Homsar Delgana and the Dogs of Sirius-12

The Master seized control of an Algolian prisoner, and having energized that flesh he swiftly broke out of the brig before the skeletal Patrol personnel presence could respond. When they did, he overwhelmed their thought screens and fried their brains with raw telepathic violence, killing them by way of brain aneurisms. Then he took their blasters and axes and accessed a hidden panel; using secret protocols, The Master released the rest of the prisoners and activated all of the concealed reserves that the Patrol did not know was there because they registered nothing to telepaths like Homsar.

General Zuzu realized this possibility as soon as Homsar called for thought screens, and in moments the Patrol marines reorganized. With Zuzu at the head, they formed a defensive perimeter. As the first wave of Algolians, now awake and armed, run into their position the firefight between them began and no quarter would be offered. Semi-portables attempted to overload defensive screens, and when that failed they resorted to ordinance. Once all of the more high-tech options proved disappointing, that was when the melee assault began and General Zuzu--space axe in each hand--howled in delight; of all the men in the Patrol, who were not Agents, Zuzu loved most to get face-to-face and cut down the enemies of the Republic by his own hand.

Homsar was no slouch. He and The Master reached out and began a furious psychic duel, each seeking to shatter the other's mind well before they found each other and attempted to hack the other's flesh into piles of blood and bone. As they ran through the halls, crawled through tunnels, and scampered up and down shafts they would periodically shudder and slump against a wall or side when a mental blow hit so hard as to reverberate into their physical form. Other minds, of lesser individual potency, joined in against him and soon he felt that The Master rallied the best minds amongst the Algolians to aide him in seeking and slaying Homsar. Instead of this being a contest of two champions, it now was a hunt of a single hero against a rival and his full bodyguard.

Outside, the Patrol and Algolian fleets continued to hammer away at each other in a confusing and merciless brawl comprised of swirling ships circling and shooting and boarding one another. If not for Admiral Campbell's presence of mind, the Patrol would have fallen to the superior numbers and desperation of the Algolians. Instead, he reached the Patrol personnel running the station's artillery and coordinated fire amongst the station and fleet gunners; at first slowly, and then accelerating, the Patrol got the upper hand and in time destroy utterly the Algolian fleet.

Homsar and The Master finally crossed axes when they found each other in the main cannon's control room. The Master and his bodyguard charged Homsar and he met with wordless rage. Twelve on one, and Homsar felt himself roughly matched. Thirteen power-armored men wearing top-end defense screens and using space axes filled that room and soon began wrecking the place inadvertently with missed axes striking bulkheads and the electronics embedded within them. The lights shorted out, and despite all combatants being mentally potent that didn't stop Homsar from turning the tables and striking those bodyguards down one by one as a thresher reaps wheat.

The Master saw himself alone against his foe, and redoubled his efforts to kill the foe. Homsar met each swing and thrust, each feint and jab, with one of his own until he positioned himself before the balcony overlooking the cannon's barrel. Then he and The Master in turn attempted to bait each other over the side for several minutes, and then tried to flip the other over, and then the two locked their axes together and tried to overwhelm the other's thought screens. The fight stalemated, and ended only when General Zuzu burst into the room. The Patrol marine general rushed The Master and impaled the Algolian on his axes, ending the duel- but not the life of this foe.

Just then, the main cannon fired and the Algolian Fleet got wiped out in a single shot. Zuzu looked at Homsar. "He got to be dead now."

Homsar shook his head. "Not likely. Even if it's just in a rat or something as low as his character, he survived- and he'll be back."

Nonetheless, this ended The Master's attempt to build a powerbase in the Sirius Sector with which to attack the Republic. Another day, another place, but today the day--once more--belonged to the Patrol.

Homsar Delgana and the Dogs of Sirius-11

The Master put his fleet between the now-captured station and the Patrol Fleet, hoping to keep them separated, but this did not happen. By the point his fleet finish redeployment, Admiral Campbell's thought-cloak dropped and revealed that both fleets were mixed together in point-blank proximity. Caught unawares, The Master and his Algolian crews had no time to prepare for the massive bombardment at such short range. This did not do much to the ships of the line, but many of the ships and boats on the wings were crippled or destroyed by that initial volley of fire. Following that up came the marines and their boarding boats, ramming into Algolian ships and storming them without mercy. Even The Master's flagship got boarded.

Just then the station opened fire with its batteries upon the Algolian fleet, adding to the confusion. It refrained from using its super-weapons, as the destruction was too indiscriminate for the Patrol's needs and objectives. The least-affected Algolians returned fire, giving the station--severely undermanned after Homsar and Zuzu cleaved their ways through its interior--pause and halting its own movement. Then, one by one, Algolian gunner crews began returning fire on the Patrol vessels amongst them. A close-quarters knife fight emerged, with ship combat mirroring the many marine actions within those ships.

The Algolian marines revealed themselves to be mutants, in order to match raw might with Patrol skill and gear, and this worked well enough that only the superior discipline of the Patrol marines finally won it for the Patrol. Once the morale of the mutant marines broke, the Patrol marines routed them and soon thereafter wrecked or seized the Algolian vessel in question. The marine maneuvering soon went to a new level as resistance shifted from ship to ship, having marines fighting in space as well as in the confines of ship bulkheads. Marines on both sides got caught in the ship-on-ship bombardment, instantly incinerated by the artillery blasts, and gun crews soon knew terror as a marine breached their section and dumped a grenade into their section.

The Master soon put down the Patrol boarding attempt on his flagship, only to realize that Admiral Campbell's own flagship bore down on it hurling volley after volley of artillery fire upon it at close range. The screens lit up white trying to hold, blinding the pilot and navigator as both sensors as well as their own eyes couldn't get past the interference. "Captain- hard to port, rotate axis to maintain advantage and fire for effect on their engines." The Master said, "Who's still able to move?"

Admiral Campbell saw The Master's ship move. "Match velocities and mirror their vectors, captain." he said, "Don't let them get our flank." He noticed that a portion of the Algolian fleet began to coalesce to a point on the edge of their messy brawl and sent a wordless warning to Homsar. Homsar, aboard the station, nodded and the station's main gun began to power up. The Algolians moved out, rushing the station while inert. The station fired its main gun, burning through the Algolians in one shot and burrowing into the massive brawl, but while the gun cooled down a second wave of Algolians rushed the station. Homsar and Admmiral Campbell sensed that somehow The Master had moved to a ship in that group.

The Master, knowing that his flagship was lost, reached out with his mind and possessed the captain of another vessel. With this he moved his banner, and his former flagship now ended up sunk under the fire of Campbell's ship. His new crew got surprised, but a glower from The Master meant that he soon had total control once more- and his private quarters could be replaced at another time. Seeing that he's got no chance in the current situation, The Master ran his remaining assets for the station. Using the other ships as a shield, he rushed for the station's surface, and one by one the station guns shot down his escorts. As his ship took fire, he reached out again with his mind and found within a suitable body for him to use; in an instant he possessed it, and moments later the station destroyed that ship.

This did not go unnoticed. "He's inside." Homsar said, "Thought screens on, no exceptions, so kill anyone found without their screen on and active."

Homsar Delgana and the Dogs of Sirius-10

The Master's response to report of the Patrol Fleet once again being underway, and that their reported position being an illusion, got a chuckle out of him- one that unsettled his subordinates. "Well played." he said, "Alert all commands. Battle stations, immediately. This fleet will assume a shield wall formation between the Patrol and the station. Dreadnoughts and other ships of the line shall form the center, with cruisers and lighter vessels on the wings ready to wrap around for envelopment. Station boarding boats on the tips of the wings to await orders." The Algolian fleet did as commanded, and soon they were ready for the attack that they expected.

Admiral Campbell sat on the bridge of his new flagship, the Patrol Fleet now underway at speed and under cloak. He reached out with his mind, and sensed The Master in the distance. Knowing that this Algolian could ruin everything if he sensed them too soon, Campbell spread his sense of perception about the fleet and meditated upon the image and experience of empty space, cloaking himself and the fleet from The Master's own sense of perception by way of a form of telepathic camouflage, in an attempt to deceive the enemy in a way heretofore unsuccessful- but these circumstances compelled Campbell to attempt it anyway.

The Kinneson's Revenge blasted its way through the waves of drone assault boats and made it to the station's last defense perimeter: its anti-ship artillery. The cruiser maneuvered in ways unpredictable to the station's array of fire control computers, breaking prediction algorithms faster than the Sirian slip-stick slingers could compute updates, because Captain Simms figured--correctly--that their artillery is meant for dealing with fleets and not with single ships. Furthermore, the cloak's effects interfered with the station's sensor suite and thus further degraded their ability to track the fast Patrol cruiser. Soon Simms got that ship down on the station's exterior, below the elevation of its primary batteries and forcing secondary and tertiary ones to come online to deal with it. Simms countered by weaving between the gun towers, heading towards the point where Homsar broke into the station.

General Zuzu stood by with his marines, ready to drop at any moment. That moment came and instantaneously they left the ship's hold. Already free, they jetting down to the station's surface and match velocities before breaching the station and going inert. Following Homsar's trail of destruction, they made good time in tracking him down and mopped up station security personnel attempting to confine Homsar into the trapped chamber.

Homsar noticed Zuzu well before that point, because as soon as the general got inside the station the thought screens isolating him were no longer relevant. Homsar threw Zuzu a sit-rep telepathically, and Zuzu filled him in on the Fleet's actions, so Homsar concluded: "Then we need to seize this thing. Send a squad to help me out, and you take the rest to seize command and control."

Zuzu did just that, and soon Homsar saw a mish-mash of Patrol marines outside the power plant. Together, Homsar got out. Then he led them to the other such room, cleared it, seized it, and from there directed Zuzu to the station's command center. Zuzu, wasting no time, bull-rushed the chamber and took out everyone in there within a few mad minutes of melee and maneuvering. Together they quickly ransacked the dying brains of the Sirian and Dragonsworn technicians running the station's systems for vital statistics and commands, and then assumed control of the station entirely.

As the first act, Zuzu threw down the thought screens and made contact with Admiral Campbell.

"Good news, Admiral!" Zuzu said, "Not only have I relieved Agent Delgana, but together we've reversed the situation and taken over the station. We can turn this against the Algolians at any time."

"Understood." Campbell said, "Time to end this."

