Collin checked the Captains readouts mounted on the post beside him. They were full up. Time to head back into orbit. He touched a control, and the readouts switched to tactical. He noticed several unidentifiable markings on the long-range scanner. The computer thought that they were solar anomalies. Collin knew better. “Take us up. Carnage’s new fighters are on the way.”

“Sir, how do you know?” Asked Tyrone, the Plasma’s tactical officer and a good friend of Collin’s. They’d both been in AVALANCHE since it’s formation.

“Trust me. Hail Nova and Sol, and tell them to be on full alert. There are incoming at,” He checked his screen. “Three fifty degrees, sector two, long-range. They read as solar. How did Carnage harness Solar?” Collin asked himself the question, but put it out of his mind for a moment.

“Tactical, can we send fighters?”

“…Affirmative, sir. Shall I scramble them?”

“You shouldn’t even have to ask,” Collin replied, smiling at Tyrone. They too had lost friends and family to the Zorans. And they were always willing to make the Zorans pay for it.

Tyrone barked orders into his communicator, “Scramble all fighters, to assist the Sol and Nova. Scramble all fighters. All personnel to battle stations. It could get a bit bumpy.”

All over the Plasma, people ran to their posts. Among the fighter pilots was Silon Gall, one of the best pilots, scientists, and warriors that AVALANCHE had. He jumped into his small, one-man fighter ship, armed with six guns in a circular formation around the outside, ringing the fuselage in firepower. The cockpit went all the way around the ship, allowing the pilot to see from different angles. And it let the Rogues execute their favorite maneuver, the Vulcan. Silon fired is burners and was hurtled from the Plasma’s docking bay. This was gonna be fun.

“This isn’t good, sir. Plasma just sent a warning. We’ve got incoming solar craft from three fifty, sector two.”

“Alright, then. This is the captain,” Culls said over the intercom, reaching everyone on the ship. “Charge main weapons, full shields to the front, and put us on a reverse course to the defense position. Scramble our fighters, all crew to battle stations, and protect the Sol at ALL COSTS!”

The fighters once again scrambled, and Zeala was no exception. She hopped into her Rogue fighter, a large two-man with four guns, arranged cross-style. The fuselage was not long and tapered like on Silon, her husband’s ship. It was big and bulky, with strong torpedoes and engines that could toast any enemy on the fighter’s tail. She liked this one.

Zeala, like Silon, was a warrior-pilot-scientist. The Zorans had annihilated her entire hometown when they landed with their engines, and Zeala had been one of few to escape. Silon was with her then, and they married shortly after. Now she was joining him not in love, but in war. A war she intended to walk away from.

“Fire at will, Tyrone. Make ‘em count, we haven’t got many.” Collin said, punching up the firing display. Tyrone would command the guns on the right side of the ship, Collin, the left. The rest of the bridge crew was to handle anything and everything that arose. Collin scrolled through screen after screen, until he found the ones he wanted. The screen glowed, showing him what he could fire and at which enemy. They were coming in from all of sector two now, a huge fleet of new fighters. They seemed to have hulls of energy, or at least blanketed in it. Solar energy. The most powerful stuff the Cetra knew. This wouldn’t be easy. The Zoran ships came over the final ridge dividing them from the Cetra forces just as the Sol got down to pick-up altitude. The ships were long and tapered, like the Cetra ships. That made sense; the Cetra had stolen and upgraded Zoran fighters. But these ships had huge, blade-like wings, curved and deadly. And they seemed to have energy wells in the curve. Collin watched as the first Zoran fired, and the energy wells lit up, sending solar energy straight through a Cetra fighter that had been on scout. The Zorans weren’t in range of all the fighters yet. But a shot like that took an hour to set up and all available power to the guns to fire for the Cetra. These fighters could do it easily.

“We’re gon…eed something…erent…” Came one of the fighters. It was Silon. Collin responded personally.

“Silon, this is Collin.”

“Hey, Collin. Sorry…can’t really…alk with you…moment.”

“Understood. Tell the Rogues and the Spectrals to switch to plasma grenades for now. I’ll be sending out fighters with hydrogen retardant soon. That should get rid of the energy shield.”

“Copy that, Plas… This is…gue One out.” Silon switched to his plasma grenades, but he knew that that wasn’t going to cut it. The plasma grenades used an energy discharge. They were big, and the Cetra fighters weren’t outfitted with that kind of shielding. That was why they’d been installed, in hopes that the Zorans wouldn’t have that shielding either. He just hoped the grenades did more harm to them than to his fighters.

