, oxygen and hydrogen from unaffected areas would stream towards it in an attempt to counter-act the change, being replaced by nitrogen and ozone from the already affected area, until the planetary atmosphere reached a point where safely breathable air can be found anywhere. She knew all that and more. She could recite the precise equations to the letter if need be. However, her bike hovering 20 centimeters above the road, she could also see those idiots killing everyone else if they were allowed to bring down generators, starting with D-22 here in the western quarter of Torbaine. The 'idiots' - there were over two hundred of them - were waving weapons of all kinds and shouting but none of them had the courage to challenge the four Panthers who faced them, barring them from reaching the doors to the Sucker. It was a hopeless, if heroic, effort. The crowd was building up its communal courage, she could tell. Soon enough, in their idiocy, they would reach a point where a push forward would begin and then? she had no doubt the Panthers would take a heavy toll but they would be overwhelmed and torn to shreds by the crazed mob. "Today's your lucky day, Panthers" she thought, dropping her cigarette and shaking her head sadly. It was time for crowd control work.
She kicked the Corsair to full speed, driving straight at the huddled mob. They heard the roar of the engine - the Harley Corsair was loud monster - and scattered, trying to pull out of her way. One wasn't fast enough and the heavy Harley hit him right above the waistline, sending him flying to crash against some of his fellows. She drove on - the Corsair was stable enough to remain balanced after the collision - and finally, airbrakes screeching, she made a sharp 90 degrees turn, stopping half a meter before the Panthers. Even before the Hoverbike stopped vibrating, she was off, somersaulting backwards and landing on her feet. The Panthers eyed her curiously behind their tactical display visors. They did not perceive her as a threat, she saw. They knew better. They seemed apprehensively curious. They knew she was going to pull a rabbit out of her hat and knew it was going to be a surprising one. She recognized Lana's ice-cold blue eyes behind one opaque visor but before she could hold eye contact the Panther turned away. Lilith shrugged. She wasn't here to make niceties anyways. She pulled her APG and switched to User-Mod-4 mode. As the crowd began reorganizing itself again she aimed the rifle above the huddled heads, 60 degrees up, and released a short stream of flames. She heard awed sighs behind her as well as in front of her. That would show those Panthers. The IX-2 All-Purpose-Gun's phasing-chamber could unbind H2O molecules to their component atoms - in other words turning water into fuel for a flamethrower mode. It could be modified, easy to do it, if you had the technical know-how and the clearance to tinker with the gun without the internal defense system self-destructing the phasing-chamber and power circuitry. In the humid atmosphere of this planet, she had fuel enough to burn the entire city, one building at a time. The modification served to halt the crowd in place. Humans instinctively shied from the danger posed in a flamethrower. A plasma jet, one more modification she installed into her APG, would actually do the same work far more effectively but unlike fire, humans did not share a primal fear of what would seem like a jet of colorful Northern Glow. Once the crowd stopped, she switched to continuous Phaseray mode and aimed at the ground before her. With precision, she carved a line in the asphalt, to the awed eyes of those in the first rows. The green line of deadly energy danced on the asphalt but her hold was steady and the line she plowed in the asphalt was straight, carved in green fire, cooling almost immediately to black scorch marks. She switched back to flamethrower mode and released another jet of flames above their heads, causing some to duck or shrink away. If she seemed murderous and psychotic to them, all the better. Even as a mob, people were reluctant to challenge psychos. 
"Now, this line I carved here?" her voice rang above the crowd, carrying clearly in the air, "That's the line of fiery death. Anyone moving past this line is going to get a jet of flames in the face and trust me, this thing is hot enough to melt your eyeballs and I have charges enough to burn you all if need be". 
She sniggered softly as the crowd edged one step back away from her. This is what Berkley didn't realize, she thought, you have to threaten people effectively if you want to get anywhere with it. 
"Five hundred thousand years of spontaneous human evolution," she continued, "and this is what you get. You morons! What are you going to do? Bring the Sucker down? I realize you're all upset, pissed off, worried and what have you but this will accomplish nothing. What are you going to breathe after you tear the Suckers down? Now, be smarter and stop this mess!"
She released a third jet of flame through the air. The crowd shuffled their feet and one by one, began pulling back. More out of fear, she thought, than out of logic. The mob had the same logical capacity as a stampeding herd of buffalos. However, once they disperse, she thought, some would actually mull on her words and rethink their future actions. Not all of them but better a few than none at all. 
"What did they think that'll get them anyways?" she turned to the awed Panthers, "and what are you staring at, you oafs?"
"Flamethrowers are illegal," said one of them, that tall Russian woman, "you can get in trouble for using that".
"Report me to Central Command if you can get a hold on them," she shrugged, "Tell them I also got Plasma Jet mode. I'll be going". 
She turned to her Corsair. There was a red smear where it hit the protestor but looking around, she saw no sign of that man. 
"Blet," the Russian said gruffly, "you're a pizda with a serious attitude problem".
"Who died and made you my mother?" Lilith shook her head, "you're not the model citizen either, you kalba".
"What language is that?" the Russian asked.
She received shrugs from the two male Panthers. Lilith smiled and mounted the Corsair, pulling the APG's strap over her head. If the foul-mouthed Russian didn't know, it wasn't her problem.
"It's in Hebrew," Lana said absentmindedly, "means bitch, both for a female canine and for? uh? a bitch".
"What language is that?" the Russian asked.
Lilith kick-started the Corsair - the hoverbike had a simple on/off switch but the classic kick-start system was also present, because no Harley would ever be a Harley if you couldn't kick the engine to life with a heavy leather boot. "Israel's language," she said, "you know the province where the Jews are in the Middle East?"
"I knew an Israeli guy once," the woman said ponderously, "back in boot camp. He was very? how do you say that? Inflated like a pituch?"
"Cocky," the bounty huntress shrugged, "as in having his chest inflated like a male cock. Yes, most of them are like that. I knew this girl who used to say 'we can do this my way or the easy way. My way starts with me pulling the trigger?' Had enough pride to down-stare generals, that's for sure. Nice language they have there, though. Almost as poetic as your Russian. Now I've got to get going. It's nearly dinner time".
She settled on her Corsair. This conversation wasn't going anywhere and she had better things to do.
"Lil," she froze as Lana spoke suddenly. The blonde Panther's voice was strained as she forced herself to speak, "thank you. This could have ended really badly for us. I should have thought of your solution myself but I didn't and if they started going mad? well, thanks, anyways".
"Don't thank me, Major Briggs," Lilith shrugged, turning her eyes away from the woman she once considered a sister, "I didn't do it for you. I just want to keep breathing, that's all".
As if to counter that statement, a far explosion drew everyone's attention. A column of smoke rose to their north as A-17, a Sucker in the northern quarter of the city was blown up. 