Aboard The Master's flagship, The Master gasped and then slammed a balled fist against a bulkhead. "Alert all commands." he said, "Prepare for a two-front engagement. The fleet will shift to a double-half-globe formation, with this ship at the pivot point."

The captain of his flagship looked perplexed. The Master bore daggers at him: "They took the station! The trap failed, and now they're using it against us."

Homsar Delgana and the Dogs of Sirius-09

Homsar soon found himself shot down within the enormous battle station's superstructure. He emerged from the wreck of his boat clad in his powered armor, space axe clipped to one leg, and semi-portable blaster in his armored hands. A platoon of Sirians descended upon him, and Homsar--his rage evident on his face--fried them all in seconds. Klaxons sounded, alerting the station's personnel to Homsar's presence, but he didn't care; he wanted them to come, because he would bring righteous death to all of them as he made his way to the station's power plant and blow up the station.

The Master knew this, so he filled the station's personnel with all of the problem-cases in his organization, making their deaths superfluous to him and therefore expected- even desired. The fighting went non-stop throughout the station, with scores, then hundreds, and then thousands of Sirian marines dying at Homsar's hands. Once Homsar consumed all of the power for his blaster, he appropriated those of his foes. When those went dry, he drew his axe and killed man-to-man until he got more blasters. The opposition shuddered in horror, trying to stop this unstoppable juggernaut, but still they attacked in wave after wave and they died just as fast.

Outside, the Patrol Fleet hurried to reorganize but The Master's forces kept harrying them to delay as long as possible. Hit-and-fade attacks forced the Patrol to maintain a state of readiness that consumed their energies. Admiral Campbell saw through it straight away, but sighed as he saw himself unable to fix the trouble. He had his hands full keeping his fleet organized and disciplined in the face of such adversity from a competent and experienced foe.

Captain Simms and General Zuzu, however, were not idle. They gathered up a collection of crew and marines from broken ships and shattered units, took up a cruiser lacking a captain, and--with the Admiral's leave--slipped away from during the next attack. Informally dubbed Kinneson's Revenge, this rag-tag group of Patrolmen followed in pursuit of Homsar's captors along the last known trajectory. Simms had the engineers working on some sort of thing to screen them from sensors because otherwise the station would blow up this ship as easily as it did the Kinneson. Zuzu drilled the marines hard, knowing that he had little time to get them working cohesively as a unit before combat would force them to adhere or die.

From the bridge of his flagship, The Master simultaneously watched Homsar hack and blast his way through the station meant to be nothing more than a big trap for a powerful enemy while the Patrol sent ahead a single ship to come to said enemy's aid- before it disappeared from all of The Master's sensors, including his own powerful innate superhuman sense of perception. "Expected." The Master thought, "Accounted for, adjusting parameters to conform." and within the station the living Sirians now increased in number and ferocity in their attempts to bring Homsar down while the boat docks on the outside of the station's superstructure adjusted its attack boats' sensor suites to account for the presence of cloaked vessels.

However, the worst of the weapons arrayed against Homsar, his allies, and the Patrol in general remained the most passive one: a thought screen tuned to the range of frequencies known to be commonplace amongst the Patrol. This is what kept Homsar isolated from his allies and friends, and thus out of the loop on what they were up to outside the station. They could not inform Homsar about what the nature of the station really was, and instead could only hope to get to him before the trap closed on him utterly.

Homsar, as he approached the station's power plant, made quick work of the engineers and guards protecting it. He scanned the controls, quickly sussed which did what, and moved to set it to overload and destroy the station. As he threw open the last switch, bulkheads dropped into place and ship-level screens went up around the room. Then, in a moment of recognition, Homsar realized that he'd been played- and trapped in a room with a power plant now set to blow up, taking him with it, but--due to the screens and bulkheads--confining the damage to this one room. At this point, he also realized that a second power plant must exist, hidden from his own sense of perception.

The approach of Kinneson's Revenge soon saw that they too were not unexpected, as the station released its attack boats--drones, one and all--to swarm and destroy the Patrol cruiser. Simms called for battle stations, and all hands swiftly ran to their stations. The cruiser demonstrated a level of maneuverability heretofore unexpected by the drones, its primary and secondary batteries effectively engaging the attack boats while its defensive screens held up against their combined bombardment.

The Master watched as his enemies strove to defeat with passion what his logic arrayed against them. Only what he didn't know that he didn't know could stop him now, and The Master knew that; it's why he kept his personal fleet in reserve after withdrawing from battle. That said, even he did not notice that Admiral Campbell not only reorganized the Patrol Fleet, but successfully cloaked the entire fleet and got them underway- and left illusory images of the fleet in disarray behind. This would soon be dispelled as a ruse, but not soon enough to have its intended effect.

Homsar Delgana and the Dogs of Sirius-08

The Master watched the progress of both the Kinneson and the main Patrol Fleet on a viewscreen. He watched his own forces engage them, and other Patrol elements in the Sirius region, and noted the results of these engagements. On another viewscreen, he watch a stream of data regarding a device of great importance to him. He compared the two screens, adjusting an Estimated Time of Arrival on the fly as he did so. He did this for a few hours, and when he noticed both the main Patrol Fleet and the Kinneson cross a threshold on the map he glanced at the ETA and then brought up the ship captain on a third screen.

"Captain, this ship will take the advance position in the fleet formation. This fleet will now move to combat-ready status."

The captain saluted and the screen winked out. Klaxons went off, and faintly the Master heard the sounds of personnel rushing to duty stations. The third viewscreen returned to life with readouts of the fleet's formation and status updates. The Master said and did nothing as all ships in the fleet achieved ready status in a satisfactory manner.

The captain appeared on the screen again. "The fleet is ready and awaiting orders, sir."

"I will speak with all commands, captain." The Master said, and moments later he saw all of the commanders directly under him.

"The plan proceeds as expected. All variables are within projected parameters. This means that both the main Patrol Fleet and the Agent are due to arrive shortly, before the device is fully operational. We must hold the Patrol Fleet for no less than 30 minutes after their arrival, and we shall press them with utmost severity, compelling the Agent to arrive at best speed, but it is vitally important to keep them apart. We must hold the space that separates the two elements until the device is operational."

His subordinates nodded their understanding. They knew better than to question The Master.

"All ships will form up behind my flagship. I will personally lead the assault on the Patrol Fleet!"

His subordinates gasped.

"I will be armed and armored for personal combat. Do likewise. Expect boarding actions. Await orders. That is all."

The Master donned a suit of powered armor, and took up an axe. His suit possessed the ability to connect into his information systems, so he easily kept up his monitoring of the situation and then he inspected the various duty stations of his flagship during the time-to-contact interim. This put his crew into a state of heightened readiness, as they knew what became of crew that failed, but also a sense of admiration; unlike many Algolians, The Master's reputation--while bloody--was not one where one could die for arbitrary reasons (at least, if one were personnel and not extraneous courtiers) so it was seen as something of a good thing to be under his command.

When he took his place on the bridge, the Patrol Fleet came into contact and he ordered the fleet to battle.

"Spread out on all wings. Seek to half-englobe them."

Admiral Campbell, not a fool, reorganized the Patrol Fleet into a spindle formation in response and rushed the center point. The artillery fire began at maximum range for the primary batteries. The rays of searing light flashed across the sea of stars, and the screens protecting their vessels lit up as the frequencies of the beams dissonantly crossed those of the screens.

"Sir." the captain said, "We've identified the enemy flagship."

"Transmit target data to all commands. Focus all fire there and decapitate them."

The Patrol Fleet were no fools, as their fire also began to walk across the Algolian Fleet towards The Master's flagship.

"Captain, aggregate fleet screen management to this ship and activate the capacitors. Prepare for the Dolorus Stroke."

The captain saluted and executed the order. Across the Algolian Fleet, the screens of the vessels changed their frequency and modulation. The fire of the Patrol Fleet still hadn't beaten down any ship's screens, and now the close-order proximity of the Algolian Fleet revealed its strength: the power battering the screens began flowing from each vessel towards the flagship, and soon the bow of The Master's flagship began to glow like a sun in its own right. In the Patrol Fleet, Admiral Campbell recognized what was happening and immediately shifted tactics, but the Patrol Fleet's reorganization could not complete in time; The Master released the gathered power in a massive directed beam that lanced and burned through the center of the Patrol Fleet, outright destroying many ships and crippling many more- including Campbell's flagship.

"Forward elements are to contain the enemy while in disarray. Release marines and board the crippled vessels. Rear elements are to reorient to the rear and prepare to meet the Agent."

As Admiral Campbell and his staff hurried to abandoned the crippled flagship and move command to another vessel, the Kinneson arrived at the rear and charged into the fray with all batteries blasting away. In its wake, Homsar's own boat left the Kinneson and attempted to hide in its wake so as to slip into the Algolian Fleet and cause havoc that way, but both attempted got beaten back with punishing counter-battery fire and a firm screen of boats screening the ships.

The Master smiled as his plan reached its point of conclusion. The device's time of preparation concluded. With a gesture, he ordered to be put on open channels.

"Fools! You come now thinking yourselves able to foresee my aims and defeat my plans? No! It is I, The Master, who has brought you here to this space at this time, lured by phantoms of a weapon so terrible that none may defeat it! BEHOLD, FOOLS, THIS FULLY ARMED AND OPERATIONAL BATTLE STATION!"

Behind the Kinneson a planet-sized and shaped machine appeared. Out of its maw fired a massive beam, and instantly the Kinneson exploded in a fireball.

"Fully capable of trans-galactic travel! Easily able to annihilate entire systems in days! Can screen itself from detection of all sorts, and extend it outward for lightyears around! ALL SHALL KNEEL BEFORE THE MASTER!"

Without hesitation, Homsar turned his boat around and charged into the battle station. He easily dodged the battery fire attempting to shoot him down, and soon he closed with it. Admiral Campbell, now aboard another vessel, saw this happen as he arrived on the bridge to establish his command there, and he heard The Master's maniacal boasts- and worried. When he heard that Homsar turned to attack, he glimpsed the truth in a flash and tried to reach out to him telepathically- but, again, silence.

"Damn him!" Campbell said, "The interference! I can't reach Homsar!"

"But why?" the captain said.

"It's a trap! This whole operation is a trap- for him!"