“All fighters, this is Rogue one. Switch to manual plasma grenade. Try to aim behind the target. If these don’t destroy them, maybe it’ll knock out their engines. Try not to fire too close to any of our fighters or yourself. These things make a pretty big hole in space, remember.” Silon flipped his com switch and activated his plasma grenades. They did rip a pretty nice hole in air. That was one of the big problems. He hoped they would be visually noticeable, or he might be flying straight through a blank bubble.

There they were. The Solar ships had just made it within range of the Cetra, and were already firing madly. A sun shot whipped past Silon’s ship, and he knew that this might be harder than he’d thought.

“This…Rogue One…itch to plasma…nades.” That was all that Zeala caught from the transmission before she cut it. That was all she needed to know. She reached up in the cockpit of her Vulcan, as it was commonly called, and switched to plasma grenades. She was afraid, though. The plasma grenades blew up pretty big, and she didn’t want to take out any other ships. She figured she’d shoot behind them, knock out the engines. Which was what she’d been taught for close combat situations, when they first installed the grenades. The first fighters reached range, and Zeala moved the throttle to full. These things were fast, she noticed. ZOOM! WHISH! The fighters whipped by. She charged through the whole group, firing simple metal projectiles. Zeala watched as the first fighters deviated off her course, as she played chicken with the whole bunch. A great tactic for breaking up a crowd. She went out behind them as the big warship arrived, not nearly as fast. It would be best to take them out first. The grenades might actually prove useful.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” A voice came over Zeala’s intercom. She looked, not even needing to, to her right, as Rogue One accelerated past her. His voice was much clearer at a close proximity.

“Yes. I’ll take the guns, you take the bridge. Where’s-”

“I’m here.” Demonique, her fellow warrior and number three to her two in the Rogues, cut Zeala off in mid-sentence. The three always ran this tactic together.

“Okay, get the shields. We’ll cover.” Silon said to Demonique as she pulled her ship up left of Zeala.

“I know. How many times must we run this with you two telling me the plan?”

“Just shoot. Ask questions when were in jump space.” Zeala said. She always sided with her husband when Demonique was around. The fighters approached the warship, one sent to fly with any and all fighters. Basically, it was defense and tactical support. It had the strongest weapons of the Zoran fleet, and the three warriors had been trained specifically to take this kind of ship out, together.

The three fighter ships spun off onto different courses. Silon headed straight up the front of the long warship. They were designed like a floating pyramid, but stretched horizontally with thick wings on the sides and no tip. They were very ugly, but very efficient and strong. Silon maneuvered to his position and went to hover, straight in front of the warship’s huge bridge. He could see the Zorans scrambling inside. Soon they wouldn’t be scrambling at all.

Zeala dove, to the left wing, and fired three grenades. Then she was up, moving to the next wing before the grenades even impacted with the main gun installations. She fired three more at the right wing, and headed back to the front of the ship. Six guns were placed along the hull, but they were shielded back-up guns for just an occasion as this.

Demonique dove also, but much lower than Zeala, her lifelong best friend. She went under the warship, to the suspension engines. She would have trouble here. The shield generator was just past the suspension engines. She couldn’t go around because the back-up guns would fry her. She couldn’t go underneath because she’d crash: they were too close to the ground as it was. And going through was difficult. The engines were super powerful, and if she didn’t go fast enough or straight enough, her ship would melt out from under her. Even if she did it right, there was the chance that her ship would be too damaged to continue fighting. Demonique flipped a switch which kept the engines from firing. She adjusted the throttle to her mark so that she wouldn’t go too fast: going too fast would make her lost control and destroy her for certain. She then adjusted the helm control to the right pitch, watching the green glowing screen, until she was aligned. She loved this part. She didn’t feel pressured; she was the best pilot on the Rogues, had volunteered for this attack pattern. She carefully fixed the altitude to her specifications, and inhaled deeply. She brushed her brunette hair out of her face and back into her helmet, and flipped the switch. Instantly the Vulcan rocketed forward, slamming through the super heated air and coming out the other side. Another perfect roast. She’d done it again. Quickly, Demonique adjusted her throttle to hover and began to bombard the generator with energy blasts. Her ship spun in the Rogues’ favorite maneuver and the generator exploded. Demonique continued to hover and waited.

