Magnus Talrésian’s heavy boots rang off the walls in the wide corridor. Beside him, his brother-in-law and first officer Alasdair Kincaid and lead pilot Hayk Rikolosian hustled to keep up with his long stride as he led them through Fleet Headquarters on Sahara, the most densely populated world in the Pleiadian star system of Merope. As representatives of the fleet from the axis star Alcyone, the three officers in navy stood out starkly against the light gray uniforms of Meropean personnel crowding the hallways.

Oblivious to the difficulty his companions were experiencing in keeping up with his pace, Magnus brooded as he walked, resentful that his fond memories of summers spent on Sahara with cherished friends were now tainted by the dire circumstances which had brought them to Merope. The damned Drahkian Empire out of Draco was swallowing the Pleiadian cluster one star system at a time. Only three populated systems remained free of the violent reptilians’ control and when a Drahkian warband had launched an invasion into Merope over two and a half Saharan years prior, the starfleets of Alcyone and Maia had come running to support the Meropean defenses.

Unfortunately, the allied Pleiadian forces had been unsuccessful in ousting the vicious beasts and had found themselves struggling to counter superior Drahkian technology. The three smallest of Merope’s eight populated worlds had slipped through their fingers, their planetary portal locks broken and reset by some unknown disruptive means which barred re-entry of the home fleet through the energetic grids in the outer atmosphere. The tiny outworld colonies of Gado and Chaka had been the first to go down, followed soon after by Kimbo, Merope’s innermost inhabited world. It was frustrating as hell for all of them to be forced to tolerate Drahkian presence within Merope and to come to terms with the fact that it was only a matter of time before the reptiles came after the portals of the more heavily populated Meropean worlds.

Magnus took a deep breath and shook out his hands which had unconsciously clenched into fists. Rounding the corner into the wing reserved for business with Fleet Admiral Tungo, he was startled to see a striking, dark-skinned man in flowing mint green robes standing with a number of aides outside the designated conference room watching for their arrival.

“Ulu!” he called out, hurrying forward to throw is arms around the tall Saharan. “I didn’t think I’d get the chance to see you while we were here.”

As leader of Sahara’s high council, Ulu Malawi had more on his plate than anyone else on the planet. Gripping Magnus tightly in an affectionate hug, he laughed and stood back, beaming at the strapping dark-haired officer with a bright smile. “When I saw that you would be representing the Alcyoni fleet for this meeting, I rearranged my schedule to make sure I could to attend. How long has it been, my friend?”

“Far too long, Ulu—before the first attack on Gado,” Magnus replied with a shake of his head.

“I understand congratulations are in order, Captain Talrésian, and the same to each of you gentlemen,” the councilor offered with an approving nod, indicating the two pony-tailed officers waiting patiently a few paces away.

Magnus flinched, still unaccustomed to hearing the new title spoken in front of his name.

“Ah, yes,” Ulu added softly, studying the younger man’s face with concern. “Your promotions came after the destruction of the Ildirim in the last skirmish over Kimbo. I saw the reports. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” Magnus muttered with a glance at Alasdair and Hayk’s tight expressions. “We all lost good friends on the Ildirim.”

“And what happened to Captain Gunnarsen of your ship?”

“Asta was reassigned to the Loki, the new ship that was pulled out of production early back home on Tarsus. The three of us were bumped up a rank on the Zephyr.”

“Then your crew is still in good hands,” Ulu declared warmly as a slender aide in a business suit stepped up behind the councilor’s right shoulder.

“Admiral Tungo will be here momentarily,” the woman interjected quietly, “and the Maian fleet contingent just landed.”

“Eeeexcellent,” the Saharan leader preened with a broad grin, his sparkling eyes riveted on Magnus. “I put in a special request to Admiral Rimstrider for a particular Birdwing captain to be given the rotation for this meeting.”

“Yuri’s coming?” Magnus blurted, his chiseled features brightening with excitement over the second surprise of the day.

“Yes, indeed, and I hope I can steal the two of you away from your duties for a short visit after the meeting. I have something special to show you.”

The Tarsian captain’s face fell, his steel blue eyes narrowing as he thought about the mountain of work still piling up in his office on board the Zephyr.

“Yes, Councilor, he’d be delighted,” Alasdair threw out quickly in his soft Caledoni lilt, stepping up next to Magnus with a firm nudge on the back.

“Please, take him,” Hayk chimed in to his right. “Keep him as long as you want.”

Ulu threw back his head and laughed loudly, drawing the eyes of his entire gaggle of aides. Shifting his gaze to Alasdair and Hayk, he raised an eyebrow and nodded toward Magnus with a knowing grin. “I take it your captain has been, shall we say, more than a little intense with his new role?”

“You could say that,” Hayk answered flatly. “Or you could say overbearing.”

“Hard driving.”

“Sleepless.”

“Demanding.”

“That’s enough, you guys,” Magnus growled through clenched teeth, glaring at his two closest friends. “Excuse me for wanting to keep your sorry hides alive when the beasts come out again.”

Ulu smiled fondly and shook his head. “Ah, Magnus, some things never change.”

The clatter of footfalls on the marble floor drew their attention down the hall to a petite figure at the head of a host of decorated officers. Amara Tungo looked up from her conversation with a severe looking man beside her to nod a greeting to the high councilor and the Alcyoni officers before sweeping into the brightly-lit conference room.

“Gentlemen, shall we?” With a courteous wave of his hand, Ulu ushered the off-world guests through the open door before proceeding with his party toward the end of the long banks of tables where Admiral Tungo had taken her seat at the head. The large room was bustling with representatives of the Meropean fleet as well as political leaders from the heavily populated world of Dashen and the smaller worlds of Masala, Bandu, and Ngama.

As the Tarsian officers turned in the opposite direction to walk down the aisle behind the closest row of chairs, a uniformed Meropean officer fell into step beside Magnus. “Captain Talrésian?”

“Um-hmm,” he acknowledged as the slight man handed him a small padded brown case.

“These are the holo reports for Admiral Silésian and High Councilor van der Meer on Tarsus,” the officer informed him crisply.

“Thank you. I’ll deliver them immediately.” Magnus slipped the case of crystalline points into the inside pocket of his jacket as the man nodded and disappeared into the crowd. Navigating around several groups of robed officials, the captain led his officers around the end of the tables and along the far aisle before halting in front of three empty chairs.

“So how do you know Councilor Malawi?” Hayk asked as he took his seat, glancing down the room to where Ulu stood chatting with Admiral Tungo.

Magnus sat down and tipped his chair back on two legs, running his hands through his long black hair. “His wife Desta is a professor of archeology at the university here in Pemba. When I was in high school, I spent my first summer over here working as an intern on one of her digs. That’s where I met Ulu and Yuri.”