Just as Homsar blasted open a hatch in the station's hull and flew into its superstructure, a bulkhead closed behind him and the familiar shift of going free washed over him. The Patrol Fleet, in astonishment, saw the massive station suddenly wink out and disappear into distant space. Unable to pursue, and blocked by The Master's own fleet, they held position.

"Withdraw." The Master said, "We're done here, and the enemy cannot interfere any longer."

The surviving Patrol vessels rescued their injured and recovered their damaged vessels, but still couldn't shake off the shock of seeing their best man captured and his friends slain- until, hours later, rescue crewed found Captain Simms and General Zuzu in escape pods, along with a few others.

"Reporting, Admiral."

"Acknowledged, men." Campbell said, "However bad today is, your survival will likely be what wins us the day in the end. Even Homsar thinks both of you are dead, and will proceed accordingly; he won't expect you two like he usually does. If we can catch up to that thing, and get you two in with as many men as we can spare, we can win this."

They nodded. "For now," Campbell said, "I'm putting your survival under seal; the fewer that know, the better."

Homsar Delgana and the Dogs of Sirius-07

Klaxons rang throughout the Patrol Fleet upon the detection of the massive Algolian Fleet closing in on them. Admiral Campbell immediately comprehended the nature of the threat and reorganized the Fleet into a spindle formation, sensing the enemy's weak spot and pushing for it. Long-range bombardment put a wedge at that flaw, and then short range bombardment took that wedge and forced open a whole. The Algolians reacted by letting the Patrol Fleet break through and regrouped at its rear, then advancing upon it from there to re-engage. This threatened to degenerated into a ring-shaped battle of attrition, but Admiral Campbell saw this coming.

Campbell organized the Fleet to mask itself, appearing smaller and smaller as it withdrew by having smaller ships run alongside the bigger ones so that electronic detection would produce erroneous results and visual ones would give false confirmation by being out of line of sight. The Algolians, thinking that they did serious damage, fell prey to their base instincts and charge headlong at the Patrol Fleet. The Fleet reformed its long line into a curved shape, and drew the Algolian fleet into a trap by masking a deliberate movement to withdraw in the middle for a weak point in their line. The Fleet then executed a double-envelopment with the wings, which spread in all dimensions to englobe the Algolians. The smaller ships emerged from their hiding spots and rushed into the voids in the fire between the fleets. Marines aboard those ships boarded enemy ships and threw the Algolians into disarray, as those enemies did not expect a wave of boarding attacks.

The Algolians responded by firing upon their own vessels, killing everyone and destroying all targets. When Campbell took note of this response, he had the boarding ships pull back, covering their withdrawl with massed volleys of missiles. Some of those missiles got through the massive wall of counter-battery fire, striking at the damaged Algolian vessels already in contact with the Patrol and disabling them. Campbell saw the void in in Algolian fire and ordered the boarders to re-engage along that line of attack, this time sticking close to enemy vessels as their new targets were the command vessels in the Algolian fleet. While few of the marines deployed met those stated aims, the disarray caused by the boarding actions so disrupted Algolian efforts to maintain cohesion that the Patrol Fleet had an easy time in further blunting the Algolian fleet's fighting capacity; Campbell ordered a shift towards crippling and disabling over destroying, the results being that a buffer of nigh-helpless enemy vessels soon manifested between the belligerents.

Once more, the Patrol Fleet sought to withdraw from battle. Their superior command and control, along with superior discipline, could only go so far. If this went on, the fatigue would begin to favor the Algolians and their superior numbers. Already, the Algolian fleet reorganized to take advantage of the fact; Campbell's staff told him how long they had before they could expect a new Algolian attack, the first of a series of tag-team maneuvers meant to wear down the Patrol Fleet. Admiral Campbell would not have it.

He played a hunch, and leaked that the Kinneson was behind the Algolian fleet cutting off supplies and tearing up their rear area with impunity. A faked distress call, and then another, and then another- all calling for aid. Campbell hoped not that they would cut and run to respond, but rather that it would throw their command into sufficient disarray to make them unable to respond effectively to the Patrol's withdraw.

This is what happened. The subordinates in the Algolian fleet got to questioning their orders, which lead to the usual internal discipline issues--summary execution for insubordination, and ambitious underlings using those opportunities to take promotions from their superiors' corpses--and that chaos disrupted operations for some time. In that chaos, the Patrol Fleet disengaged and withdrew from battle entirely. Once away, they went free and threw open the throttles on their jets, getting very far from them very fast.

At this moment, Campbell attempted to contact Homsar telepathically, but got no reply.

Meanwhile, The Master saw the results of the engagement, and made no indication of approval or dismay. All he did was order the fleet to pursue, and not too close.

"The Patrol cannot comprehend what I have waiting for them." he said, "Once unleashed, total victory is inevitable."

Homsar Delgana and the Dogs of Sirius-06

"You called it, Homsar." Captain Simms said as he watched the Dragonsworn ships close in on the Kinneson.

"They're standing between us and the Fleet." Homsar said, "Their boss is very, very good."

"One on twenty. Not be good, man." General Zuzu said.

Simms looked at Homsar, Homsar looked at Zuzu, and then Zuzu nodded.

"Battle stations." Simms said, and then Zuzu took up the comlink. "Marines, get ready to board!"

Klaxons sounded, rustling resting crewmen to their stations while Zuzu's marines clamored for the armory. As fire teams, gunnery crews, medical teams, and marines rushed about Homsar and Zuzu hurried to join the marines in the armory. Simms called out to Fire Control to track the hostiles and plot out their trajectories, because he knew what Homsar had in mind.

The Dragonsworn ships launched auxiliaries--assault craft, missile boats--and the Kinneson now found itself in a target-rich environment. Simms loved these situations, and the Kinneson excelled in dealing with them. The gunners, coordinated through Fire Control, took aim at the enemy's array of vessels and on Simms command they opened fire. The Dragonsworn fells launched their missiles in one massive volley, all of which got shot down by the counter-volley fire from the Kinneson. The gunners, taking their orders from Fire Control, did not miss one inbound warhead and fired for effect to maximize their effectiveness. The sea of stars lit up with moments of explosive glory, flashes of powerful warheads that would vaporize what it hit, lanced by coruscating beams of matching power and intensity as the Kinneson maneuvered out of the line of fire and into a better position to counter-attack.

However, behind that volley came the Dragonsworn assault craft and they came inbound looking to ram and board. Again the batteries of ordinance aboard the Kinneson lit up the eternal night of space. Fire Control coordinated the gunners' aim, sending their flashes of brilliant death lancing right through the cores of those assault craft, outright blowing them away in a single shot- and sometimes more than one craft in a single blow. Some of them discharged their marines before being blown away, going free and jetting at speed for the Kinneson, to which General Zuzu and the Darkspears took their challenge and met it with semi-portable blaster fire coming from their positions on the hull- held in place by electro-magnets in their boots.

Naval ordinance and personal weaponry lit up space about them, and the surviving Dragonsworn marines cut their way through to make contact and engage in close-combat. General Zuzu, with a space axe in each hand, leapt about from unit to unit to cackling with glee as he charged one Dragonsworn after the next. He cut them down, hacked them into pieces, sliced off heads and limbs, and took great joy in bringing the pain to them. Not that his men were any less a warrior, but they had their hands full and that left Zuzu to do this work so his men could do theirs- and in short order the enemy's attempt to board the Kinneson collapsed.

The Dragonsworn, seeing their initial attack fail, moved in with their capital ships and bombarded the Kinneson. Captain Simms kept the con and Fire Control busy as he sought to force a brawl, but the Dragonsworn kept good discipline and did not permit Simms' plan to proceed. The screens on the Kinneson exploded as they resisted the enemy's bombardment, but they held- for now.

"Simms," Homsar said, "I'm in my boat. Ready to go when you are."

"Go." Simms said.

Homsar exited the Kinneson, and made as if he attempted to breakthrough to flee. The Dragonsworn ships made a half-hearted attempted to stop him, and that's when Homsar turned and pounced on them. Being just as manueverable, and just as fast, as the Kinneson while being much smaller made their gunners' shots at him miss well off the mark. Homsar darted in and out of their formation, using his position to his advantage and forcing them to turn their attention to him. This meant that the Kinneson could get a clear shot, and one good volley would take that ship out of the fight. This happened a few more times, and that created holes in the enemy formation. Unable to reorganize in good order fast enough, the Dragonsworn ships soon fell into disarray and the formation fell apart.

"I've discerned their flagship." Homsar said telepathically to Simms and Zuzu, "Let's clear out the rest and then board them."

Despite being outnumbered, the two Patrol vessels overcame the Dragonsworn and soon indeed the flagship was isolated. It attempted to flee, but first Homsar and then Zuzu rammed it, breached it, and boarded it. The remaining crew and security personnel fought like the cornered rats that they were, but Homsar and Zuzu combined made it inevitable that they would seize the bridge. When they breached that door, they found the bridge crew dead- shot by the captain, who was about to shoot himself in the head. Homsar sliced off that hand with his axe in a swift leaping strike, and then took him out with the flat on the backstroke. Zuzu and his men took him back to the Kinneson, and once all Patrol personnel were gone they scuttled all of the now-helpless vessels by bombardment.

Back aboard the Kinneson, with a well-screened cell holding their prisoner, Homsar nodded at Simms. Simms ordered for an intercept course with the Fleet.

"Homsar to Fleet." Homsar said telepathically, "We've reason to believe that the enemy's drawing you into a trap. Don't let them bait you into a head-long pursuit. We're coming to meet with you."

There was no reply. Elsewhere, The Master--seeing the results go as planned--cackled. He pressed a button, and elsewhere in space a massive fleet of Algolian minions appeared out of nowhere to meet the Patrol Fleet.

Homsar Delgana and the Dogs of Sirius-05

Aboard the Kinneson, Homsar stood next to Captain Simms--it's commanding officer--and General Zuzu of the Darkspear Marine Regiment. Each of the three veterans of the Patrol looked about, noticing that the crew and marines made no attempt to hide their excitement at having Homsar with them again.

"This campaign of harassment is going quite well." Captain Simms said, "We're clearly having the desired affect."

"Agreed." General Zuzu said, "We be meetin' th' expected opposition."

"We're bound to force a reaction out of the enemy soon." Simms said, "They can't let us hit and run like this for much longer."

"Agreed." Homsar said, stroking his chin.

"I know that look." Simms said.

"What you be t'inkin'?" Zuzu said.