Silon saw the air flicker and the shield was down. He saw the scurrying Zorans as they tried to escape the doomed ship, one that had been so powerful when it had first arrived. He fired his first grenade, watching them hit the front port of pure Cryse. It shattered easily with the explosion ripped through it. He saw several Zorans sucked from the now depressurized ship, and fired another grenade. It went through the hole and bounced lightly on the floor. It was the size of a man’s head, and it came to a stop near the captain’s chair. For a fleeting second, Silon felt guilty. He then thought of what the Zorans did to him, vanquishing his guilt as the new grenade exploded and vaporized the bridge crew. The instruments destroyed, the giant ship fluttered weakly to the borr. It exploded on impact, flames shooting up into the sky as Silon, Zeala, and Demonique turned their ships and flew in formation yet again. They now had to join the other battle.

“Yes! Sir, the Rogue Destroyers have taken out the warship. It’s crashing into the borr even as we speak!” Tyrone shouted, the words shooting out of his mouth like so many grenades outside the ship.

“Excellent. Are the hydrogen fighters ready?” Collin asked.

“Yes sir. And they’ve been equipped with standard weapons. I’ll scramble them.” The hydrogen ships were actually search-and-rescue, recon ships. The plan was to push the hydrogen out of the air around the Zoran fighters, since solar energy burned on hydrogen more than any other element. Collin hoped it would knock out the shields easily, which had already proved that they could stop sun shots. He watched as the fighters burst from the ship and flew into the battle. They would be able to aid the regular Cetra fighters, as well. They’d been well designed.

“Tactical, are this ships weapons ready?” Collin asked.

“Ready and waiting, sir. But they won’t do much good against those fighters,”

“Not yet. If they hydro ships work, I want to be ready to take those fighters out.” Collin said, watching the port. They had to work.

“The hydro ships are ready!” Cried Silon as the three Rogues engaged the Zoran fighters. Silon swung his ship behind one, aimed in front of it, and fired a grenade. The thing hurtled through the atmosphere and exploded directly behind the Zoran fighter. Silon veered away, avoiding the blast, as the ship was thrown into a spinning frenzy. It fell to the ground, exploding on impact. By the Planet, that felt good, he thought. All around him, Cetra and Zoran ships exploded, raining shrapnel down on his ship. He accelerated as a plasma shot whipped past him. He pulled up hard, and Silon executed a loop easily. He came behind the fighter and switched to metals. The grenade launchers mounted on the sides of his ship withdrew inward, and the metals locked in place on his main guns. Silon threw his ship into a Vulcan maneuver, spinning like a gattling gun as metals ripped through the hull of the other ship. But most weren’t making it through the super heated shielding. He came out of the spin as a hydro ship came up along side the Zoran fighter. It let go a cloud of blue gas in front of the fighter, and the flames seemed to buckle before dying out completely. The ship veered off, allowing Silon to take it, and he waved his thanks.

Silon his the Vulcan spin again, this time the metals hitting the ship. He aimed for the cockpit, and the ship exploded in mid air. Silon was going so fast that he went straight through the flaming cloud. He came out, amazed that his ship was undamaged. He smiled, and yelled into his intercom. The natives were getting a bit unfriendly.

“Get all of our ships back here. Send the Rogues to the Plasma, because they can handle space. We’ll take the hydro fighters. Charge the secondary weapons array, were running escort duty for those cruisers.”

The Plasma and the Sol pulled out of the upper atmosphere as the first cruiser flew through the space rift created by the jump ring. It would be heading to Tyania, the chosen planet of the Cetra to start anew. But the jump process was a slow one, as the ring took time to recharge after each jump.

“This is the Nova. Plasma, we’re sending the Rogues to you, since they can handle space travel. We’ll take the hydro fighters in our bay for the jump, you take the Rogues.” It was Culls.

“Agreed, Nova. I can see the Rogues now. We’ll welcome them.” Collin replied, taking the message.

“Thank you. Nova will run escort.” Culls replied.

“Just make sure you make it through, Culls. I’m not leaving you.” Collin told him.

The Plasma pulled in line behind the Sol as the Nova came up behind. All the gun mounts on the ship simultaneously swung around, facing the opposite direction on the ship. They all charged, blaster coils glowing with contained energy. The Zoran ships soon began to break atmosphere, and the Nova fired as they came into range. Culls himself took the gun controls, each one firing on a different target as the huge cruisers continued to make the jump and fighters continued to dock. The Zoran ships exploded away, but it did little good. The ship s kept coming and they weren’t stopping. The Nova continued to fire, again and again.