“He likes that stuff,” Alasdair threw in. “You’ve seen all that junk he has in their apartment. Mara’s always complaining that he’s got this collecting disease.”

“It’s not junk, you cretin,” Magnus countered with a swipe at his wife’s twin. “I have some incredible artifacts from all over the Pleiadian cluster, even pieces from Taygeta and Sterope that made it out before the Drahks took over. Yuri gave me this really old vessel he got—” The captain broke off his thoughts and cocked his head to the side as his ears picked up an odd, familiar sound. “Speak of the devil.”

From out in the corridor, the unmistakable clicks and whistles of the Tori bird people from Maia rose above the noise of the crowd as Yuri Stardancer and four other officers paraded into the conference room. The Tori captain’s white crested head and feathers stood out in sharp contrast to his black uniform and the bright neon colorings of his colleagues. His glassy dark eyes, surrounded by a tapered, iridescent blue band, landed immediately on Magnus and he uttered a soft trill of greeting.

Magnus grinned and nodded, lacing his fingers behind his head as he watched his friend easily dominate the room with his charismatic presence.

“I’m glad they’re on our side,” Alasdair murmured while the Maian party stalked down the aisle on the other side of the room and took up seats directly across from them.

“Yeah, they’re wicked fighters,” Hayk remarked under his breath, “and just plain cool.”

At the head of the table at the far end, Ulu raised his hands and waited until everyone was seated and the noise had settled. “Welcome, friends,” he announced, his rich voice rolling down the length of the long room. “I have the honor and privilege of joining your meeting today for the update on our difficult situation. I have only one thing to say. Every soul in Merope is thankful for each of you—,” he stated emphatically with a sweep of his hand around the table, “—our allies from Alcyone and Maia, and our own brave fleet—for risking your lives to defend our worlds.” A wave of clapping rolled through the room as Ulu nodded and turned to the small woman beside him with an outstretched hand. “Admiral Tungo, please.”

The Saharan commander stood and glanced down the long banks of seated dignitaries and officers. “We’ll keep this short since we all have duties to attend to,” she declared briskly. “I’ll start with a brief summation of the last skirmish. Forty-one Saharan days ago a group of six Drahkian warship discs appeared out of thin air a short distance from Kimbo’s planetary portal escorting a group of eight large cargo vessels. The Pleiadian ships on duty outside Kimbo’s transport gate above the portal engaged them immediately. Two of the Drahkian cargo vessels were destroyed and one of the warships was damaged, but we lost the Ildirim from Tarsus before the Drahkian party disappeared through the portal with access codes from the ground.”

The room buzzed with the low hum of troubled voices. “Our deepest sympathies, gentlemen,” the admiral added with a tip of her head toward the Tarsian officers. Magnus crossed his arms and nodded curtly in acknowledgment. It wasn’t the first ship and crew to be incinerated in the conflict with the Empire and he knew with sick certainty that it was far from the last.

The admiral cleared her throat before she went on. “With the addition of those four warships, we put the total count of the invading fleet at thirty-six, each with twice the fire power of any of our ships and the capacity to carry transport vessels for saur beasts, cargo carriers, and dozens of heavy fighters.”

“What’s the count in the combined Pleiadian fleet?” one of the robed officials inquired to the admiral’s left.

“We currently stand at one hundred twenty-six vessels—forty Meropean ships, fifty-four Maian Birdwings, and thirty-two of the larger Alcyone vessels with the addition of the Loki. Our plants on Sahara and Dashen are scrambling to finish five new ships, but they’re still a few weeks away from launch. Captain Stardancer, can you give us an update on Maian ship production?”

“Two on Quetzal and two more on Turaco are almost finished,” Yuri reported in commonly used Mothertongue. “The new crews are trained and waiting impatiently to get into the air to join the fight here in Merope and in the Altairan system.”

“Your fleet is still sending aid to the Altairans?”

“Yes, my wing just got back from Keiko where we kept the Drahks from breaking the primary portal for the third time. All our wings are on alert to transport through the Maian gates wherever we’re needed at a moment’s notice.”

Amara nodded thoughtfully before turning her attention to Magnus. “Captain Talrésian, what’s the status on production in Alcyone?”

“On Tarsus with the launch of the Loki, our plant on Andara has just begun work on a new ship,” he called out clearly. “A second plant up in the northern continent of Caledon has another ship in progress. The facilities out on Niemi and our twin worlds of Chi and Ki each have new vessels nearly ready for launch.”

“Excellent.” The admiral blinked and nodded, her mouth twisting to the side with a calculating expression. While he still had the floor, Magnus threw another question out to the admiral. “Has our crystal master on loan from Ubad been any help with solving the problem of the reset portal locks?”

Amara pursed her lips in chagrin. “Adi Batur is a brilliant man and an inspiration to our own engineers, but their efforts have not been successful in reopening any of the three lost portals. They managed to repair two of the damaged portal stations in orbit over Chaka, but when they reconnected all twelve stations around the perimeter, it had no effect on the portal’s configuration. Whatever technology the Drahks use on the ground overrides anything we try to do.”

“And we can’t fight them on the ground unless we can get back in through the portals, correct Admiral?” Ulu asked to her right.

“Unfortunately, that’s the way it stands, Councilor. The planetary gridlines that converge within the portals are controlled by our orbiting stations. The Drahks have some means of breaking through our locks and reweaving the portal threads to keep us out.”

“Admiral, have there been any more attempts to destroy the transport gates outside the portals?” one of the visiting dignitaries queried from the far end of the table.

“No, thanks the stars,” Amara replied. “Since their bombardments to the ring over Gado didn’t have any impact, they seem to have abandoned the effort. Warships apparently have the means of navigating through stargates without using the old network of metallic gates like we do. We’re extremely fortunate the alloys used in the rings’ construction seem to be impervious to disruptor blasts.”

“What’s next, Admiral?” a heavyset man in purple robes inquired nervously. “Chaka and Gado are outworld mining colonies. Kimbo is warm, but has few resources. The Drahks aren’t going to be content with those three small worlds.”

“No, they’re not. We believe they’re using Kimbo as a base to raise more of the vicious saur beasts they use to control conquered populations. Their fleet is growing with every new convoy that makes it past us. We can expect an attack on any one of the five remaining worlds … at any moment.”

The conference room erupted with a swell of distressed chatter. Magnus glanced around the long tables at the sea of frightened faces and exchanged a dour look with Alasdair.

Yuri’s mellifluous voice pierced through the agitated commotion. “Has there been any contact from the invading warlord, Admiral Tungo?”

Amara waited until the noise quieted down somewhat before attempting to speak. “No, not a word on any channel. We’ve tried time and time again to open a dialog, but we get nothing but static. What has your experience been while fighting the Drahks in other systems, Captain?”