"Bring up the map." Homsar said, and Simms wordlessly ordered it so.

"Mark out our actions, the fleet's actions, and all known enemy actions." Homsar said, and Simms made it so. The stellar cartographer marked out on the star chart all of the campaign events to date. Fleet engagements with the enemy's forces, refugee patterns, piracy reports, planetary upheavals, and their own raiding actions in the enemy's rear all came on screen to compose a picture showing an emerging pattern of the enemy's strategy. Pirates and planetary upheavals preceding enemy fleet action in nearby systems, diluting Patrol responses and allowing the enemy to engage on their terms. If not for Homsar and his friends running rampant in their rear, the enemy would have a clear advantage over the Patrol.

"I think I see what you're on about, Homsar." Simms said, "There's a clear pattern."

"So do I." Zuzu said.

Homsar scanned the picture, staring at it, searching through it for something he seemed certain was there. He saw the that the pattern of enemy behavior not only followed a linear pattern, but a three-dimensional one also; the strategy served to draw the Patrol's fleet further from its bases of support and keep it from concentrating all of its assets, instead drawing the vanguard into the the bottom of a cone-shaped well.

"Do you see this?" Homsar said, marking on the map what he perceived.

Simms and Zuzu watched, and as they comprehended the implications they nodded in agreement.

"Dey be layin' a trap for da Fleet." Zuzu said.

"Which means that their leader is there. This is a web, and the Fleet's been entangled in it." Simms said.

"We be needin' ta get in dere first." Zuzu said, "Dey not be expectin' anyt'in' like us."

"No." Homsar said, "Not yet."

Simms and Zuzu looked at expectantly.

"It's a trap all right." Homsar said, "But not for the Fleet, not primarily. The Fleet is the bait."

Simms looked at each other, and then gasped.

"Yes, my friends. All of this is meant to do one thing: draw me into the trap. This 'Master' is no fool, and I can only deduce that he learned what became of his counterpart."

* * * * *

Aboard the Algolian flagship, The Master studied a stream of data coming in from all of his minions. In the last 30 seconds, he ordered the execution of 700 officers for incompetence, approved the deployment of Generation Four hybrids for terror operations throughout the sector, and received word that the remnants of The Dragonsworn are now in position. He now addressed their leader by viewscreen.

"Warlord Moonguard." The Master said, "Your time has come. I now transmit the coordinates of a Patrol ship, the Kinneson. Aboard that ship is Homsar Delgana, who leads the raiders harassing our logistical chain. Seek, locate, exterminate!"

The reptile-man made the same obsequious salute as the other minions, and winked out of view. The Master's wretched minion slide into view before him.

"Master, they go to certain death."

"Of course." The Master said, "The Agent expects that I do something about his actions, so I fulfill those expectations. That they succeed in stopping him is not an issue."

"Then they will convince him to come?"

"No. He will come. That I already know is certain. What I must do is to compel him to come as I desire, not as he desires. I shall also pull the Patrol Fleet, drawing them in further than they would like. Playing on their known operational priorities makes them predictable, and predictable opposition is easily controlled- and easily destroyed. The Fleet needs to believe that they must come to the rescue of the planets I attack, and then to their most treasured Agent, while said Agent needs to believe that my destruction of the Fleet is immanent and he must rush to the rescue or all is lost."

"So, you play on their benevolence to bring prey to the kill?"

"We will kill both of these targets before they can unite against us. Besides, I have several surprises in reserve that I alone am aware of and will put to use at the proper moments. Victory was certain before I let slip that I existed to the Patrol, and once we are victorious here I shall go on to break the Patrol and restore our power over those fools who think that they can escape The Master."

The wretched minion suddenly convulsed in spasms, and then slumped to the floor dead.

"Minions need to remember not to question their Master."

Homsar Delgana and the Dogs of Sirius-04

Throughout Sirius Prime, sudden outbreaks of violence erupted when seemingly-random individuals suddenly mutated into hideous, monstrous hulking brutes and go berserk. Their rampages mindlessly attack property and people without discernible rhyme or reason. The local gendarme proved ill-suited to deal with the monsters; it took the concentrated fire of a dozen to a score of them, with their blasters on maximum, to take one down and that's when they got it to stand still look enough for such concentrated firepower to work. However, their long association with the Patrol served them well; they stayed in good order, as best they could, despite being overmatched and called to the Patrol base for assistance.

On that Patrol base, Homsar Delgana took up his powered armor and matching axe--dropped to him by his boat--and got right up in the face of his enemy. As Homsar has made himself famous within the Patrol, he immediately moved into melee combat. Despite the mutants' ferocity, might, and toughness their rage crippled their reason and thus undermined their perception and skill in battle. This weakness Homsar exploited without mercy or malice, perceiving their blows before their limbs struck out at him and making a mockery of their attempts to smash him. The frustration increased their rage, further reducing their reason and accelerating the cycle. The score or so of prisoners-turned-monsters that smashed their way out of the brig on base and damaged many of the buildings and materiel thereafter soon slumped to the dirt, slain by Homsar and his mastery of the Patrol's fighting arts.

Homsar was not idle in mind as he dealt with the breakout. He penetrated their weak minds with his own as easily as he penetrated their tough flesh with his axe, cutting through the induced rage-madness sparked by a sudden and insurmountable pain to find the signature of the Algolian mastermind known as "The Master" in the genetic alterations made to the prisoners. Quickly collecting their memories as their lives crashed with their corpses, Homsar took a good look--from the perspective of his fallen foes--at how this came to be.

At some point in the past, each of these men spent time suspended in a sensory-deprivation tank. The fluids within not only sustained their bodies, but also served to facilitate the application of genetic treatments that The Master and his staff devised for them. Homsar saw that a few of them took note of a monitor that seemed to track both a silhouette seemingly of a physically-normal male of their kind and the monstrous forms that they would assume on command. He also saw, without a doubt, what The Master looked like: a beautiful, nigh-perfect male example of that race, but with a lens-like crystal in its forehead.

Homsar quickly edited the memories into a coherent report and beamed it telepathically to the Admiral. "Here's what we're looking for." Homsar said, telepathically, "I'm going to assist the locals. Have your men start scouring medical reports for these signs, and hope that we've not seen all of them activated just yet."

"Understood, Homsar." the Admiral said, "I'll detail this to my staff and have it as top priority."

Homsar then took command of the relief column heading to relieve the locals. Securing all of the cities on the planet took Homsar a few days, for that was due to the competence and cooperation of the locals with the Patrol. Semi-portable blasters attached to trucks allowed small crews of men to move quickly from point to point, letting them fry and fly so that they could burn down the monsters before they got smashed by them. Homsar coordinated it all, while doing his own share of the work, with the aide of the local officials. This plan limited collateral damage and eliminated civilian injuries once enacted. Once the last of the monsters went down, Homsar quickly got the officials to agree to recovery of the corpses and remanding them over to the Patrol; being an Agent-At-Large has its uses, and one of them is as an unbeatable symbol of trust and value.

The autopsies of the corpses revealed the evidence of genetic tampering that Homsar previously acquired. The Admiral and his staff tracked where all of the monsters went for the last decade or so, and it revealed that all of them--at one point or another--were either pirates or prisoners thereof and subsequently returned to the Republic and everyday life. Since there was no reason to look for this specific tampering, none of them got detected, and thus this entire event showed premeditation on a scale and scope that only a few enemies of the Republic could even conceive of executing- let alone doing it. After a total of a week, Homsar and the Admiral met in the latter's office to go over the results.

"The additional reports coming in from all over this sector of space show clear signs of this being part of a larger plan." the Admiral said, "Homsar, I called home and put in a request on your behalf. I want you to take up the more independent and hands-on part of our counter-action plan."

Homsar smiled. That rarely meant anything other than what the Admiral's lieutenant came into the office to report.

"Admiral, the Kinneson has arrived. Captain Simms sends his regards, and wishes to say that the Darkspear Regminent's commander awaits his good friend's arrival."

"I accept your request." Homsar said, "Send my copy of the plan to the Kinneson, under seal. We can conclude this meeting once I'm aboard."

The lieutentant turned to Homsar. "Your boat?"

"Already being brought aboard, son." Homsar said, "That ship, those marines, and their C.O.s and I go way back. The Admiral can tell you all about it."

With that, Homsar took his leave. The Admiral waved his staff officer over.

"Pay attention," the old man said, "for that could be you soon enough. Chances are good that he'll request that I detach you to him once we've got this end of the operation under control. If that happens, then I'll grant that request right away. You need the experience, and he'll teach you well."

Elsewhere, far away, The Master sat in repose in his well-concealed lair in the hinterlands of known space. With a flash of the crystal embedded in his forehead, a klaxon went off. Immediately, a minion scurried to his side.

"Master!" the wretch said, "What is the alarm?"

"The initial gambit did not succeed as I had hoped. We must move to Phase 2 immediately. Link me with all commands."

The minion hurried to do its master's bidding, and a mass of faces appeared as holograms before him.

"All commands are to escalate immediately to Phase 2. G-Hour is NOW! Time for the wolves to feast."

The many faces, wearing many uniforms (if at all), gave the same obsequeous salute and said in unison: "Victory or Death!" before winking out.

The Master then turned to another screen, where he saw another uniformed minion: "Captain, move the flagship to Phase 2's position, and maintain combat readiness."

The captain saluted wordlessly and the screen winked out. Over the intercom came an announcement to the crew to move the ship, and The Master smiled.

"You can slay the Dragon, Patrolmen, but none can beat the Master."

Homsar Delgana and the Dogs of Sirius-03

Upon arrival at Sirius Prime, Homsar went with Sprage to the Patrol base there. Awaiting them sat Admiral Campbell, himself a veteran of the Algol War, and a young Agent--Lieutenant Vance--assigned to his staff.

"Homsar!" Campbell said, "When Vance briefed me on your report, I did a double-take. The last I heard, you were in Alpha-Centauri tracking down a rogue geneticist. What brought you my way?"

Homsar shook the Admiral's hand. "Had I not come across Commander Sprage's distress call, I would have give you a courtesy notice before I arrived. As it is, what I came out this way for turned out to be valid."

"You mean the Dragonsworn?" Vance said, holding up a stick, "I collected all of the intelligence we have on hand, at the Admiral's request."

Homsar smiled. "Good thinking, Lieutenant. First assignment?"

Vance nodded.