Colonel's log, day 19 A.L.C, Panthers' Safe Zone
From my vantage point on the roof of our temporary headquarters in the east quarter, the smoke pillars above the north quarter and the west one are clear. 5 Atmospheric Generators destroyed within less than an hour. Oh, it could have been worse, of course. Lana's quad saved D-22 and D-24 in the western quarter and Iron Felix used explosive bullets to hold the rioters off F-30 and F31 here in the east quarter. No word from Kowalski on the south quarter but I am not worried yet. With Perkins and Slake in his quad, Kowalski is going to be alright. As proof, there is no smoke over the south quarter. I have no idea what to do next. We've made some sort of buffer zone around our headquarters. Anyone coming in is welcomed but they must surrender whatever weapons they carry with them before doing so. We have 43 civilians within this safe ring. People whose homes are no longer safe, who are afraid of the wolves in man-skin out there. They are my flock and I am the shepherd with my Panthers as their shepherd dogs. It is our duty to guard them and they look up to me to lead them. Lead them where? Lead them to what? 

An hour later. Where was I before the shooting commenced? Doesn't matter, I guess. Kowalski contacted me. As I was beginning to suspect, the assault on the generators was not coincidental. A flag is flying over the Tauri Last Stand plaza. Someone hoisted the flag of the Venus High Orbit Raiders Gravball team with a blood-red writing saying "Raider Nation". Kowalski's quad approached the plaza only to find that it is swamped with armed men, all carrying armbands with VHO Raiders insignia. Pity, I was always an M.O.1 Gladiators fan. 
Kowalski's inquiries about this so-called "Raider Nation" came up with some bad news. Apparently, there's a "warlord" in town and he perceives the south quarter as "his turf". Whoever this "warlord" is, he's not stupid. He's using agents to incite the crowds to violence - the "raiders" didn't seem to mind information security in any way. It was almost as if by bragging about it they tried to entice people into joining them. Their plan is pretty obvious to me. Without Suckers to maintain the atmosphere, the quarters will begin to deteriorate and finally, the only place within the city that would still be livable would be controlled by this warlord and his men. What am I to do with this? No doubt with a surgical strike, my 20 Panthers are more than enough to infiltrate his hold and take him out but can I authorize such an assault on other human beings? We are supposed to be beyond the self-destruction phase, have been this way since the Earth governments signed the Third Concord 92 years ago. I have never dreamed there will come a time where I will be shooting my own kind. Even with that hostage situation on HSS Proetus 4 years back, I knew there could be a bloodless solution.

In other news, that damned bounty huntress really showed her worth today. According to Lana's report, her use of a Flamethrower mode on her APG saved the day around D-22 and later Lana used continuous Phaseray beam to scare the crowd off D-24 in the same way. In both cases there were no casualties. I wish Iron Felix would have thought of that but that gunny has always been out for blood. Well, that's what gunnies are for, so I was told by Gunnery Sergeant Edwards, my first gunny. I don't know whether to be impressed by this Lilith's behavior or be wary of her methods. Illegal APG modes do not bode well but her actions so far are above and beyond any reproach. Who is this woman? What is she doing here? Why?

The situation looks grim here. We can't maintain a 24/7 watch over the remaining generators and at any time the new "warlord" can send his lackeys to destroy them. What do we do if that happens? 

Conjecture: the upheaval is about to increase. The loss of power has shut down the hospitals and other necessary services. Doctors and nurses were not spared the terror of the last few days. In this hostile planet, the lack of ordained healthcare can cause numerous more unnecessary deaths. Also, it doesn't seem that anyone is caring for food production. My men are gathering preserved foods and the likes but what do we do when these run out? Famine and Pestilence are drawing near on their pale horses, and Death, maybe even War too, will follow in their wake.

Ponder this: the sacking of the embassy two days ago has cut us off all hyperwave comms. Assuming that someone out there is still alive, how do we renew contact? 