All eyes in the room turned to the Tori leader. “They tend to be arrogant bastards,” Yuri declared bluntly, “over-confident and sadistic. They speak Mothertongue when they want to, but since they’re a top-down culture, you won’t hear anything until the commanding warlord is ready to speak to you. Then it will be nothing but threats and gloating.”

“Wonderful,” the admiral replied as fearful voices rose once again. “Alright,” she announced loudly. “Unless there is any other business to be discussed, we’ll break for today. Anyone? No? Stay alert, people. Thank you all for coming.”

Magnus thumped his chair back down to the floor and rose, turning to follow Alasdair and Hayk slowly down the crowded aisle. The three tall Tarsians wound through the throngs of robed diplomats until they made it through the door and out into the buzzing hallway. “Hang on,” Magnus called out when he saw Yuri’s white crest a short distance away bobbing above the dark heads of the Meropean diplomats gathered around him.

Alasdair nodded, pointing to a spot at the side of the hall. “We’ll wait over there.”

“Like hell we will,” Hayk cut in. “We’re coming, too. Lead on, Mag.”

The moment the Maian captain caught sight of the Alcyoni officers making their way toward him, he extracted himself from the conversation and rushed toward Magnus, throwing his arms around him in a warm embrace.

“It’s good to see you!” he said with a piping laugh.

“You, too,” Magnus replied, beaming up at the Tori birdman who towered over him by half a head. “You’re such a hot-shot these days.”

Yuri grinned. “Looks like you’re pretty studly yourself, Captain. Are these your officers?”

Magnus nodded and stepped back, introducing Alasdair and Hayk who shook the Tori’s hand with uncharacteristic enthusiasm.

“You just had to ruffle the chickens in there, didn’t you,” Magnus teased his old friend.

Yuri shrugged casually. “No use sugar coating it. They’ll find out soon enough for themselves how vile the reptilians can be.”

“Your fleet really seems to get around,” Hayk remarked. “Is it just the Tori or do the human populations in Maia share your dedication to fighting the Drahks?”

“It’s mostly the Tori, but our human minorities seem to feel just as strongly as we do that protecting our shrinking network of allies and trading partners is worth the risk. If someone needs our help and we have the stargate codes programmed into our transport gates, we’ll go.”

“Good for you,” Magnus nodded as he spotted Ulu’s green robes approaching from behind Yuri.

The Saharan councilor reached up and placed both hands on the birdman’s shoulders. “Are you up for a little adventure, Captain Stardancer?”

Yuri whirled around with a chirrup and grabbed Ulu into a bear hug. “As long as it doesn’t involve reptiles,” he laughed as he stepped back.

“Ah, but it does,” the Saharan replied with a cryptic smile. “And how about you, young bull?”

Magnus crossed his arms and let out a short sniff. “Well, I suppose, since these two were so eager to get rid of me earlier.”

“Good choice, Mag,” Alasdair declared brightly with a clap on the back. “We’ll head back to the shuttle for a little shut-eye. Have a good time and don’t hurry back!” the brown-haired Caledoni added in a pronounced brogue as he snatched Hayk’s sleeve and hurriedly pulled the pilot off down the hall.

Magnus glanced up at Yuri, his mouth twisting into a half-grin. “My brother-in-law,” he mumbled under his breath.

“You’re married?” Yuri squawked in surprise.

“Yup,” Magnus replied with a cocky flip of his head. “And we have a toddler, a sweet little boy.”

“Good for you. Me, too. We have twins.” Yuri’s eyes danced as his friend’s face instantly clouded over with an irritated frown.

“Ah, takes me right back to the first summer you two spent with us,” Ulu sighed, quickly stepping between the two younger men, lifting his arms to lay them across each of their shoulders. “Yuri, do you need to let your people know that I’m abducting you for a short time?”

“Yes, just a moment.” Turning his head, the Maian captain whistled a few short phrases to a tufted chartreuse officer who nodded and tweeted a reply before turning back to her conversation with several Meropean diplomats.

“Alright, let’s go have some fun,” Ulu said with relish. “We may not have this opportunity again for a long time.”

Magnus glanced over his shoulder at the dozen aides hovering a few feet behind the high councilor. “Are they coming, too?”

“Yes, some of them will. I’m afraid it goes with the job,” the Saharan leader whispered before moving his guests forward down the wide hall in the direction of the landing field adjacent to Fleet Headquarters. “I took the liberty of arranging for one of the fleet shuttles to take us out to the site a few miles northwest of the city.”

“Site?” Magnus echoed. “As in dirt and digging?”

“Indeed, Magnus. It seems one of my wife’s protégés stumbled upon something rather extraordinary.”

“New ruins?” Yuri asked, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

“Even better than that, my young friend—bones.”

“Yessssss!” the birdman hissed, pulling both fists up next to his chest excitedly.

Ulu hurried them down the main corridor toward the front entrance where a young airman held open one of the heavy bronze doors. Out on the pavement a few dozen paces away a pair of Meropean pilots stood next to a sleek craft that was idling, waiting for the high councilor’s party to arrive.

“Wow, red carpet,” Magnus mumbled as he climbed aboard and moved toward one of the forward seats.

“Would you prefer a dusty lorry and hours of rough ground travel?” Ulu’s voice teased behind him.

“No, this will do just fine.” The captain grinned as Yuri took the seat next to him while several of Ulu’s aides piled into the remaining seats behind the councilor. The two pilots jumped aboard and sealed off the door before stalking down the aisle to the cockpit. Within minutes, the small craft was airborne, scuttling smoothly over the rooftops of Fleet Headquarters to rise in an arc above the sprawling capital city of Pemba.

“So where’s the site?” Magnus called out as he watched the city fall away beneath the shuttle.

“On the plateau below the Tonga Range just northwest of the outermost settlements.”

“I’m surprised it’s so close,” Yuri remarked. “I would have thought anything worth excavating in the area would have been discovered by now or inadvertently destroyed through human activity.”

“We often miss the remarkable in familiar surroundings,” the Saharan replied. “The rarest treasure can remain hidden right under our noses if we’re not looking for something special.”

“So how did they find this one?”

“It took the eyes of an exceptional young man with the vision to see it and the determination to make people listen.”

The outskirts of the city thinned and petered out across land that rose in soft, grassy undulations. A narrow river snaked its way through the arid landscape at the base of steep bluffs sprinkled with gorse and scrub.

As the shuttle skimmed over the sparse hills rolling across the plateau, Magnus scoured the ground, searching for the first signs of an archeological dig. A narrow dirt road meandered across the dry expanse and ended abruptly at the base of a large conical hill where several dozen parked vehicles sparkled under the midday sun.