Homsar looked over to Campbell. "The prisoners?"

"Isolated and screened, as requested."

"Then let's get on with it." Homsar said.

Vance secured the room and lowered the lights while Campbell handed tablets to Homsar and Sprage. Vance plugged the stick into a projector unit, and he began a slideshow.

"After Agent Delgana's previous encounter with the Dragonsworn, word spread throughout the Patrol's leadership to review existing files where a known link to the Algolians existed. These files, cross-referenced in real-time by Agents engaged in a wide-open multi-node connection, produced a final list that we found to be immediately actionable. The Republic President and the Patrol Chief Coordinator signed off on that list 24 hours ago, with distribution to begin earlier today- about when Agent Delgana intervened to assist Commander Sprage."

Vance then handed Homsar another stick.

"This list was to be made public 24 hours after all Agents received their copies. Having handed Delgana his copy, that countdown has now begun."

Vance advanced the presentation through a series of slides showing all known ship types, vehicles, armors, weapons, etc. and emphasizing those used by the Patrol's enemies.

"One of our discoveries was that the many pirate groups, crime syndicates, guerilla forces, and other known enemies of the Patrol deploy vessels and other technologies that share common design elements and aesthetic motifs. Given that the species comprising these hostiles are a diverse array of sentient species, with some--like the Dogs of Sirius--being genetically identical to baseline Mankind and others being so different that being barely humanoid is as close as some get, this commonality of technological sophistication cannot be emergent. It points to an unknown benefactor gifting technology to client groups, on the condition that it be used against the Patrol and Civilization."

The Admiral then spoke up. "I assume that the working group then sought other, supporting elements that would support this claim?"

"Correct, sir." Vance said, "Seeing that these diverse groups seemed to share a common backer, and that this backer may be the same sort that Delgana encountered previously, we retrieved and sorted through the autopsies and similar files regarding these groups and their area of operations. We sought signs of deliberate genetic tampering, and we found it. After careful examination, with parties external to the group confirming our suspicions, we put in our report the evidence for our suspicions and recommended that a detection protocol be immediately established and promulgated throughout known space. This too got signed off, and is included in the copies provided."

"Lieutenant," Homsar said, "did your group examine the possibility of infiltrating genetically-altered individuals into places vulnerable to attack by remotely-triggered hostiles?"

"We did." Vance said, "However, without evidence that this possibility could be acted upon in the near term it was not taken seriously by the President and so only an advisory action got sanctioned."

At that point, Homsar looked back at Vance wordlessly, and Vance took up a comlink. "Vance to the brig: situation report on the prisoners."

On the other end, all in the room could faintly hear the sound of things pounding on walls and blaster fire.

"This is the brig! Something happened to the prisoners, sir! They've mutated into giant hulks and are breaking out of their cells!"

Homsar nodded at Vance. "What happened to the mental screens?" Vance said.

"Screens? There were suppossed to be screens? Sir, I- AAAGUH!"

Homsar jumped to his feet and made for the door. "Alarm!" the Admiral said, "Don't let them escape!"

Homsar Delgana and the Dogs of Sirius-02

Homsar found the mind of the one that sought parley with him, and he made short work of the prisoner's feeble mental screens. Now able to rummage through the prisoner's mind as he willed, Homsar had no problem speaking with the prisoner while mentally searching his mind. For the sake of formality, Sprage stood next to him, but for all intents and purposes this was now Homsar's business and both men knew it.

"I am Captain Gamilas." the prisoner said, saluting, "You are the Republic Agent, I presume?"

"Homsar Delgana." he said, "Agent-At-Large. The man behind me is the commanding officer of this Patrol squadron, Commander Sprage."

"I would have preferred better circumstances." Gamilas said, "But this will have to do."

"Your attack wasn't meant to succeed." Homsar said, "You deliberately sandbagged your own efforts, minimizing casualties while maintaining a plausible threat to extend your time on the target. We've analyzed your ships. Even accounting for differences in technologies and crew competency, you should have done better than you did."

Captain Gamilas sighed. "True." he said, "The real objective was to maintain a plausible scenario for defeat and capture; my subordinates that escaped will report back your intervention occurred sooner than actually happened, taking us entirely by surprise as we expected different Patrol responses than what happened."

"You're defecting." Sprage said.

"Correct." Gamilas said.

Homsar telepathically connected to Sprage. "He's not lying, so far. That's not the whole story, but it is the truth."

"The Dragonsworn have your kind in thrall." Homsar said.

"Correct again." Gamilas said, "The Master, as they call their leader, fell upon us a score of your years ago. Using technologies we knew nothing about, The Master seized control of our homeworld and assimiliated us into its own networks within a year. Every leader we had either died fighting them or got turned into its thrall, as did much of our population. Since then, we've been exploited as workers and soldiers. Some of the more craven amongst us did join the ranks of the Dragonsworn, turning traitor in return for power and wealth beyond avarice."

Homsar delved into Gamilas's memories, seeing that his blue-skinned fell suddenly under invasion as Earth did when the Algolians attacked Homsar's homeworld. The timeline matches up to this happening concurrently with the Algolian War, with the same initial defeat, but the changes coming with this Algolian invasion led by a far more ruthless master. Defeated natives ended up in camps and forcibly experimented upon, transformed into one of a series of telepathically-enslaved, genetically-engineered monsters and deployed as terror weapons against their own people until all resistance ended with the collapse of the last significant faction. The survivors, originally from the Sirius sector, now served the Algolians as a slave race- these are the whispered "Dogs of Sirius", pirates and raiders preying upon the Patrol and its worlds throughout the Sirius Sector.

"So, you risk all seeking to make contact with the Republic, hoping that we will come to your people's aide?"

The captain nodded. "Yes, and after you aide in our liberation we would be glad to join."

Just then, Gamilas's eyes blanked. Homsar sensed the presence of a far more powerful mind seizing control of the captain's body. He nodded, and Sprage shot Gamilas thrice. As the prisoner's body slumped to the floor, unconscious, Homsar met the enemy mind; mental screens--unnoticed to all else aboard--warbled like rippling water after a splash with each mental blow thrown, a brawl of brains beyond the ordinary senses of those lacking in the mental discipline common to Agents. Homsar got knocked off-balance, as it were, with a sudden shot from an unexpected quarter of mind-space and that let the enemy mind escape and evade further attention.

"Algolian?" Sprage said, holstering his sidearm.

"Yeah, and a ruthless, vicious brute of one. White noise around the brig, and best speed for Sirius Prime." Homsar said.

"What of Gamilas?" Sprage said.

"Segregation. No one unscreened sees him, and no one but your or I talks about him. He's been spotted, and if this Algolian is as I think then every last thing of value to him back home is already dead and gone. His crew likewise forfeit their homes and families for this."

"Homsar, one thing." Sprage said after giving orders to the helm do as Homsar declared, "The genetic manipulation bit bothers me."

"Yeah, I thought so too. There's bound to be hidden triggers; there's no way this Algolian won't have failsafes in his Jannisaries. They have to stay in the brig until we can screen them during transfer. One slip up and we may see them hulk out and go on a rampage."

"Like Lichtenstein." Sprage said.

"Yeah," Homsar said as he recalled that horrific day, "like Lichtenstein."

Homsar Delgana and the Dogs of Sirius-01

Deep in the void of space, a teardrop-shaped starship cruised from star to star. This was the Howard, a Campbell-class cruiser of the Patrol seconded indefinitely to Agent-At-Large Homsar Delgana--its sole crewman and occupant--who laid in repose in his quarters meditating upon matters great and small while the autopilot handled the routine of interstellar travel.

A klaxon activated, and Homsar let forth his special sense of perception. He sensed, as if bodily present, that a transmission on the emergency band now reached the Howard. In moments, Homsar awoke and rushed himself to the cockpit; this was important enough to handle awake, and not merely by way of mental technique.

"Mayday! Mayday! This is the R.S.S. DeCamp, calling all Patrol vessels within range. We are under attack by unknown hostiles, counting 30 ships. Our squadron is in disarray, and we request immediate assistance!" Homsar immediately checked the Patrol network; no vessels were within range other than his own, none that could arrive in time. Homsar repeated the signal to the nearest Patrol base, and then strapped himself into the pilot's chair.

"DeCamp, this is the Howard. Light up your beacon and hold fast. Help is on the way. Over."

Homsar faintly heard his name said in the background, followed by cheering. "Hurry, Howard, they're a lot stronger than your usual pirates. Over and out." Homsar threw open the throttle, and at maximum thrust the Howard closed the distance within minutes. As he approached the DeCamp's position he projected his sense of perception forward to acquire up-to-date intelligence. What he sensed was an orbital fleet battle in the Sirius system, where a hostile flotilla ambushed a Patrol squadron near a heretofore ill-known planet and its moon. The ambush broke the Patrol formation, in part because this was a training cruise for Patrol cadets and in part because the Patrol had no reason to expect hostiles in this area of space, but failed to destroy any Patrol ships yet; despite being outnumbered a little over two to one, and getting hammered hard, so far the Patrol cadets have held their ground.

Homsar found the squadron commander, the captain of the DeCamp, a Commander Sprage- an aging Patrol fleet officer, now relegated to teaching these new recruits, whose best years were well behind him. Yet those best years were during the Algolian War, and Homsar remembered Sprage from his youth as one far more respected than he is today.

"Commander Sprage!" Homsar said over the comm, "Come in."

"This is Sprage actual." Sprage said, relieved, "I'm holding it together here, trying to get my ships back in order, but it's damned tough."

"I'm coming in 45 degrees above your plane at 9 o'clock." Homsar said, "I'm going to slice away at the outer edges and push them back to you. Regroup in a tortoise shell formation and switch over to close-range bombardment."

"Understood." Sprage said, and he gave those exact orders to the squadron. As Homsar stated, he entered the fray high over the DeCamp's position off the port bow. He switched over to the maneuver drives, going inert, and ripped into the three nearest hostile starships. Between his own fire and that of the Patrol vessel he aided, those ships got knocked out of the fight and attempted to disengage. Homsar wouldn't let them, and drove them inward instead. He repeated this maneuver several times, putting the hostiles between his fast-acting cruiser and the Patrol's well-armed ships. The result was that several of the hostile vessels got sunk, a few more disabled, and the rest broke away and fled for home. Neither Homsar nor the squadron decided to pursue. The disabled ships got boarded by Patrol Marines, and despite fierce resistance they too were overcome; most of the hostile crews died, with only a handful still alive for interrogation.