Through the watcher's eyes, 21 A.L.C, Panthers' Safe Zone 
The Raiders fell into the ambush with not a single moment to suspect anything was amiss. One moment, the band - Lilith could not call this organized, armed militia a "mob" - was walking through Eastway Avenue with their guns ready and the next they were being mowed by heavy APG fire. 
"Idiots," she muttered, observing the battle from the safety of a balcony, "bunch of untrained morons. What were they thinking, coming up like that when everyone can see them?"
Her nose crumpled in disgust. There was this vile smell in the air lately. She couldn't place it or name it but the heightened smell receptors in her nose were constantly assailed by it. She got used to it, soon enough, but it was there and whenever she thought about it, it would, for a minute or two, trouble her.
The ambuscade was led by that Russian Gunnery Sergeant she saw here and there. Felix, the Panthers called that gunny. 4 Panthers occupied second-story windows on both sides of the street, using automatic Multi-frequency Laser mode to create a 3-dimensional X of death. The gunny and another three men literally fell upon the Raiders, using Glide Mode to drop right behind the enemy from the rooftops, firing explosive pellets using the very same molecular principle her Flamethrower used. 
F30 Sucker was not going to be torn down today. The ambush was perfectly planned and perfectly executed. That Panther colonel may have been reticent about firing on other humans - she saw the Panthers avoid deadly engagements several times already - but when forced to, his men acted in both precision and lethal efficiency. 
The Raiders were a bunch of armed thugs. The Panthers were trained, skilled, honed to battle Orions, enemies far superior to your average thug, armed or otherwise. It was like the day Titan 5 Blizzards played a charity match against her high school's Gravball team. 

It was then that her keen ears heard the noises from down below. Coming from the sewers, she thought. A band of men were moving through it, she cocked her head as she listened, definitely a large group. They weren't aiming for the Sucker, she realized immediately - the sewage tunnels didn't reach there, she knew. She's seen the schematics. There was an intersection of tunnels right below her. Take a left and you can go underground all the way to the mining outpost Boa, 3 kilometers outside the city proper. Take a right and it would lead you towards the commercial center where? 
"They're going to attack the Panther base by surprise," she quirked an eyebrow, "after drawing almost half of them away!"
Whoever this Warlord she heard of was, he was no man's fool. That plan was sound, esthetic. He sent a band of men to visibly approach the Sucker, knowing that the Panthers would be forced to react, sending away some of their men to stop that attack. Now, with their base somewhat uncovered, his men would coming out of the sewers like rats. Big ugly, gun-wielding rats. She shrugged. It wasn't her problem, was it?
Well, it was to a certain degree, she admitted. Lana was there. As well as around 60 civilians - the number kept growing on a daily basis. If the Warlord sent enough men and they'll come out in several places at the same time, even the elite commandoes are going to be overwhelmed. If the Warlord sent enough men, even an early warning may not be enough. 
"God damn it," she spat, "I am such a stupid, sentimental fool! Hey! You there! Gunny!"
He was barely in earshot but her voice carried well. She rappelled off the third-story balcony she occupied and climbed her hoverbike while the Panther gunny closed with her. 
"Felix, right?" she asked.
"Gunnery Sergeant First Class Andrew M. Felix," the Panther intoned, "you wanted something?"
"Raise your commander on the comm," she said, "the attack on the Sucker was a diversion! Warlord forces are closing on the compound from the sewers! Do it man!"
She did not wait to see if he carried out the order. She turned the Corsair around and sped off towards the Panthers' compound.

She reached the compound barely in time. The buffer zone's barricaded walls weren't manned, she saw as she drove the Corsair towards it, and the area rumbled with sounds of Phaserays and lasers going off. Without any hesitation she pulled her APG, preset already on explosive pellets mode, and aimed it with one hand while the steering the speeding Corsair with the other. She fired a trio of pellets at the latch holding the makeshift gate ahead of her and then hit it with the heavy hoverbike before the blasts dissipated completely, driving through the gate. She stopped cold as soon as she was within the compound and surveyed the scene. Whoever this warlord was, he knew what he was doing - the fighting was spread over a large area as the attackers came out of no less than 10 sewer exits at the same time, taking full advantage of their superior numbers, their only advantage. There would be no diplomacy today, she thought humorlessly, flipping the APG to spreadfire Single-frequency laser mode. The IX-2 had 4 barrels to use in this mode and as soon as she squeezed the trigger, infra-red laser beams, moving too fast for the human eye to follow, washed over a group of attackers. She did not care that two Panthers were there too. The marine all-purpose armors could auto-tune to the simple laser beam's frequency and mirror it, in effect negating it. Lilith was not one to cause friendly-fire incidents. One hand holding the APG, she drew one of her Thermal grenades from her belt. Her thumb ran over the trigger mechanism, setting it to IFF Proximity mode. She ceased raining laserfire on that section as no enemies were standing anymore. She turned around and hurled the thermal more than 100 meters away, towards another pack of attackers. 