“Where is everybody?” he asked as the shuttle was brought down in an open area next to the collection of dusty rovers and lorries.

“Inside,” the councilor answered with a sly grin as he got up and followed one of the pilots to the exit to disembark.

Magnus threw a quizzical look to Yuri who shrugged and walked ahead of him toward the door. As they climbed out of the shuttle, Ulu stood waiting and waved a hand toward a stand of wind-battered trees at the foot of the hill, indicating that they should walk on in that direction ahead of him.

As they neared the copse, Magnus’s eyes caught sight of the unmistakable lines of dressed stonework surrounding the shadowy entrance to a tunnel. A quietly humming generator had been set up next to a pile of cleared rock and debris to one side, and a string of small lights extended into the arched tunnel, giving it a soft, unearthly glow.

Yuri flew past the entrance and started to run, the thud of his boots disappearing quickly down the dimly lit tunnel leading straight into the heart of the hill. Magnus stepped up to the wall to his right and reached a hand out to run his fingers along the clean joint between two of the rough-hewn blocks of stone.

“By the Prime,” he muttered, “no mortar.”

“That’s right,” Ulu confirmed behind him. “With all our space-faring technology, we don’t have the skills to cut and fit stone like this.”

“No, we don’t. So who did?”

“We haven’t a clue,” the Saharan laughed amiably. “Come, the mysteries get even deeper.”

Magnus broke his gaze away from the enigmatic wall and walked beside his friend, squinting until his eyes adjusted to the low level of light. The tunnel was wide enough for perhaps three men to walk shoulder to shoulder and the ceiling rose into a rounded arch at least three feet above their heads. Up ahead he could see from the change of light that the tunnel opened up into some kind of open space at the end.

“Are there other tunnels or entrances leading into to the chamber up there?”

“No, this is the only one.”

Magnus looked back over his shoulder toward the entrance and stopped walking for a moment, his eyes narrowed in speculation. “East—it faces east.”

“Quite precisely—very good, Azizi,” Ulu beamed, using the Saharan nickname he had given Magnus years ago as a teen.

The sounds of a muted discussion echoing off of stone walls floated down the tunnel. A mellow feminine voice rose above the others, calling out for some kind of instrument.

“Ah, my lovely wife.” The councilor quickened his pace and moved on ahead, his long robes billowing around him in a green swirl as they caught the light from the lanterns in front of him.

Magnus took his time walking the length of the tunnel and when he stepped into the central chamber, he pulled in a startled breath. The circular room was perhaps a hundred paces in diameter with unadorned walls that stood at least twice his height. The cavernous space swallowed up the light from the scattered lanterns on the floor, but it was enough to be able to discern that there were no seams or joints whatsoever in the wide expanse of cut stone rising in an arch far above his head. It was simply astonishing. There was nothing like this on Tarsus or anywhere else in Alcyone that he was aware of.

Pulling his eyes back down to the floor, Magnus swept his gaze over the thirty-some archeologists standing or bent over their work at the center of the space. At the far end, Yuri crouched on one knee, deep in discussion with one of the scientists, his white head glowing in the lamplight as he nodded and pointed at something between them in the packed dirt.

Magnus started across the floor and was several paces away from Ulu when a shout rang out in the chamber. A short figure tore around the councilor’s robes, streaking toward the tunnel entrance with his arm and hand clutched tightly to his body. Magnus reached out quickly and snatched the small boy up into the air, bringing a shriek and squeal of surprised laughter from his diminutive captive.

“You must be Obi,” he said as he swung the boy around and settled him on his hip, holding him firmly to keep him from squirming down and running off again. “I’m Magnus. The last time I saw you, you were a tiny little guy.”

The boy’s dark eyes widened. “You know me?”

“Yep, I know your mom and dad, your brother Jengo, and your sister Makena.” Ulu’s youngest son stared up at him and blinked, trying to digest that bit of information. “I’ve got a tiny little guy at home myself,” he went on as the boy began to relax in his arms.

“You do?” Obi chirped. “What’s his name?”

“Kahl, and he’s about half your size right now.”

“Can you bring him to play?”

Magnus grinned. “I’ll try, but I can’t promise when. For now, show me what you’ve got in your hand.”

The boy frowned doubtfully, pulling his small fist up against his chest.

“It’s ok,” Magnus soothed, “you’re not in trouble, at least not with me.”

“They never let me touch anything,” Obi complained softly.

“Your mom never wanted me to either. She thought I’d break something,” he said, clicking his tongue and rolling his eyes to the ceiling, bringing a giggle from the small boy. “But after a while, I showed her I could be careful and then it was ok.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Magnus lifted his right hand and held it open in front of the little boy. Obi’s eyes locked onto his and he lowered his arm, his small fingers opening to reveal what looked like a finger bone several inches long laying across his palm.

Obi sucked in a loud breath as he stared at Magnus, his eyes widening with sudden shock as if he were looking up at something terrifying. Confused, Magnus furrowed his brow. “Obi, what is it?”

The boy quickly dropped the bone into Magnus’s palm and laid his small hand down over it again. “You look,” he hissed insistently.

Magnus studied Obi’s youthful features and abruptly an enormous pair of luminous amber eyes was staring him down out of a huge, spiky brown head. The energy boring into him was enough to make him take a step back in order to keep his balance in the face of such direct and unexpected scrutiny. As he rallied his internal equilibrium, he realized in a flash of relief that whatever—or whoever—this was did not intend any harm but was simply curious. He relaxed instantly and felt Obi’s small frame lose its tension as the child followed his lead.

For several heartbeats, the amber eyes watched him without moving or blinking. Magnus felt strangely compelled to reach out and touch the pebbled snout he was seeing, but as soon as the thought formed in his mind, the vivid image faded. He found himself staring into Obi’s dark eyes which reflected the same puzzlement that he knew was written plainly across his own features.

A gentle hand landed on Magnus’s shoulder and he turned his head to look down into the knowing brown eyes of Desta Malawi.

“What did you see, Azizi?”

“It was … I—” he stammered, still dazed from the startling encounter.

Desta laughed softly. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you at a loss for words.”

“A face,” he spit out. “Glowing eyes, in some kind of reptilian face. I’ve never see anything like it.”

“Intelligent?”

Magnus nodded. “Yes, incredibly.”

The archeologist’s eyes narrowed as she cocked her head thoughtfully to one side. “I always had a feeling you possessed the ability to see. I wonder how you’ll use such a gift.”

“You mean I can do that at will?”

“Most likely, yes. Perhaps this extraordinary room triggered your experience just now, but with focus and training—sky’s the limit, my friend. And you,” she stated emphatically, turning her gaze to her youngest child. Obi squirmed in Magnus’s grasp and tipped his head down, bracing himself for a reprimand.