Afterwords, on the DeCamp, Homsar met with Commander Sprage and his subordinates.

"We managed to collect the remains of the enemy vessels destroyed, and prize crews are aboard the captured ones. We'll make for Sirius Prime from here and turn these over to the Patrol office there." Sprage said, "On behalf of all of us, I'd like to thank you for coming to our aid."

Homsar waived it off. "As if I wouldn't come." Homsar said, "You know better, Commander."

"That only means that nothing more important hadn't come to your attention." Sprage said, and then one of the crewmen entered the room.

"Sir, one of the prisoners requests parley. We believe it is the ship's captain."

Sprage stood up, but the crewman stopped him. "No, sir, not with you. He wants parley with Agent Homsar."

Homsar gave the young cadet the look that said "And he wants to speak with me why?" The crewman then said, "He said 'Dragonsworn', sir.", and that was enough for both Homsar and Sprage.

Legacy of the Hero: The Last Meets the First-21

The Difference Between the Sword and the Knife

Yearling planted a wooden post into the ground and Zacharion had Sihaya attack it time and again with a variety of weapons. They also had her spar against them, individually and both at once. In both cases, Zacharion pressed her firmly and Yearling pressed her fiercely, showing her how to deal with the often unfavorable conditions put before her. They also used their gifts from the Sun and the Moon to soothe the pains of body and mind while facilitating the comprehension of lessons, accelerating what ordinarily would take years into weeks.

Meanwhile, the boys would take turns investigating the area about their camp. Yearling, in particular, hunted regularly to provide for the three of them. The waters nearby provided what game could not, so the three lived simply but well enough for their needs. The three quickly developed the skills in Sihaya that she needed, polishing those of the boys in doing so.

After one session, in the evening, Sihaya smiled as she bit into a piece of venison. Then she turned to Zacharion and said “Are you pleased with your sword?”

“No,” he said, “but I am rather pleased with my knife.”

Sihaya looked at him, puzzled. “Am I not to be your weapon?”

Zacharion smiled. “A sword is excellent on the defense. Its length is that of a man’s arm, and with the proper balance it is a light and powerful extension of that arm. A warrior can block blows with ease, warding away death, and then once his assailants are over-extended he strikes. Yes, he may kill them, but more important is to drive them away.

A knife is different. It is short and while one can learn to defend while using it, it is instead the case that using a knife requires a mode of aggression one need not have with a sword. If one seeks to fight with a knife, one must commit wholeheartedly to the strike- he must kill in his heart before he ever kills with his hand. They are made with different intentions behind their use; you must master this.”

Sihaya paused in her eating to take in Zacharion’s words.

“What of the spear and other weapons?” she asked, curious.

“The spear is a pole with a blade on its tip. Like the sword, it is a weapon one uses first and foremost to defend- principally, oneself. Staves are used in a similar manner to spears when used with two hands, using reach and leverage to wear away opponents until they can strike and then—again—it is to drive them away or compel submission, not to kill. Killing is, at best, secondary as it is with swords. The same is true of clubs and axes, as these are tools first.

The knife is not these things. One has to commit to the kill before driving it home, because to strike that blow and be effective one has to risk all. This is not so with other war-making tools. Those are tools for fighting. The knife is a tool for killing, and that makes all of the difference.”

Yearling, also sitting at that fire, nodded his concurrence.

“One does not take up the bow or spear to kill. They fight with such things, but it is enough to wound a foe and either capture or drive off that foe. When one draws his knife and intends to use it, he must intend to kill and only kill with it or he will fail against his foe every time. If the foe is armed, then he must use cunning to get past those arms. If armored, he must strike past it somehow and that also takes cunning. Heart and hand must be devoted to the slaying without question, for nothing else will do.”

Sihaya recalled the bruises sustained when she hesitated and let either of the boys smite her with slim branches acting as training weapons, or throw her to the ground, or grapple her into a hold she could not break.

“With our aide, you’ve come a long way in a short period of time.” Zacharion said, “Yet there is more to master. You have the hands, but not yet the mind or heart.”

“You must learn to forge your love into the knife within yourself.” Yearling said, “A woman’s will to kill comes most fierce from defense of family, and in that task we can only guide you- you must do this work yourself.”

Sihaya looked upon the two she had come to trust with more than her life, and she saw that they—who, like she, was not yet of age—had already killed at least once in exactly the manner that she now learned. They carried knives, had killed with those knives, and not in self-defense; her father, by comparison, had trained her only to fight and from the same premise of defense. She knew to defeat an opponent, though she had slain them in recent days, but this was something else. She was a nascent warrior- they were killers, manslayers, stalkers, the very threat she learned to combat.

“Why would you want a woman to be as you are?”

“When you next see your mother,” Yearling said, “ask her. ‘Keela of the Knife’ is not purely due to her use of knives as a healer.”

Sihaya was about to object, when Zacharion waved her off saying “Not now. Confront her when the time comes, and not before. Trust that I know what needs to be done and why, for when you must act you shall- without hesitation.”

“Sleep on it, sister.” Yearling.

“Tomorrow, we go into the ruins. We’ve tarried here long enough.” Zacharion said, “It is time to move on.”

Legacy of the Hero: The Last Meets the First-5

Darkness Comes to the Solar Court

Lord Acton left the seat of Zebulon’s power, returning to his family’s city lodgings just outside of the palace, when the royal couple retired to their chambers and took the boy as their guest. Several of his allies and followers left with him, all of them accompanying him to the Acton House. Over the day, a steady flow of callers arrived and left, until the evening when Lord Acton hosted a score of lords at his table for dinner.

Once served, the men sealed the room and the house at Acton’s order. Each man present held forth their hands, making the sign of a pyramid with them. “Masters of the Temple” Acton said, his voice intoning a ritualist’s cadence, “we meet because the Great Design demands our attention. We of the Temple, the true brothers of the Brilliant Ones, must now know that the Usurper’s Master is dead.”

As one, the others responded “The flaw in the Design is repaired.”

“Yet there remains a threat. Ilker’s final student, though a boy, bears the man’s symbol upon his brow. He is not to be dismissed, or underestimated, but treated with the seriousness of a grown man.”

“Yet the Design remains unfulfilled.”

“Masters, now we must decide on what to enact next.” Acton said, and with a wave of his hand the mood shifted and the men relaxed out of their ritualist poses.

A secured servant tended to their wishes for food and drink.

“Lord Acton,” one said, “news of Ilker’s death has indeed moved fast. Already word speeds away to the Sea Princes, to the Legion-Fold Lakes, and one of my sons heard from one of the Sons of Ken that they already knew. That boy’s arrival was no mere fulfillment of a dying man’s wish.”

“All explainable by plain means,” another said, “because as soon as we left court runners and riders and flyers great and small flew away from the Usurper’s seat to all places hither and yon.”

“Ilker’s Peace shall die with Ilker.” Acton said, “The Usurper must know this to be true, so he has to act soon if he wishes some measure of it to remain.”

A third grinned wickedly. “We have an opportunity, masters, one wherein we can regain our former dominion. My spies within the court tell me that the boy intends to seek out the entirety of Ilker’s surviving allies and students, or the heirs thereof, as he did with the Usurper and his whore.”

Acton smiled. “I concur. This boy will lead us to the rest of Ilker’s companions, allowing us to strike them from the Design one by one. I would think that the ostensible reason is to return items of personal value to their former owners, but in fact it is to put this boy on a journey meant to foster his development into Ilker’s true and faithful successor- to recreate our now-deceased foe in a new form. We cannot allow this to happen.”

The other lords at the table paused in their feasting and looked at Acton, stunned.
“Fellow Masters, before the sun rises tomorrow we must move against Zebulon and the boy. Do we not have means available to do this?”

“Hold there,” a fourth said, “for is this not rash action? The boy will be held here for a few days, as the Usurper shall surely seek to assess his late master’s last student for himself, and there is sure to be a state funeral to celebrate Ilker’s death and make orderly the widespread knowledge of that death. If this is to be done, it must be done with precision and accuracy for we shan’t get a second chance.”

“No, think a bit more, fellow master.” Now a fifth spoke up, “We need not succeed in killing either, so long as the Usurper is struck down long enough to remove him and the boy’s flight allows us to track him without error. Only one target actually needs to die, and that’s the Usurper’s daughter.”

The men of the table quickly concurred by nodded ascent.

“Masters,” Acton said, “I think we are agreed on the immediate issue then?”

As one, they acclaimed their consent by a show of hands. Acton then continued: “Then let those with the ears of the disgruntled, degenerate and desperate whisper words into them. Whisper that Old Zebulon intends to marry his daughter to the boy, cementing his hold on the realm past his own days and ensuring that his regime endures also- at their continued expense. Promise them riches and glory as liberators and heroes, and see that foreign treasure fills their purses.”

Already, some of the lords present produced pens and called for paper and ink.

“Then others with the ears of the old houses should warn them of the treachery, and compel them to make ready. Help them put their sons into the watches and stations at the needed times, and their daughters in the beds of unwary allies and minions of the Usurper. Quietly ensure that Solarian gold fills their vaults, so they be able to procure passages fair and foul to see this done.”

More lords now called for ink and paper.

“We perceive the flaw, engage the problem, prompt a reaction- and then enact the solution. Once the Usurper is put down and his ties severed, we let the old houses flood the streets and fields of the realm with the blood of the fools so as to restore order. Their debts to us ensure our continued rule in the manner which we desire. Is this not wisdom?”

As one, the lords said “It is the sublime truth of the universe. The Masters rule, the Servants obey- and none serve best but those unseeing of chains.”

Dawn of the Dragonsworn-Part 13

The desperate bid for time went on. The Dragon order hordes of lizardmen sent in wave after wave, all ad hoc and with increasing incoherence as the escape portal still had not finished stabilizing. Prototype behemoths, drug-crazed suicide troops, heavy weaponry--what was left--and more got thrown at Homsar, Zuzu and the Dark Spear marines. None of it worked.

Meanwhile, the Dragonsworn--boxed in now with their master--found that the Patrol ship in orbit had achieved supremacy when the last of their assets got blasted to pieces by its potent primary projectors. With a silent nod, the Dragonsworm donned their battle attire and arrayed themselves before their master. Moments later, Homsar arrived with Zuzu and the Dark Spears right behind him.