Sergeant Kutrisha never saw the grenade coming. However, as the IFF transponder on her APG screeched a thermal warning, she didn't stop to think. Rolling backwards, she abandoned the elevated platform she occupied and dropped two meters to the ground below, with a hail of Phaserays following her. Bolts bounced off her armor, helmet, thigh pads. Just as she balanced on her feet a Phaseray bolt cut through her calf, where the armor has been weakened by previous hits, bringing her down. Her IFF was still screeching and she desperately crawled away, pulling herself with her arms, cursing profusely in her native Russian as she moved. Once the pain settled in, she halted, took two deep breathes and got herself under control. 
"Seventeen is down on the southern perimeter," she reported calmly through the comm, rolling cross-body and positioning herself to see the coming attackers.
"Seventeen, this is Three," Lana's voice responded, "What's your status, Pauline?"
Kutrisha grunted, "blet, I'm not going to do the Khorovod dance any time soon, Three" she replied, "but I'll live".
She rolled again, trying to put some distance between her and the grenade that was still screeching at her. That roll did it. Once the only friendly IFF signature was outside the blast zone the proximity trigger ceased functioning and the thermal grenade blasted, spreading a cloud of plasma particles - extremely charged ionized gas - creating heat exceeding that of our own sun and producing a visual phenomenon akin to the Aurora Borealis of the Northern Pole. Kutrisha saw a mist of green light specked with red rising right where the assailants were and that was it. There were no screams of pain following that explosion. The Plasma burned too hot, evaporating anything in contact with it. Kutrisha sat up, reaching for her APG. Some of the assailants may still be alive. 
"Bah! Blet suka!" she cursed. 
The IX-2 took at least two hits and was inoperative. She reached for her sidearm. If they wanted to get through her post, they'll have a taste of her Redeemer first. 
"Six here," Colonel Santiago's voice said in the comm, "heads up, the east perimeter is being overrun. Nine, can you assist?"
She didn't hear Kowalski - Panther Nine on their Radio Codes - answering. Her attention was otherwise occupied. The enemy was still coming. A Raider climbed over a broken-down hovercar, holding an IFF-4 Phasegun. Kutrisha's pistol took him right through the chest. The plasma spray cut an inch-wide-diameter of a hole through the body and for a split second the Panther saw the light of day coming through the hole before the body collapsed. 
"Seventeen here," she reported, "my IX-2's a goner. I can't hold them off all by myself for much longer".
"Five here," Iron Felix's voice joined the comm chatter, "Hang in there Seventeen, we'll be there in three minutes".
Kutrisha fired another spray of hot plasma, punching through a Raider's thigh and leaving him without a leg. "Da," she chuckled, "better make it quick, Andrei Mikhailovich. They're- uh, wait! Who's got the southwest?"
"There's no one there," replied Lana immediately.
Kutrisha shook her head. There was a barrage of single-frequency laserfire coming from the southwest and it was mainly aimed at the Raiders. A few stray shots did get past and towards her current position but she was not worried - gloss armor plates were designed to bounce back laser beams and single-frequency lasers were the simplest lasers of all. Her combat armor, even in its somewhat weakened condition, could easily deflect them for an indefinite time.
"Forget it, Three," she said, "I got her linked into my visor now. It's that nekulturny bounty huntress". 
Lilith has mounted some rubble, coming into sight of the wounded Panther, an APG in one hand and an IFF-4 cradled in her other. Smirking profoundly, she washed the Raiders with two continuous Phaseray beams which spread before her like two long green tentacles, burning their way through rubble, refuse and human bodies. 
"Roger that, Seventeen," Lana's voice turned cold, emotionless, "Five, take your men to the east perimeter. Nine is in need of urgent backup there".
"And the south?" Iron Felix sounded surprised.
"Lilith has the south, Five," Lana's voice broke no arguments. 
Momentarily in the eye of the storm, Pauline Kutrisha - her Russian name was Irina Pavlova Kutrisha but like most Russians, she adopted an easier English name as well - could finally examine the wound in her calf. The Phaseray burnt through skin and bone, she saw, but the weakened armor still absorbed most of it and the damage miraculously stopped short of either tendons or muscles. The armor suit's autonomous medical nanobots were already at work, sewing the wound together. She'll require a bone restructuring treatment but they had a kit to do that in the compound and the healing shouldn't take more than a week. She raised her head again. The bounty huntress strapped her IFF-4 back and now held her APG in both hands, releasing short streams of Plasma, far hotter and deadlier than the simpler flamethrower though far less impressive. Kutrisha decided that the Raiders would require a hovertank to stop the bounty huntress. 
"Three," she said, "Seventeen here. You got that right about the bounty huntress. She's a nekulturny pizda and no two ways about it. But at least she's our nekulturny pizda".
Lilith somersaulted over the Raiders' exit point, dropping another thermal grenade directly into the sewer pit and landing on her feet only to spring immediately and dive towards Kutrisha as the grenade blasted in the sewers below. She rolled nimbly and came to a halt on all four, right next to the Russian Panther. 
"Here," she replaced the used powercell on her APG with a new one and handed the gun over to Kutrisha, "they're coming from the east".
Kutrisha nodded, taking the APG, forcing her wounded leg to bear her weight as she stood up. 
"Lucky you showed up," she said while the bounty huntress reloaded her IFF-4. Kutrisha's tactical visor scanned the APG in her hand, giving her a remarkable array of User-Modifications to choose from in addition to the IX-2's standard modes. 
"Nichevo," she said, impressed, "You did a good job on the gun".
Lilith turned away. "I'll be wanting it back when it's over," she said sourly, "try not to mess it".
Kutrisha ignored the remark. The bounty huntress was nekulturny - uncultured barbarian - alright, but like she told Lana, at least she was their uncultured barbarian. 
Lilith rolled left, exposing herself and firing eastwards. To Kutrisha's great surprise she was getting a tactical visor information feed from the bounty huntress even though the Lilith wore no visor. In fact, the bounty huntress was dressed as usual, with not a single piece of armor to protect her. However, it was not the time to wonder about such things. The panther used her arms to pull herself on top of a crumbled wall and once she had sight of the enemy, started firing as well. 