“I should scold you for running off with one of the bones,” she began firmly, “but I’m sure whatever you saw was much more daunting than I’ll ever be.” The boy’s mouth turned up with a small, sheepish grin.

“Now that I know you have this special talent as well, young bandit,” Desta went on in an indulgent tone, “ask me if you can hold something and I will make the time to help you. Agreed?”

Obi nodded and laughed, grabbing the bone off of Magnus’s palm so he could drop it into his mother’s outstretched hand. Scrambling out of the big man’s arms, he jumped to the floor and ran off again around his father’s green robes.

Desta closed her fist around the finger bone and smiled up at Magnus. “Thank you,” she whispered gratefully. Behind her, Ulu stood with his arms crossed and a broad smile covering his face having witnessed the entire bone-snatching escapade.

“Oh, it’s sooo good to see you,” Desta declared warmly, slipping her hands up around Magnus’s broad back to pull him down into a hug.

“I’ve missed you, too,” he replied. “And these digs. So show me what you’ve found this time.”

Sliding one arm around his waist, the slim archaeologist pulled him forward toward the lights and the crowd of people kneeling or squatting over the findings in the floor. “Well, you may have just gotten a better glimpse of the creature than we’ll ever see. Take a look.”

Stepping carefully between two women hunched over with brushes and measuring devices, Magnus drew in a deep breath as he scanned over the array of bones spread out in both directions. The spine of the creature lay in a long sinewy curve through the middle of the scattered skeleton and had to measure at least sixty feet from the head end to the tip of its tail. Four distinct hip or shoulder joints could easily be made out in the fragments that were visible as well as a collection of large, curved rib bones near the center.

“It looks like it was laying on its belly when it died,” Magnus marveled aloud. “But the weirdest part of all this is the room—it’s like a burial mound.”

“Yes,” Desta agreed, “but take a look again at the tunnel.”

The Tarsian flipped his head around to glance over his shoulder at the sole entry point to the chamber. “There’s no way the creature could have fit through that passage.”

“That’s right. We’re completely stumped.”

“Any human remains or artifacts?”

“Not so far. Most of the people you see here are paleontologists, but this doesn’t fit into anything they’re familiar with either. Come, let me introduce you to the man who stumbled into all this.” Grabbing Magnus by the hand, Desta led him back out beyond the perimeter of working figures and walked down to the end of the skeleton around Yuri’s kneeling form. The man across from the Maian captain looked up and stood when he saw Desta and Magnus approach.

“Adisa Mungári, this is Magnus Talrésian, another one of my former students,” the Saharan professor explained, smiling down into Yuri’s bright eyes before lifting her gaze back to Magnus.

“Pleased to meet you, Captain,” the soft-spoken young man said in a rush, glancing at Magnus’s uniform as he reached out to shake the Alcyoni officer’s hand.

The moment Magnus touched Adisa’s palm, he froze as a bright flash of the reptile’s face reappeared in front of him once again. This time he could have sworn the amber eyes raked over his entire length before they vaporized like smoke.

“Magnus?” Desta’s gentle voice sounded to his left and he realized he was clutching Adisa’s fragile hand far too tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he said with surprise and quickly released his grip on the young man’s hand.

“Another face?”

“The same,” he explained, glancing to his right at the monstrous skull protruding from the dirt in front of Yuri. “That one, only alive.”

“You could see it?” Adisa asked eagerly as Yuri rose from the ground next to his friend.

“Yeah, I saw it—twice.”

The Saharan archeologist looked at Magnus with wide eyes. He shifted his gaze up to the towering birdman and then down to the reptilian skull gaping starkly out of the dirt floor. “I’m not sure which of you giants is more intimidating,” he said in a small voice.

Magnus’s deep laughter rang throughout the vast chamber and bounced off the walls, causing several dozen heads to bob up from their work. Yuri looked at him with a startled expression and immediately began to laugh.

“By the Prime, just listen to that sound!” the Maian crowed and cupped his hands around his beak, letting out several clear, warbling sequences that rose and rolled across the expanse of the stone ceiling. “Come on, Mag, make some sound with me!” he bellowed as he stalked off in a wide arc around the chamber toward the entrance, trying out different tones and patterns to see what the effects would be in the open space.

Yuri’s excitement was infectious. Magnus threw a glance at Desta’s raised eyebrows and grinned. “What? He doesn’t care,” he said with a wave of his hand toward the silent reptilian skeleton.

“She,” Adisa corrected quietly.

“She doesn’t care,” Magnus amended before moving around the perplexed young scholar and heading off toward the west side of the chamber, adding his own baritone voice beneath Yuri’s sonorous tones. He walked slowly with his eyes closed, reveling in the richness of the sound, and came to a halt when he sensed he had gone about the same distance as Yuri. He turned and opened his eyes, making his deep tones in natural harmonics with the Maian captain who stood directly across from him in front of the tunnel entrance on the other side of the skeleton.

Between them at the center of the chamber, Ulu lifted his arms and raised his bold, resonant voice moments before Desta joined in from where she stood at the skeleton’s head. Slowly, one by one, the nonplussed academics rose from their work on the floor to add their voices to the reverberating harmonics, tentatively at first, but then strong and fluid until the wide room vibrated like a giant bell.

After several long minutes, the sound naturally tapered away. Magnus stood watching Yuri, allowing the echoing sensations to settle into his system when the Tori captain whipped hastily around at the sound of running footsteps approaching from the depths of the tunnel. One of Ulu’s aides burst into the chamber and ran directly to the high councilor, speaking quickly with hushed, clipped words.

“Magnus, Yuri—we’re needed back in Pemba, immediately!” The Saharan leader threw an apologetic look to his wife who nodded patiently, apparently quite used to the frequent demands of Ulu’s position.

Alarmed, Magnus tore around the tail end of the skeleton to the spot where Yuri stood waiting for him, tensed and ready to run. Ulu broke away from his small, frowning son and hurried after the two fleet captains who were already tearing down the tunnel toward the exit.

Bright sunlight stunned Magnus’s eyes as he and Yuri shot out of the passage and raced toward the pilot standing beside the open hatch. The councilor was seconds behind them in clambering aboard the humming shuttle. Ulu seated himself next to one of his aides, conferring in low tones, while the co-pilot hurriedly sealed the door and strode to the front to strap himself in.

In moments, the small craft was lifted off and sped toward Pemba. Magnus and Yuri turned their heads and waited expectantly for Ulu to fill them in with the details of the emergency.

“Masala’s primary portal is under attack,” the councilor stated grimly. “The Drahkian warband came pouring out of Kimbo’s portal about twenty minutes ago and engaged the twelve ships stationed beside the transport ring.”