No words, no gestures, nothing signaled engagement. Both sides just started shooting, and both sides saw their initial barrage fail to pierce the other's defense screens; in a mad minute of massive fire, both sides dumped all of their firepower upon their foes in an attempt to focus and overload the screens of those foes. This too failed, and thus it again collapsed into a murderous melee. No thought of surrender entered either sides' minds; both committed completely to the butchering of their enemies, but now--at last--parity of power prevailed.

Axes rose and fell. Shields shuddered and splintered. Screens scintillated and shorted. The Dragonsworn women unleashed, by means barely understood by those same women, elemental assaults of fire, ice and raw solar power as if they were sorceresses from some old dime novel. Time attenuated, with seconds seeming like minutes and minutes like hours, but this last ditch defense held its cohesion even as it lost ground.

As the bombardment from orbit began to reverberate around the chamber wherein the two sides sought to slay one another, The Dragon suddenly reared himself up on his hand legs and turned about to face Homsar and the Marines. Behind his foes, and beyond the legs of the beast, Homsar spotted the open portal- one expanding in size to allow The Dragon to escape.

"Not this time, Agent of Civilization!"

Homsar smiled. He'd seen this scenario play out so many times since his youth, so he played a hunch and telepathically activated his boat as well as his ship in orbit to come to his location. Just then, both blasted through the stone walls and rained fire upon The Dragon. Personal screens, though very impressive, cannot repel firepower of that magnitude and in a single volley one of the few remaining Algolian war criminals vaporized where he stood. The violent power behind those blasts washed over the others and if not for their own screens they too would've been flash-fried into ashes- but most of it got spent slaying their master. Homsar and his allies hunkered down, avoiding the worst and letting their own screens take the rest, leaving them unharmed and with their wits about them.

All of the Dragonsworn soon found themselves on the floor, disarmed--literally so in the case of Brilliant Shield and the Blessed Lord--and with an axe blade at the throat.

"I am Homsar Delgana, Agent-At-Large for the Galactic Republic. I arrest you all on charges of desertion, treason and piracy. You shall stand trial on Terra for your crimes, after which I expect that you shall all be swiftly sent to the lethal chambers."

As he said that, Homsar invaded their minds without pretense of any sort and ransacked their memories for any useful intelligence. In so doing, he discovered others--like them, and their minions--already out in the galaxy elsewhere establishing more bases and launching more operations against the Republic.

"Admiral." Homsar said, telepathically, "This group's done, and The Dragon is dead, but this Dragonsworn cult is far from wiped out. We've got a bigger problem on our hands. I'll brief you as soon as the marines and I get these prisoners to the brig."

"Understood, Homsar. Happy now?"

"As a clam, Admiral. As a clam. Finishing unfinished business always makes me happy."

The End

Dawn of the Dragonsworn-Part 12

Homsar, Zuzu and the Dark Spear marines fought their way through another line of defense, leaving scores of slain Dragonsworn thralls in their wake. The stench of death choked the halls of the Dragonsworn fortress, and yet more thralls could be heard ahead readying yet another futile defensive line. Contact began with exchanges of fire from semi-portable beam projectors and then smaller hand-held blasters before the marines advanced into range to charge the line and hack the defense apart with their keen-edge space axes. Not one of the marines--nevermind Homsar or Zuzu--feared their foes, for the beams arrayed against them were too weak to bring down the personal screens on their armored suits and none of the thralls posed any threat to them in close combat.

Yet they came, in their dozens and scores, and in their dozens and scores those scaled soldiers soon slumped- slain by firey beams of death and destruction or butchered by hard-hitting axes wielded by hard-fighting combat veterans. No, far from being concerned the marines and their leaders began laughing at them, holding them in contempt. For them, this was easy work.

"Nothing at all like dislodging them from MacDougal's Rock!" Zuzu said, cackling, "Oh no, this is more like following-up a break in their morale."

Yet Homsar remained mindful, knowing his enemy. "They're weak, but the Dragon isn't out of tricks yet."

Just then, a series of pain-induced shrieks echoed through the halls over the din of the slaughter and the remaining thralls broke and fled. The marines, without thought, cut them all down before realizing that they just killed unarmed and defeated enemies.

"Shake it off, men." Zuzu said, "Something worthy approaches."

As the marines reformed their lines, they saw a handful of giant lizard-like humanoids who barely fit into the halls approach them. Zuzu motioned for fire to commence, and it did, to little effect other than to annoy them.

Homsar turned to Zuzu, and with a meaningful look then nodded. Then Zuzu pointed to the ceiling, and half the beamers dropped the roof on these mishapen beasts while the other half blasted new corridors around them to circumvent the problem.

"He's not changed." Homsar said, "Still thinking like he's in a story, and that I'm obliged to fight on his terms."

Zuzu looked on at the collapsed tunnel. As the men moved into the detour, one of the beasts managed to get its head out of the rubble. Zuzu prompted hacked it off. Homsar executed a second as it emerged, and together the two quickly dispatched them all before catching up.

"Well, that's another 'Throw the big guys at them!' trick thwarted." Zuzu said, "These idiots never learn."

Dawn of the Dragonsworn-Part 11

Homsar knew that the Dragonsworn would erect lines of defense, and that they would focus upon withering firepower provided by semi-portable projectors backed by infantry forming a shield wall. He also knew that there would be an officer, at this point one of the few human-like leaders, in command and that if he could break or kill this man then the entire line would rout. He'd seen it, and done it, so many times that he no longer considered it possible that anything else would happen- and he would be right.

Brilliant Shield stood ready at the first line, a company of lizardmen at his command with semi-portable projectors backed behind a shield wall, with his own considerable abilities reinforcing them for he stood at the center of the wall. He heard Homsar coming, armored boots pounding the cavern floors with the rapid cadence of a thunder lizard on the charge, and as soon as Brilliant Shield caught sight of the abhorred foe he order the gunners to open fire. The handful of projectors lit up the cavern as their beams of death-dealing power fired forward in jets like torrents of rushing water, but to their horror they saw Homsar's armored form advanced unabated- his personal defense screens held, despite the violent display of discharge, and his pace slacked not, but rather increased!

Homsar ran at a sustainable pace, but as soon as they opened fire he broke into a run and charged the line. He knew the screens would hold long enough to make contact, and once in melee those guns were worse than useless to them. The screens held, and then he smashed into--and through--the shield wall. He broke through not where Brilliant Shield stood, but (as one would expect of a veteran) at its weakest point: where the shield wall met the cavern wall. With a ferocity of violence, Homsar cut that lizardman open from breast to crotch and then kicked the cooling corpse away to free his space axe. Now in the moment, Homsar broke the Dragonsworn formation before they could react. If not for Brilliant Shield swiftly engaging Homsar, all of them would have died under that keen-edged axe head within a minute.

Armed with a sword and shield, armored in quality approaching his foe's own, Brilliant Shield tried to wear down the Patrol Agent and disable the man's screens, but his youth betrayed him and found every attempt to feint or disrupt the veteran warrior avoided or blocked. Instead, he soon found himself undone; falling for a false opening to disarm Homsar, Brilliant Shield let slip a hole that Homsar exploited. Seizing Shield by the throat with his off hand, Homsar rapped Shield with the flat of his axe upside his head; by reflex, he looked at Homsar and found his eyes locked with his foes. Homsar's driving will bore through Brilliant Shield's thought screens and seared his mind, which inflicted great agony upon the man. Homsar kicked the disabled man away with contempt, and finished routing the lizardmen. Those not slain fled, with their leader soon with them, and the projectors either destroyed or taken over.

Meanwhile, General Zuzu and the Dark Spear marines--riding Homsar's boat--fought their way into the Dragonsworn fortress. Resistance, while furious, was futile; those that were not blasted died by axe blows. With the boat resting just inside the massive doorway, the marines dropped down and followed Homsar's beacon until they caught up with their man- the trail of carnage made it easy. They met up just as Homsar finished with the projectors.

"Homsar!" Zuzu said, saluting, "Good to see you, man!"

Homsar returned the salute. "You didn't miss much. This is just the first line, and I say that they have two or three more before we reach The Dragon."

Homsar pointed to the remaining projectors, and Zuzu detailed their assignments with a nod, wordlessly issuing orders.

"These Algolian remnants and recasts are barely experienced and not well trained." Homsar said, "You've seen their quality. If we kill or cripple their leaders, and drive off or kill their master, then they'll surrender."

Zuzu nodded. "These scaled scum suck. No wonder this is so easy. We must've come upon them well before they were ready."

"I'd say so." Homsar said as the marines finished appropriating the projectors, "Let's finish the job."

Zuzu grinned that wicked grin that made him such a famous friend.

"What do we bring, men?"

"WE BRING THE PAIN TO THEM!"

"Move out!" Homsar said, and as a single unit Homsar, Zuzu and the Dark Spears attacked the remaining Dragonsworn lines one-by-one. They blasted their way through with ease, each taking moments to rout; veteran marines against mostly untried and shaken recruits is not a fair fight, no matter how indoctrinated the latter may be, with predictable results. The leaders--Brilliant Shield and the Blessed Lord--managed to fall back as they'd planned, but their men often did not survive.

"Master!" the Blessed Lord said, telepathically, "We are routed. The Agent has marines supporting him now. Are we ready."

"NO!" The Dragon said, panicked, "Deploy the prototypes. All of them."

Dawn of the Dragonsworn-Part 10

The Dragon called his students to his presence. Bloodied, bruised and shaken did they arrive: Brilliant Shield, the Blessed Lord, the Lady of Holy Fire and two others newly returned from other errands- the Mistress of Esoteric Lore and the Princess of the Golden Hand. All five of them knelt in obedience to their mentor and master.

"He comes." the Dragon said, his voice booming, "He comes here, knowing now the heart of our power and seeking to obliterate it. As I speak, our remaining militia array in lines again him and deploy our armory upon him."

"Master," Brilliant Shield said, "this Agent is incredible. Neither I, nor any of my siblings, have ever seen any Agent so potent before. What manner of man is this one that so easily sees through our plans and counters our every move?"

"Attend, my son." the Dragon said, "Attend, and learn."

The Dragon reached out with his mind and linked himself with his students, a task long ago made familiar and easy for all of them, and through this link the Dragon did show Homsar Delgana as he once was.