The aftermath reminded Lilith of the blood-washed corridors of HSS Duke of Wales back in Proxima. The raid has been turned back but no one felt victorious. 3 Panthers were slain by virtue of the enemy's overwhelming numbers, all of them in the eastern sector of the compound. However, they were not the only casualties. Seven civilians who were cowering in one building in the east sector were found by the Raiders. None was left alive. And one of them...
"A girl, three years old!" Iron Felix reported in a choked voice. 
"Jesu Christo!" Colonel Santiago's face turned grey at that bit of sad news, "why would they do that?"
Iron Felix just shook his head. Even Lilith gasped as she saw the little body cradled in the Russian gunny's hands. 
"Not even the Orions intentionally target children," Kutrisha said in disbelief. The sight was heart-wrenching. 
"How did they get their hands on these weapons?" Santiago gestured towards a pile of enemy guns taken off the bodies of the dead. Mostly IFF-4 Phaseguns and Needle Guns, Lilith saw, but there were five IX-1B APGs and several Plasma Rifles. "The bioscans-" 
"Were hacked," she cut in coldly.
"That's not possible," said one of the civilians. They were all huddled in the same room, civies, Panthers, all of them. 
She drew one of her Plasma Pistols, produced a socketdriver and tinkered with the bioscanner for all of thirty seconds. "Here," she offered the civi the Redeemer, grip first, "Why don't you see for yourself?"
The civi sent a questioning look towards Santiago. 
"Go ahead, Eric" the Colonel said calmly, "take it".
The civi raised a tentative hand and caught the grip of the plasma pistol. Nothing happened. Not a thing. By all means, the bioscanner should have recognized unauthorized handling and activated a stunner charge but no such thing happened. For all intents and purposes, the Redeemer was now public property.  At the Colonel's request, Eric released the safety and took an aim at the far wall. He pulled the trigger, releasing a single plasma pellet and incinerating a hole in the wall.
"Anyone can pull this off if they know the right wiring," the bounty huntress took her plasma pistol back, "I can show you how to do it without once laying a hand on the piece itself. Once inactive, the bioscanner's just a deadweight". 
"Sir," Iron Felix interrupted, "by your leave, sir, I'd like to-"
"I said no already, gunny," replied Colonel Santiago, cutting in, "I will not condone a course of action that would formalize this breaking of human unity. The situation is bad enough already".
"Sir," Iron Felix gently put down the little girl's body and snapped to standing at attention. The proud Slavic face were somber, serious, his gaze set straight. Lilith has been in the military long enough to recognize a gunny eyeballing a superior officer and Felix was a top of the line eyeballer. 
"With all due respect, colonel, sir!" Iron Felix said, "The unity has been broken already, colonel, sir! The colors will-" he stopped cold as Lana's hand landed on his shoulder. 
"I'm afraid I agree with gunny," Lana said in decisive voice, her eyes straying towards the little body at Felix's feet, "we don't want a war but it occurs to me that want it or not, we already have a war on our hands".
Colonel Santiago's eyes trailed across the room, taking in the sight of his own Panthers, battered and tired. His eyes stopped over Sergeant Kutrisha, her left calf bandaged, met with Lieutenant McFadden's tattered combat armor - he was nearly mowed-down by plasma fire, Lilith saw, and his armor was the only thing that saved him. Santiago met the tearful eyes of the civilians. Finally, he looked down at the little body at Felix's feet and sighed. "Is that your official recommendation, Major?" he asked.
If he meant to cow her by throwing the responsibility of the choice on her shoulders, Lilith thought, he should have known better. Lana Briggs would not shy out of responsibility, nor she could she be cowed.
"Yes, sir," she said, "it is".
"Very well," Santiago sighed, "Gunny, I'm sure you know what to do. Get on it and may God forgive us all if we're wrong about it".
"Sir, yes sir!" Iron Felix saluted, "Kowalski, you're with me. Slake, get your trumpet and join us. Get moving!" 
Felix strode out, with the other two Panthers on his heels. 
"What was that all about?" asked Lilith. 
"You'll see soon enough," replied Lana, "it seems like once again I am in your debt, Lil". 
Her voice was bitter as if those words were hard to mouth. 
"There are no debts between us," Lilith shrugged, "Excuse me, I think I need a smoke". 
With those words she turned and headed for the balcony. It was true, she wanted a cigarette. Her brain was immune to the addictive qualities of the nicotine but the habit was simply impossible to break. That little girl? Lilith was not shocked easily but that was shocking. Why kill the little girl? Oh yeah, she needed a smoke. But also, she admitted to herself, she did not want to care for Lana Briggs right now. Not ever, if it was up to her. Caring only brought pain. The cigarette was the perfect excuse to step outside.
Standing on the balcony, dragging softly on her cigarette, Lilith looked towards the setting sun. The clear sound of a trumpet rose in the courtyard ahead of her. She listened to the trumpeting with interest. It was a real trumpet, she thought, brass and air, not some recording. Obviously one of these marines actually had some talent and a lot of practice with it. The music was something she heard before, she knew. She recalled instantly where she heard it and what it was. It was called "Glorious Stride", a march, a theme, the 31st Regiment's anthem. She heard it back in Proxima, she thought, not long after those commandoes landed out of nowhere right on her head, nearly getting her killed in the process but eventually saving her as well. She heard it as Panthers' Blue Platoon was honoring the fallen onboard HSS Shriek.
The trumpet rose to a powerful note, something which seemed like a call to arms. The Panthers must have felt the urge to salute to that part.
"Magnificent, isn't it?" she said softly.
"The composer knew his job well," Colonel Santiago replied, "and you have eyes in your back, it seems".
"Keen instincts," she replied evenly, "I felt you approach. Much like your mascot animal, I am not easily sneaked up on".
"And do you quote our mascot Greek, Horace?" he asked. No doubt the way she kept turning the symbols of his regiment to her favor ticked him somewhat. She thought it was funny.
"Adversity reveals the genius of a general," she replied, quoting Horace, "Whereas good fortune does nothing but concealing it. I, Colonel Santiago, am a woman of many talents".
"So it would seem," Santiago shook his head. 
The setting blue sun colored the horizon in artistic shades of violet and crimson. The note became mellow, sad. Remembering those who have fallen, she thought, it was music to bring tears to the eyes. It felt as if the trumpet was crying on Earth and all the people in Sol system, all the people who died since the odd silence began. Lilith wondered if Santiago felt the same tears she felt at the back of her eyes.
"You're very crafty," he said, "Pauline said you saved her life".
"I did what I had to do," she said.
"Pauline doesn't see it the same way," he replied, "she's thankful. She's not as bad as she seems, you know, even if she needs to wash her dirty mouth with disinfectant". 
"What is her real name?"  The bounty huntress stared out towards the horizon, dragging on her cigarette. She never minded dirty mouths.
"Irina Pavlova Kutrisha" Santiago stood next to her, unaffected by the rancid cigarette smoke, "The Russian province. It means Irina, daughter of Pavel Kutrisha". 
"Yeah, I know that," she replied, "I thought that's what your Felix called her. Pavel is the Russian parallel to Paul. But in the same fashion Irina means Irene. Why does she call herself Pauline?"
"She never saw fit to divulge that," the Colonel shrugged, "It would be beyond me to venture a guess. A person's decisions are often based on deep emotions possibly rooting from sources many years old. Often we place importance in events others would consider negligible, trivial even".
"Quite," she sighed, "quite so, Colonel".
"And I do not suppose you would see fit to divulge your own reasons," the colonel said, "or the source of your skills and apparently super-human capabilities".
"Sorry, Colonel," she replied, "no can do. Explaining it would take more time and more inclination that I currently have. However, I don't suppose you would mind getting off Lana's back, would you?"
"I'm not on her back," he replied calmly, "I'm not one to pursue that kind of nosiness. So long as it doesn't affect that person's performance under my command and doesn't risk them or someone else in the unit, they're allowed to keep secrets".
"You're saying that you're not going to follow on your curiosity regarding me?" Lilith raised an eyebrow.
"It's irrelevant for now," he said and she was grateful. Most people couldn't curb their curiosity and had the tendency to distrust a person keeping secrets. This man knew better, it seemed. 
"You've proven your mettle time and time again," he continued, "and this is a time of need, Lilith. The individuality won't last long. Humans are pack animals. They will band together. Already people are flocking to the Raider flag simply because there's a flag to flock to. A woman of your skills, of your abilities? you could be valuable to any pack you choose to join".
"I'm sorry, Colonel," she shook her head, "I work alone. Wolves hunt in packs. Lions hunt in packs. Me? I am black leopard, what all the ignorants call 'black panther'. I don't play well with others".
"There's no such animal at all," he replied, "the melanistic leopard is a regular leopard suffering of a genetic defect that causes surplus black pigment melanin, in effect darkening the skin and fur".
"It's a genetic variation," she snarled, surprising him with her ferocious overreaction over a seemingly trivial thing, "not a defect. Geez. Being different doesn't make one defective, you know!"
She turned away, puffing smoke.
Santiago stood there silently. He knew sometimes silence got you answers no amount of questions could produce. 
When the bounty huntress spoke again her voice was calm and under control. "At any rate, you are right, of course. People are flocking to the Raider Nation. I've had a close look there yesterday. They must number five thousand by now. A tenth of the planetary population. But of course, lacking another option, Colonel, they will keep on doing so. They'd reason that any flag is better than no flag at all. So long as no alternative arises, they will keep on doing so. Impasse, Colonel. After all, where is the alternative?"
The final notes of "Glorious Stride" died out. There was a short moment of silence and then the trumpet rose again in the old "Hoist the flag" tune. Something in the ancient tune touched her soul. She looked away from the Colonel, hiding her sudden weakness.
He put a hand on her shoulder, surprising her. "Look," he pointed, his eyes straying towards the center of the compound. A makeshift pole was being raised. To her amazed eyes, the grayish bundle on top unfurled. A gust of wind straightened the grey banner, with a leaping Leopard, black as night, in the center. If the leaping Black Panther wasn't enough to tip any casual observer, the golden weaved number 31 would have. It was the 31st Regiment's banner. Underneath the Black Panther, a Horace quote was written. Quae caret ora cruore nostro? It asked. What coast knows not our blood?
Colonel Santiago's voice was warm with emotion. "There is the alternative," he said.
The show touched her. She had to admit it to herself. She felt an urge to join, to flock to that flag. 
"I work alone," she said tersely.
Without any further word she swung herself over the railing and fell three stories down, landing perfectly on all four, rolling and rising to her feet. She may have seemed like she was jogging to the casual observer but in truth, she felt she was running away, running for her life. 