Culls saw the shot coming and swung the ship out of the way. The plasma shot flamed past, impacting a close asteroid. He fired again and the offending ship was knocked down. Its wing was blown clean off, but the ship didn’t stop flying toward the Nova. It seemed to be heading straight for the bridge. Culls smashed the engine control and the Nova lurched forward. The spinning, out of control fighter missed the bridge, slamming into the engines and causing a huge explosion in the back half of the ship.

All of a sudden, the Nova stopped moving, and the lights on the bridge went out. It was nearly a minute before they were reactivated. Culls glanced around, looking for the cause.

“What’s going on?”

“Sir, a Zoran ship impacted the main engines. We’re dead in the water, sir.”

“Damn! What can we do about it?”

“We can launch the escape pods, but they can’t make the jump, and the Plasma will be gone in about a minute. And they’ll probably be destroyed before they ever make it to the other ship.” Replied Culls’ second in command. He stepped over to the captain, and bent to whisper in his ear.

“No, Gavin. Everyone needs to hear what you have to say.”

“I don’t think I need to say anything sir. Our duty is to the cruisers. We MUST defend them.”

“Agreed.” Culls replied. He gripped the locket he wore on his neck tightly. So tightly, with so much feeling, that drops of blood slid from his palm to the metallic floor below. “I’m coming soon, girls.” He said lowly, so no one but he heard. Culls opened the locket, revealing the picture of his beautiful wife and daughter. “I’ll be there soon.”

“What’s going on?” Why has the Nova stopped coming?” Collin demanded from the bridge of the Plasma as the crew strapped in, preparing for the jump.

“Sir, we’ve lost contact. A fighter exploded against their engine. They can’t make the jump.” Tyrone replied. He looked grim, as Culls had been his first captain and good friend.

“No! We must go back. How’s our tractor equipment?”

“Sir, we lost the tractor array in the battle. We can’t help them.” Replied Zachary, the operations expert.

“No. I won’t leave them here!” Collin was getting more and more emotional. Tyrone could feel the psychic vibrations he emitted. But Tyrone had already excepted what was to happen. He knew Culls too well. He wouldn’t let the Zorans get to the ship. And he wouldn’t be made a slave again. That didn’t leave many options.

“We’re picking up a slight signal from the Nova.” Said the Communications officer.

“This is the Nova. Plasma, make your jump. We are going to initiate the self-destruct sequence, and, consequently, destroy the Zoran force and the ring itself. You must be through before we do that. You have five minutes. Nova out.” Culls let go of the button, and the transmission was ended. He then pressed a different button. Culls’ voice was heard all over the ship.

“This is the captain. We have experienced a crippling blow to our main engines. We can’t make the jump. Our only alternative is to activate the self-destruct sequence. I’m sorry that things couldn’t be different, but we need to protect the cruisers. Because of our sacrifice, our race will live on. And rest assured, we are taking a HELL OF A LOT of Zorans with us!” The crew cheered at the thought of destroying the Zorans. Then there was an eerie silence. The crew had accepted what was going to happen. They knew what had to happen.

“Activate self-destruct sequence, authorization Culls Alpha Borr Cetra.”

“Activate self-destruct sequence, authorization Gavin Beta Truce Planet.”

“Activate self-destruct sequence, five minute timer, silent countdown.” Muttered Culls. He then activated the weapons array as the Zoran ships whizzed past the Nova. They’d finally realized that the ship was crippled and that they could attack the vulnerable Cetra cruiser, Plasma. It still had thirty seconds until the jump. Culls trained the guns and fired a burst, each of the fleeing ships destroyed. Culls had been the leader of the Rogues at the battle of Borr one hundred years ago; he knew how to shoot.

The rest of the ships hung back. They probably planned to take the Nova when it burned itself out, then follow the escaped Cetra. Culls hoped to the Planet that they would stay in blast range.

Culls stepped back from the attack controls. The counter on his display read 00:00:29, 28, 27. He flipped open the locket and stared at his family. He would be joining them ever so soon.

“It has been a pleasure serving with you all. You are great Cetra heroes, to be remembered for all time. Good luck.” Culls said into his intercom, again broadcasting it all over the ship. He then left it on, and activated his disc drive. Beautiful music from an age forgotten by most drifted throughout the ship and they prepared. Culls was finally at peace, if only for a moment. The crew settled, surrendering to the music and the peace he sent out with his mind, dreading nothing but that unsaid zero. ᝰ:00:3, 2, 1. Zero.

Go to Chapter III

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