Magnus’s pulse jumped. “Anyone hurt?” he blurted with the images of the Ildirim’s crew still fresh in his mind.

“Not yet. One of our vessels sustained damage during the exchange over Kimbo before the warband transported out and reappeared over Masala’s primary portal space.”

Yuri tensed. “We had eight Birdwings on duty to support Masala’s five vessels.”

“Which is why the Drahks didn’t succeed in their first attempt to break through the portal locks. Your people are good, Yuri. The Kimboan guard transported through the gate on the heels of the warband and Miros Silésian brought ten ships in from Alcyone within two minutes after the call went out. Amara Tungo is already in the air and marshaling the rest of the Meropean fleet, but the more ships we can get to Masala, the better.”

“How many in the warband?” Magnus asked.

“Thirty-four.”

Magnus looked into Yuri’s glassy dark eyes. “They’re stronger than the last time we took them on.”

“Without a doubt.”

The shuttle thrust forward with a sudden burst of speed. “We had the airspace over Pemba cleared so we can get you back as quickly as possible, Captains,” one of the pilots relayed over his shoulder. “Your officers are ready to take off. We’ll drop in as close as we can between your two shuttles.”

“We’re grateful to you both,” Yuri replied, clutching the armrests of his seat restlessly as the shuttle sped over the rooftops of the capital city below. “And Ulu, thank you for taking us to see that amazing find.”

“Give Desta and your kids our love,” Magnus added beside him.

“I will.” The councilor reached up to grip their shoulders, squeezing them both in unspoken concern for their safety.

Within a few short minutes, the Pemban airfield came into view. As promised, the Saharan pilots brought the small vessel down within a stone’s throw of the off-world shuttles. Yuri was out of his seat like a bullet and threw open the hatch, jumping to the pavement in a single bound. “Stay alive, Magnus!” he shouted and took off at a run toward the open door of the Maian vessel.

“You, too!” Magnus yelled as he leapt to the ground and raced in the other direction toward the white Tarsian craft where Alasdair stood waiting.

“Step it up, big man!” the Caledoni bellowed over the hum of the shuttle’s engine.

“You couldn’t wait to get rid of me an hour ago,” he threw back as he flew through the open hatch.

“Sorry, Mag. Miros gave me thirty minutes to get back to the Zephyr and bring her through the gate,” Alasdair answered fretfully as he jumped in and pulled the door down with a slam. “If the Saharans hadn’t gotten you back so quickly we would have been forced to leave you. We’ll barely make it as it is.”

“I know, Al. Bad timing.” Magnus stalked to the front and flung himself into the empty pilot seat next to Hayk. “I’m driving.”

“I figured,” the sandy-haired pilot replied with a sideways smile, handing him a crystalline headset.

Magnus glanced at the stolid man as he activated the device and inserted it into his ear. “You’re ten times the pilot I am, Hayk,” he admitted, running his hands over the controls and checking the screens for clearance. “I just miss it.”

“Yeah, I know. I’d be the same way if they pushed me into command.”

“Watch out, man,” Magnus muttered as he readied the craft for take-off. “You and that creature back there will probably be tapped next.”

A shiny reflection streaked across the front shield as the Maian vessel lifted off the pavement and sped up into the air. Magnus eased the shuttle up away from the wide expanse of concrete, pulling it into an upward arc before pushing the craft to its maximum acceleration.

“They’re sending the sequence to clear the portal,” Hayk relayed, calling attention to the set of numbers appearing on each of their screens.

“Got it.”

Magnus redirected the nose of the shuttle toward the coordinates which would allow them safe passage through the complex energy grid of Sahara’s primary portal. The teal glow of the upper atmosphere layers surrounded them as the first glimpse of the orbiting portal stations came into view. Beyond the dark frames of the metal and crystalline constructs, the distinctive cobalt blue signature of the Pleiadian dust cloud spread across the heavens like the swirling mist of a frozen waterfall.

Magnus slowed the ascent of the craft just enough to allow him to navigate the twisting turns of the invisible corridor mapped out for them by the Pemban ground crew between the woven energetic bands regulated by the twelve mechanical stations. “Alright, last layer,” he murmured, following the mathematical pathway with deft precision.

“We’re clear,” Hayk confirmed. “Zephyr at two o’clock.”

Switching channels on his headset, Magnus propelled the shuttle toward the sleek starship hovering in orbit just outside the wide portal zone. “Hurik, we’re thirty seconds out,” he called to the navigation officer he’d left in command. “Be ready to move to the gate as soon as we’ve docked.”

“We see you, Captain,” the feminine voice replied. “We’re ready to fly.”

A brilliant flash of gold rising from the left caught Magnus’s eye for a split second as the shuttle raced toward the Zephyr. The shimmering form of a Maian Birdwing vessel glinted in the light of Merope as it shot swiftly upward in the direction of the transport gate and disappeared out of his peripheral vision.

Be safe, Yuri, he prayed silently as the bright opening of the Zephyr’s side bay rushed to meet them. He shot the vessel through the outer energy shield and straight into the dock, bringing it to a swift landing as the bay door closed behind them.

“We’re in, Hurik. Get us to the gate!” he ordered over the com. Al pushed the hatch open while he and Hayk jumped from their seats. The starship pulled into motion as the three officers poured out of the shuttle and tore across the bay to the corridor leading into the center of the ship.

“Hayk, get your teams ready to fly, just in case they release fighters or transports.” The pilot nodded and took off toward the back bays while Magnus and Alasdair raced forward toward the bridge at the heart of the Zephyr.

The wide round room buzzed with conversation between the officers stationed around the circular bank of consoles and crew members they directed who were scattered throughout the large vessel. Above the consoles floated a solid holographic image of Sahara dotted with markers and readings from the twelve orbiting portal stations and the transport ring in space several miles above. A second hologram displaying a close-up view of the huge metallic gate appeared above Sahara as Magnus and Alasdair stepped up next to the willowy form of Hurik Kataryan seated at the navigation console.

“We’re ready for the shift as soon as we reach the gate, Captain. All hands are battle ready,” the officer reported, turning wide pale eyes up to his as she waited for his orders.

“Alright, key in Masala’s gate coordinates,” Magnus instructed as he and Al took their seats at the command console. “Thora, raise full shields when we pull through the gate. Rob, Ari, weapons up—be ready to lock and fire as soon as we transport. We don’t know what’s waiting for us.” At the nods of his two tactical officers, Magnus refocused on the holo of the approaching transport ring in front of the Zephyr.

“Hurik, take us through.”

The starship plunged forward into the space between the silvery walls of the ancient construct and emerged out of the transport ring several miles over Masala’s portal. Instantly both holograms shifted to views of the ship above the glowing bluish-green mass of Merope’s mid-sized second planet.