Colonel's Log, Day 21 A.L.C, Panther Nation
May God forgive me if I have made the wrong decision. Within minutes after hoisting the Panther banner, people started coming. Within hours, we've almost doubled our number. Lilith was right about that. Once there was an alternative, they started coming, flocking to the flag. In a sense, we have formed a separate nation or state. And like Chancellor Williams said during the signing of the Second Concord, so long as there are two nations, there would be wars. And the newly formed Panther Nation is getting ready for war alright. The attack on us this afternoon proved a point - the Warlord will not be content so long as there are rogue groups or even just rogue individuals. I've let Lana run the show, mainly because she's less an ideologist than me and less warlike than Iron Felix. I trust her to keep the situation balanced, neither making unsafe assumptions in the name of unity, nor readying for a war of annihilation. From the moment the Panther banner was hoisted, she took charge of? well, everything. She arranged everyone, civies and Panthers alike, to work groups. She sent McFadden and Perkins to oversee and arrange defensive stations around the perimeter and sent Argus and Fritz with a band of scavengers to look for food, supplies and general provisions. I've let Slake take care of the burial of those that died in the battle. Lana may not understand why but I know Slake in ways few others will ever know. It is the right thing for her to do. Kowalski and Iron Felix are going to train the civies with the weapons we confiscated from the attackers. Next time the warlord's men come we will not have people being butchered while unarmed. And so I have condoned a war, in a sense. For the first time since the signing of the Second Concord, humans will bring organized death upon other humans. May God forgive me for my part in this. 