At a speed which makes speech seem as slow as a snail, the Dragon revealed unto them the young Homsar, barely a man, leading an assault upon the Algolian occupation's War Thrall center on Earth. Yet, owing greatly to the Dragon's superior potency of mind, the five students--once Patrol spacers, but none ever being on Earth--did not recognize either their master or the connection between the War Thralls and their own Dragonsworn. By precise and deft use of sympathy to manipulate his students by way of emotional influence, the Dragon induced them to selectively edit what they saw in manners that the Dragon knew would occur; he used his telepathic powers to reinforce their conditioning, which in turn twisted their perceptions without him having to it himself.

They saw Homsar butcher scores of scaled thralls, soldiers and officers alike, and then assaulted their master--albeit in a more man-like form, and not in the current massive dragon-like form--and severely wounded him before escaping with his life. All they saw was fact, but because of their cult-like devotion the Dragonsworn elite could not--would not--admit the truth of what they saw, and the Dragon knew it.

"Master," the Lady said, "if this was Homsar as a youth, then the one we see now is nigh unto a god of death here to exterminate our kind! I suggest that we reform our strategy, especially since our space defenses are spent."

"Indeed, Master." the Blessed Lord said, following his wife, "If he is about to smite you, then this battle is already lost. Pride is useless to the dead, Master, so let us retreat and seek revenge another time against the Patrol."

Blessed Shield and the latter ladies nodded their concurrence with this opinion, and after a long, lizardlike sigh so did the Dragon.

"Blessed Shield, you shall take up the defense. Hold the Agent as long as you can; worry not about the men, yet preserve yourself for the next line. You women, come with me to erect and energize the gate. The Lord shall organized the second line and cover the Shield's retreat, who in turn shall organize the third line and cover the Lord's retreat. By the fourth line, if all holds as needed, the gate shall be ready and then the ladies shall assist the men in covering the retreat."

"As you command." the five said, united, and they split for their appointed tasks.

Meanwhile, in space the Kinneson approached the planet and moved into orbit. From orbit, the dreadnought bombarded the surface, taking out the planetary defenses as they fired upon the Patrol vessel; the Dragonsworn beams did little to strain the screens of their hated foe's ship.

Concurrently, the Dark Spears readied for their next operation: an orbital drop. After the gunners fired another volley from the primary beams, Admiral Smith gave the order to fire the drop-pods, which screamed planet-side in a show of firey fury. Secondary beams fired from the ship covered the drop, keeping the Dragonsworn gunners--those left--down long enough for the marines to make planetfall. By that time, the ship had found Homsar's own speed-optimized ship and taking it alongside; the admiral detailed his top computer to check the vessel, found it safe and then quickly upgraded the key element--the beacon transceiver--with one of the spares aboard the Kinneson.

Each pod's doors blew off as the explosive bolts fired, and out emerged the fearsome Patrol marines that swiftly overran the one Dragonsworn cruiser in space earlier that day. Fixed on the signal beacon aboard Homsar's boat, they quickly bounced over and saw it held fast into the ground. A sweep from a semi-portable beam cleared away the shaped earth, freeing the boat.

"Admiral," General Zuzu said, "we cleared the boat."

"General," Admiral Smith said, "we've cleared the ship."

Admiral Smith reached out and made contact telepathically with Homsar, briefing him, and Homsar smiled. "Put Zuzu on the beam." he said, and Smith did.

"I'm going to activate the homers. Just follow them and you'll get to me as if blasting through inter-galactic space, and that means that you'll get here in time for the party."

Smith and Zuzu smiled. Each saw their respective vessel lift off; the Kinneson matched velocities and vectors to the ship while the marines bounced up on the hull as the boat took off.

Satisfied now, Homsar turned to move for the assault when he saw a boy--barely a man--come up on him with a blaster. Without thought, Homsar slapped the blaster out of the boy's hands, grabbed him with his free hand and locked eyes on the youth. Into the boy's mind he went, still acting on reflex, and found that this was the proof he needed of the Dragonsworn's sedition and treason.

"Admiral!" Homsar said, telepathically, "Get on the beam; I have proof of treason."

Smith did, and together they easily ransacked the boy's memories of his parents--the ones now called The Blessed Lord and the Lady of Holy Fire--and how these two leaders of the Dragonsworn came to become the students, the apprentices, of the Algolian war criminal now calling himself The Dragon. If was the Dragon that played to the boy's parents' fears, resentments and character flaws- ultimately leading to abandoning their Humanity, turning traitor over nursed grudges, and in recent years an increasingly willful neglect of him--their son--in favor of their master.

"Alive, Homsar, we need them and the others alive. The Dragon, on the other hand, he's all yours."

Homsar nodded reflexively, perplexing the boy.

"Agreed." Homsar said, "Pick up the kid. I'm putting him out now."

With a well-placed mental blow, Homsar knocked the boy unconscious. He tagged the boy with a transponder and stuffed him into an ill-lit and out-of-the-way corner; he knew that the marines would find that boy, get him out of there and get him aboard where he'd be out of action and danger.

Now both satisfied and secure that no loose ends existed, Homsar turned towards the approach to the Dragon's lair and grinned a smug grin. Again, he lived for moments like this, and enjoyed them fully.

"Hurry up Zuzu!" he said, "Or you'll miss it all!"

Dawn of the Dragonsworn-Part 9

The Dragonsworn cruisers assumed a cone-shaped formation, meant envelop the Patrol dreadnought, moving as if controlled by a single mind. As the Dragonsworn ships came into range, the Kinneson opened fire with all of her primary batteries. The volley of fire focused its payload upon the focal ship at the point of the cone, vaporizing it out of existence in a single shot.

Despite the show of horrific force, the Dragonsworn cruisers pressed their attack and moved englobe their foe. Aboard theKinneson Admiral Smith laughed.

"Clear the space before and behind. Let those around us suck on our jets as we punch through."

The Dragonsworn vessels returned fire, throwing beams force and power comparable to the Patrol's compliment, but did not reckon on the strength of its screens. Those a brilliant and colorful display, they held fast and not much worse for wear; this was not so for the Dragonsworn, who found themselves confounded by tractors grappling a target into place before gunners manning primaries and secondaries focused upon and blew out the held target. Dragonsworn gunners hurried to identify and use needle-like precision fire to knock out the Patrol gunners, or the tractor beams, but it was too little and too often also too late. Despite superior numbers, the lost of the focal ship destroyed their ability to coordinate action ship-to-ship.

Then came the coup-de-grace, the thought-bomb that Homsar implanted into one sailor's skull, and in a fit psychosis he surged at his ship's pilot and steered his vessel into a ram attack- an attack easily and handily turned into a seized ship and a boarding action. By the time the crew put down the madman, the Dark Spear marines had already latched a boarding tube and burned into the ship to assault it.

General Zuzu lead the attack, bursting through with the two space axes in hand. In a moment they came upon the hastily-erected chokepoint with semi-portable blasters in place. Without breaking stride Zuzu charged the guns, knowing full well that the screens installed in Patrol marine armor can hold against such weapons long enough to make contact, and the marines of the Dark Spears followed right behind.

"WE BRING THE PAIN TO YOU!" they cried, as one, at the top of their lungs just as Zuzu breached the Dragonsworn line and buried one axe in each of the two hapless lizardmen sailors doomed by their captain to man them. Zuzu cleaved through those two skulls, spraying black blood and reptilian brain meat across the bulkheads, and then cut a third in half before that fool could level his blaster at the general. Through the breach poured Zuzu's fellow marines, each wielding another such space axe and cutting down their foes with ruthless abandon.

One sailor, in the back, fled for his life upon hearing the war cry of the Dark Spears and the utter slaughter of his crewmates. He fled, screaming all the way to the bridge, whereupon the captain--viewing the action through a remote camera--turned and blasted the man's head clean off. As the now-headless crewman's corpse slumped to the deck, its neck smoking, the captain picked up a comlink.

"This is the captain. You are on Death Ground, men. If you want to live, kill them all. Those that flee shall be shot."

The men around him immediately drew their weapons, fired upon him from all sides and killed him several times over. When General Zuzu arrived, he found the bridge crew quite ready and eager to surrender, which was fortunate as they were the only crewmen still alive- and the only enemy personnel.

Meanwhile, Admrial Smith's expert and veteran spacers destroyed each ship in turn by applying the same fix-focus-fire technique that worked so well early on. Within a half-hour, the fight was over; only the one boarded vessel remained, and the bridge crew that surrendered soon found themselves under interrogation by Smith directly- the sole Agent immediately at hand.

On the surface, Homsar enjoyed similar success. Leading the militia on a wild chase, and despite the fact that he was in Patrol armor, he ran throughout the Dragonsworn complex at will. He's ambush a group, wipe them out and then fade before reinforcements arrived. This seeming incompetence greatly displeased both the Dragonsworn leaders and their mentor/master, the latter of whom lost control and began ranting without stop in a stream of invectives and obscenities that proved to be telling to Homsar- because part of this lost control included the ability to not broadcast one's thoughts to all what could receive them.

It was a specific turn of phrase--"recycled monkies"--that sparked an unpleasant memory, of the Algolian Occupation during the last war, the event that put Homsar on the path to becoming who and what he is now. Just before the Terran Navy returned to liberate Earth, Homsar partook of a raid against an Algolian prison camp said to be where most of the disappeared people went. It turned out to be an experimental facility, the place where new Algolian Jannisaries came from- it was here that he (and everyone else) discovered that the Algolians turned their enemies into their slaves through genetic and eugenic manipulation- they literally recycled people into the war-thralls of the Algolian Empire.

It was also the first time that Homsar buried an axe into an unarmed man's skull, for that man was one of the scientists responsible for turning his family into such war-thralls- family he had to put down himself. That villain's master escaped, and now he returns like this? Having lied to the survivors of the Sixth Hospital and conned them into becoming these lizardmen thralls?

"Admiral!" Homsar said, "The leader of the Dragonsworn of is the head of the War Thrall facility during the Occuption."

"Gabriel?" Smith said, "Here?"

"Yes. I'm going to split his skull and burn his corpse to ash."

"We've got space cleared out and will be there shortly. What about the others?"

"Same as it ever was."

"Understood. Captured part of a crew, and interrogation confirmed what you reported. We've got space cleared and will be planetside shortly."

"Hurry, Admiral, or you'll have nothing to do but clean up the mess."