The Zephyr shook as a pair of dark Drahkian warships darted in from the port side and opened fire.

“Rob, fire all forward lasers! Al, take over—move us out away from the gate and keep firing. I’ve got to contact the admiral to get a handle on the situation.”

As Alasdair shot out orders, the ship shook again from another blast and vibrated with the firing of their own laser canons. The hologram flickered with new images as their sensors picked up and populated the positions of the Pleiadian vessels as well as numerous moving Drahkian discs.

Magnus shifted his headset and opened a channel to the Corum, the flagship of the Alcyoni fleet. “Miros, we’re here.” A viewscreen on his console shifted to reveal the dark-haired, grimacing image of Miros Silésian.

“And taking some fire,” the admiral stated, watching his own holographic view of the ships above Masala’s airspace. “That pair of warships has been dogging anything that comes through the gate. We haven’t been able to nail them.”

“Yuri’s Birdwing made it through ok?”

“Yeah, he came blasting through like you did just a few seconds ago and took off to join his wing.”

The Zephyr rocked again with another discharge of laser fire. Alasdair’s voice beside him cracked out steady instructions as Magnus scrutinized the ship positions in the glowing holo.

“I see the Corum and the Loki, several of ours from Tarsus and Chi, Admiral Tungo’s Nomvikeli, and a batch of Meropean ships spread out over the portal space. Which vessel is Admiral Rimstrider’s? It’s not marked any differently than the rest.”

“Tanamar is at the back of that delta formation of Birdwings making the rounds over the portal stations. Yuri’s ship is now leading the eagle formation that just drove off a party of warships. The small secondary portal on the far side of the planet is being covered by a group of Meropean ships, our Niemian forces, and another Birdwing contingent.”

“And what have our friendly Drahks been up to this time?”

“The warships have been hammering us in three groups, but they seem to be taking direction from one core band which must be the one carrying their commander. They’ve come at us eight times trying to get close to the portal, but we’ve managed to hold them off while Tanamar’s Birdwings sweep in from behind to disrupt their formations. Three Drahkian ships have taken minor hits and so have four of ours, but so far, no complete losses, thank the Prime.”

“Where do you want us, Miros?”

“See if you can do something about that pair of gate stalkers. Looks like they’re coming around for another pass in your direction. Three of our ships from Ki are preparing to make the jump and I want them all to have a clear shot at getting through. We’re going to need all of you—the enemy fleet is no doubt regrouping to make another jab at the portal.”

“We’ll handle it.”

“Good. Link into our channel and keep it open for further instructions.”

“Got it,” Magnus confirmed, muting his mic and keying into the admirals’ channel, putting it on speaker for the rest of the bridge officers. “Listen up—our orders are to handle those two warships that hit us when we came through. They—”

“Just disappeared,” Alasdair snapped, his eyes glued to the streaking images in the glowing holo above them.

“Damn it!” Outside of breaking their portals, the most disconcerting aspect of dealing with the reptilian invaders was their ability to shift in and out of space in the blink of an eye using some kind of technology none of them had ever encountered, putting the entire Pleiadian fleet at a distinct disadvantage. “Keep your eyes peeled everyone. Aft cannons ready?”

“Standing by,” Ari replied tensely.

Several silent heartbeats passed while all eyes in the room focused on the floating image of the transport ring and their own vessel hovering in space a short distance away.

“There, just behind the gate!” Alasdair called out as the two dark discs reemerged into space a short distance beyond the shiny construct, heading in an arc around the ring in their direction. In the next instant, the first of the three Ki’an ships burst through the gate into the space just above them.

“Bloody hell, our people don’t know what’s coming. Ari, fire three aft shots at the lead warship to see if you can deflect them away. Hurik, get us turned around while I call the Jutsu.”

The ship hummed with the muffled sound of cannon fire while Alasdair rapped out directions to the officers. Magnus quickly punched in the request to open a link with the Ki’an vessel and the beautiful image of Kometani Mitsu, Alcyoni’s youngest captain, rippled across one of his screens. He grabbed the edge of his console as the Zephyr pulled abruptly about. “Mitsu, we’ve got a pair of warships whipping around the gate right above you at 10 o’clock.”

“I see them, Magnus. That’s not good. The Senshi and Myōjō ought to be coming through right behind us.”

“Then follow our lead and get that useless tactical officer of yours firing everything you’ve got,” he threw out, knowing Mitsu’s husband and fellow officer was probably monitoring the channel.

“We’ll be right behind you,” the deep voice of Kometani Ando cut in. “Just don’t get in my way, Tarsian.”

The Zephyr shook as it took another blow from the oncoming gray disc. “Rob, fire!” Magnus yelled. “Aim at the rim of the warship closest to the gate. We’ve got to protect two more Ki’an ships coming through.”

The second set of volleys from the Zephyr’s forward cannons hit the side of the huge disc in a shower of sparks, causing it to bank away from the gate just as the Jutsu came around them and launched a barrage of beams at the second Drahkian vessel, pushing it off in the same direction as the first. The bright form of the Senshi shot out of the gate, followed seconds later by the smaller Myōjō.

“Hurik, set a course after those two warships,” Magnus directed as he picked up the interchange between Mitsu and the two other captains across a joint channel.

“It’s no use,” Al groused, “they just vanished again.”

“Down there!” Ari exclaimed. “Two ships just reappeared at the back of a formation several miles outside the portal.”

Magnus quickly readjusted the primary holo view at the center of the table to focus on a group of warship discs skimming above the surface of Masala’s grid. “I only count eleven,” he noted. “What happened to the rest?” He pulled the zoom back out to cover the entire portal area below their position. The Meropean vessels and the larger Alcyoni ships moved in slow patrol between the twelve orbiting stations of the portal. Two shimmering clusters of the faster, lighter Maian Birdwings circled and crisscrossed the space above the main contingent, waiting and watching for the next attack.

“Mag, Mitsu, bring your group down and cover the zone just outside the stations,” the admiral’s voice directed over the open channel.

“On our way,” Mitsu relayed over the link.

“Hurik, bring the Zephyr in behind the Myōjō and take us down,” Magnus ordered. “Ari, Rob, be ready to strike.”

As the group began its descent, Magnus scoured the holo, barely breathing, watching for the inevitable reappearance of enemy craft somewhere on the field.

In a blazing display of light, a band of Drahkian warships swooped in between two of the orbiting stations, firing non-stop blasts at three of the nearest ships, severely crippling one of the Meropean vessels seconds before the two stations exploded. Several Meropean ships clustered defensively around the wounded vessel and returned fire just as the group of eleven warships outside the perimeter on the far side shot in and launched an attack on the patrolling Pleiadian vessels. The Corum and Loki engaged them immediately, driving the charcoal discs back away from the portal stations before they came on again, targeting one of the Chi’an patrol ships.