Otherwise, there is a lot that's happening. The bounty huntress refused my request to join us. I wish she hadn't. She is not human, or at least not entirely so. That much is clear. I've seen her falling ten meters without even feeling it and there are other things. She strode into a battlefield completely unarmored and yet she came back without a scratch and Kutrisha said she was definitely getting a Tac-visor feed from her somehow. However, whatever she is, I sense that I can count on her. Time after time she springs to the defense of my men. Her motives are a mystery but her actions are towards stabilization, towards order. In that our goal seems the same. 

Also, there's some sort of air pollution that is bugging me. I have never smelled anything like this stench that covers the city but it's rancid enough to make my eyes water. I think it has something to do with the defunct Atmospheric Generators but what? There is no logic in the generator loss affecting us here. F30 and F31 in the eastern quarter are still working perfectly. I wish I had a chemist or physicist to consult with over this matter but the people who came here so far are mainly diplomatic corpus members. I hope this will change soon as bureaucrats are the last thing I need.

Conjecture: The HSS Aramis landed and deployed as front base of operations over at the other side of the Great Snake Gorge two years ago. It should still have all its instruments, including a hyperwave broadband comm system. I should send people there to scavenge it and whatever else we can use. 

Ponder this: Lilith is inhuman. What does it make of my trusted second in command?

























The Third Transition
"Broken bottles under children's feet
Bodies strewn across the dead end street
But I wont heed the battle call
It puts my back up
Puts my back up against the wall"

U2 - Sunday Bloody Sunday



Lilith, Day 24 A.L.C, Raider Nation

In the darkness, something burst, like a soap bubble. The electromagnetic cuffs that held her hands behind her back were released and she felt the first tingling sensation of the implants in her arms beginning to reset. 
"You know," she said, "it would only take another minute before I can spring above this table and break your neck before any of these pretty bodyguards could react. Hell, I'd probably get a medal for doing it. Posthumously, I'll grant you, but still".
"Yet, for all the bravado in your words, I sense you will not do such a thing," the Orion admiral replied, "I sense a great struggle within you. Something buried deep beneath is holding your restrained in a way no handcuffs could ever possibly achieve".
"True," she said, "so get on with it, what are you waiting for?"
"An apology perhaps?" the Orion said, "you've killed so many unarmed civilians, so many children".
"Some would call it an acceptable collateral damage," she spat.
"But not you," the Orion shook his head, "I sense that your soul shrinks in terror of what has happened. You did not mean to kill all those civilians".
"Damn," she sat back, "you know, Orion, this torture technique is working. You're boring me enough that I might actually reveal some secret".
"I'm not? interrogating you, marine," the Orion replied evenly, "I'm just curious about you. You are not entirely human. In you I sense many physical anomalies. You are? enhanced?"
"More than you would ever know," she shrugged, "I do suggest you start with the interrogation though. I have an appointment with the grim reaper and I'd hate to keep the old skeleton waiting".
"We're not going to kill you," the Orion said immediately, "or torture you. It is not our way and I sense that you already know it. Besides, what pain could I inflict upon that would rival the one you carry within?"
"Oh great," she said, "now you sound like a catholic priest. Well, gee, your reverence, what is your divine plan then?"
"We will set you free," the Orion said.
Lilith's eyes widened with shock.
"On one condition," the Orion added.
"This is where you try and get me to switch sides?" she asked.
"No," the Orion smiled, "the condition is that you follow your own heart's wish and never return to attack us again, marine".
She closed her eyes, vision of the Orion girl's lifeless eyes, still imploring her to spare her, swam before her vision. She could already tell that in years to come, this vision would return time and time again, bursting in the darkness and assailing her as she slept. 
"Fine," she said, "I was getting tired of this anyways".
"That leaves just one other question, marine," the Orion said softly.
"And it would be?" she asked.
"Your name," the Orion said, "something within me urges me to ask after your name".
What the hell, Lilith thought, and she told him her name.
"Take her back to where you found her," the Orion told the guards then, "return all her equipment to her. Allow a rescue vehicle to land safely and rescue her. You, Lilith Sanders, remember our deal in years to come. Now go and do what you must do, as all of us must".

She opened her eyes and eyed a mirror she positioned in front of her the night before. Yes, she thought, I'll do what I must because that's what of us must do. Almost lazily, she wondered what would have happened that day if the Orions were more like humans. 
"Most likely," she said out loud, "they'd carve me up in pieces and feed me to the Ulik'ashora".
She took a quick shower, did her hair and dressed up quickly. Today was going to be a busy day. 

The acrid smell has grown in the last few days, she thought, but here it was less obvious. The Warlord's turf was brutally if efficiently governed. At first one would have been impressed with the order and cleanliness of the streets of Raider Nation. While the Panther Nation was still struggling to stabilize under Colonel Santiago's direction, the Warlord already had working crews clear up the streets of debris. By some way, the Raider Nation tapped to the backup power generators on the south quarter. The entire area was lit and electricity was everywhere. One could have been impressed by this orderly and civilized appearance. The Pole Avenue bakery was reopened and the new owner was rumored to produce better Rhean Grain Bread than the original owner, who like as not was lying in some shallow grave somewhere. One could truly be lured by this, she thought, as few people in this position could truly resist the smell of freshly baked bread. However, that inviting impression would only last until one reached the punishment square. The Warlord has converted the Last Stand of Tauri memorial square into an exhibition of human misery.  In 11 cages, prisoners were being starved to death. The sign above the cages said they were punished for "repeated disobedience and general disloyalty". The punishment in Raider Nation was swift and inhumane enough to make even Lilith cringe. The cages were made of solid steel painted black. Lilith assumed that at high noon, the painted steel must have warmed up to  a scorching heat. The cages were small, too small to stand in, to small to move, to small to do anything but sit in the same position. The prisoners' eyes were burnt out, their tongues cut off. They were given neither food nor water. They sat in their cages, unable even to cry in their agony. Most people passing by the square had the decency to look away. However, she also noticed that some stopped to laugh at those unfortunates. One even hurled a rock, taking one of the prisoners in the arm and winning a muffled moan of pain. The Warlord maintained his rising nation through tyranny and did so with brutal efficiency. And people were being affected, she knew. People were becoming less moral, more brutal. "Little more than apes," she grunted, "aping whoever they perceive as their leader".
And their leader was her target. She didn't want to care for Panther Nation, for her sister who hated her, for that heroic Colonel who truly wanted to do the best for his people... not at all. But she did care for herself and at this point or another, the Warlord might perceive her as a threat. When that happens, she will need to know all she can about this guy. She left her heavier weapons at the hotel, coming only with her two Redeemers. She was here to scout, not fight. The pistols were concealed under a loose VHO Raiders jersey, one with the number and name of Charlie "The Tanker" Jones, the team's celebrated Right-field Tackler. It was enough to avert attention and blend in, she saw. Most people wore something of the VHO Raiders. Jerseys, arm bands, bandanas, anything that would identify you as either a VHO Raiders fan or a Raider Nation citizen. Her intention was simple. Find the center of government so to speak and infiltrate it in order to locate and assess the Warlord. 
The first part wasn't hard. Someone hoisted the Raider Nation flag above the central shelter building. She had to admire the Warlord's ingenuity. It wasn't the most prestigious building in this area. However, designed to shelter the civilian population during the darker days of the Targ attacks on the newly-arrived humans, it was a sturdy, unyielding and perfectly defensible structure. The main entrance was guarded and she had no doubt the guards would be alert and suspicious. No doubt getting caught neglecting guard duty would be considered "repeated disobedience and general disloyalty". 
The building had air ducts though - she saw a similar shelter before on Tau Ceti Prime - and she could crawl through one of them. She circled the building and found what she was looking for - an air duct vent. She removed the metal grid above it quickly and silently. She used the grid to stop the vent and lithely slipped between the blades. Crawling through the air duct was a long and arduous task. She stopped at every opening, listening to people below. It seemed like every hole in this shelter was occupied. The warlord was not one to waste space, she thought. 
Finally, she came by an empty room. She removed the metal grating and jumped down, landing on all four without a sound. She looked around, surveying the scene. The wall and floor were carpeted with reddish synthetic velvet. It was an office of sorts, she saw. There were two desks made of Rhean Ebony - in fact quite a common tree in this planet that had nothing to do whatsoever with Earth's Ebony. A hand pad was sitting on one of them but as she approached she saw it was unusable - the power pack was cut off. That worried her. This office wasn't populated and in fact seemed like a lure of some sorts - planned to draw your average air-duct-infiltrator by being empty and seemingly containing something. She spun around and saw what she feared she'll see - a small, nearly hidden security holo'corder. the red light on, staring right at her. She gave the 'corder the finger then jumped up the air duct. This was time for some serious change of plan, she thought. No doubt, there would be people waiting up at the air duct's entrance. 
"Guess I'll just have to make my own exit then," she snorted. 
She crawled away quickly and silently. There was a lot of commotion beneath her, she heard through gratings. Someone was shouting orders and the sounds of someone wheezing and crawling through the air duct were coming up some distance behind her. Finally she reached the wanted location. It was the last place anyone would expect her to exit from - the next grating opened up directly above the main entrance. She didn't bother with stealth this time. Once she broke open the grating, falling down as soon as it gave, drawing her two pistols while still in the air. The Raiders - there were six of them there - were taken by surprise and her aim was as perfect as ever. She shot one with each Redeemer, vaporizing a head and an arm. She rolled left and shot another two, straight through their chests. Then, rolling backwards she came to her feet and shot the remaining two. It was no time to hide now. She grabbed a Phasegun off the body of a fallen Raider guard, released a burst of bolts into the main corridor and made for the exit. The spy who spies and gets away gets to spy another day, she thought as she fled ignobly, occasionally stopping to shoot backwards towards some Raiders who tried to give chase. Luckily, no ordinary human could hope to keep up with her for long. 
She reached the punishment square and stopped. There were no armed men around that she could see. She was still holding the Phasegun in her hands and people were drawing back, their eyes staring in amazement towards her torso. She looked down. There was burnt hole in her waist where a P