“Twelve warships still haven’t shown up yet,” Al muttered beside him.

“Yeah, I know, but the Birdwings are hanging back waiting for them,” Magnus pointed out as they listened to the Maian leader issuing orders. “Tanamar’s a shrewd man.”

As if on cue, a mass of dark discs materialized above the portal heading straight into the space opening between the two groups of embattled vessels.

“No!” Al snapped, his face twisting into a tense grimace.

“Hang on,” Magnus declared as all eyes on the bridge riveted onto the groups of flying images. A sudden blitz of weapon fire hit the lead warship as two streaks of gold cut across its path from opposite directions, blowing the Drahkian vessel into a shower of scattering debris an instant before two more Birdwings swooped in and attacked the second warship in the formation with the same dramatic results.

As the wreckage from the two exploded ships radiated outward, the rest of the warship band veered away and transported immediately out of the space above the portal. Moments later, the other two groups of discs ceased their onslaughts and vanished from the field.

“Yessss!!” Magnus hissed while the bridge officers clapped and let out whoops of relief.

As the Zephyr and Ki’an vessels pulled into position just beyond the perimeter of the orbiting stations, Magnus watched the holo of the portal zone and listened to the Pleiadian admirals discuss strategy across the open channel. The crippled Meropean ship hung bleakly above the portal, outwardly tranquil, but he was all too aware of the critical pandemonium that the captain and crew were no doubt experiencing throughout the damaged vessel.

Abruptly, the Drahkian warships appeared en masse outside the portal in a tight array, hovering above the grid several miles away.

“That’s odd,” Al began, shifting the holo slightly for a sharper view of the warband’s position. “They’re—”

“Just a sec, Al.” Magnus held up a quick hand for silence as crackling interference cut across the channels on his headset. A rough, scratchy voice broke into the transmission demanding attention in heavily accented Mothertongue. Magnus’s hands flew over the controls to pull in the signal and throw it up over the central hologram.

“The bloody Drahk is making contact,” he exclaimed an instant before the form of a grayish-tan reptilian man with dark eyes and a light spiky crest solidified in the room above the bridge officers.

Amara Tungo’s incisive voice came into the transmission. “This is Admiral Tungo of the Meropean fleet. Cease your—”

The Drahk let out an impatient bellow and swiped his hand in front of him to cut her off. “A female?” He tipped his head back and guffawed, revealing a row of razor sharp teeth in a wide jawline. “You can’t be serious. What kind of a government would put a female in charge? I will speak only with a male,” he growled tersely.

“This is Miros Silésian, Admiral of the Alcyoni fleet. Do you—”

“You interfere with my territory, human from Alcyone—you and the bird creatures,” the reptile snarled menacingly. “There will be a price for your insolence.”

“You are the trespasser here!” Admiral Rimstrider spat out. “You have no rights in Merope whatsoever.”

The reptile chuckled softly. “The birdman has a backbone. You took out two of my best captains and some costly equipment just now, Maian. The bonus I pay for destroying any of your puny vessels just went up.”

“Do you answer to an overlord?” Miros pressed. “I want to speak to your leader.”

“I answer to no one but the Emperor and he gave me this system!” the Drahk roared. “I am Salaal! You will all bend your knees to me or you will perish.”

“We kneel to no one, reptile,” Amara snapped fiercely, clearly angered by the warlord’s insults. “Get out of Merope!”

Ignoring the admiral entirely, the Drahk turned his head to the side and issued a curt order in his own language to one of his officers before crossing his arms casually and refocusing on the Pleiadian leaders. “I am releasing a small vessel of Kimboan diplomats,” he declared with an oily smirk. “It will give you the opportunity to see what the remaining Meropean worlds can look forward to after I conquer them. I will take you down one portal at a time.” With a gravelly laugh, Salaal abruptly ended the transmission.

The Zephyr’s bridge officers watched raptly as Magnus readjusted the holo of Masala to a larger view of the Drahkian ships hovering just beyond the Pleiadian vessels spread out across the portal space. One of the dark gray warships broke from the formation and moved in a slow arc between the two banks of ships, pausing briefly to expel a small freighter from one of its bays before moving back toward the Drahkian line.

The channel crackled as Amara began issuing curt orders before she withdrew to another frequency. “Hold on, everyone,” Miros’s steely voice relayed over the channel.

Magnus quickly opened a secondary holo of the floating craft and zoomed in for a closer look. The blocky cargo ship was badly damaged, showing blatant evidence of weapon fire and wide patches of charred metal. There were no lights to be seen anywhere on the vessel and, for all intents and purposes, appeared to be completely devoid of life.

“Are they going to go pick it up?” Al wondered aloud.

“Yeah, there.” Magnus pointed to a Meropean starship in the primary holo moving out away from one of the portal stations, gliding toward the abandoned craft until it came within close range. A pair of fighters sped out from the starship and circled behind the vessel, using their shields to gingerly maneuver the damaged freighter into an open cargo bay.

“The Drahks are moving,” Hurik announced, pulling all eyes back to the body of dark discs rising in one lithe motion up into space. In the blink of an eye, the entire warband vanished from sight.

The bridge officers waited pensively for any indication of the Drahks’ reappearance. “Think they’ll be back?” Al mumbled as he scanned the quiet scene within the holo.

“Don’t know,” Magnus replied. “My gut says no since the Birdwings blew two of their ships, but the bastard wanted to make sure he rattled our cage before he left.”

“If he brought the Kimboans with him, he planned this whole charade.”

“Yep, just like Yuri predicted.”

Miros’s voice broke over the com link. “The Meropean guard over Kimbo just reported that the warband reappeared over the portal before sliding down through the locks. It looks like they’re finished for the day.”

“Thank the Prime,” Magnus sighed before Amara Tungo’s shaky voice came back into the channel.

“Before we set up patrols and disperse, I thought everyone here deserved to know what was on that freighter,” the admiral began, her words laced with bitterness. “When the cargo bay crew of the Kimondo approached the hatch, they could hear the shrieks … of a saur,” she said with obvious difficulty. “They forced open the door and quickly put the animal down, … but almost all the people who had been trapped inside with it were dead. The few who survived will probably never be the same.”

A heavy silence sank into the room. Magnus clenched his teeth, fighting back a sickening swell of anger. “Sadistic prick,” he whispered under his breath as he switched the admirals’ channel back to private broadcast.

Beside him, Alasdair’s hands tightened into fists on the console, his knuckles white with indignation as he sat staring at the floating holo.

“Tell the crew to stand down,” Magnus ordered softly, knowing his friend needed a momentary diversion from the outrage they were all feeling.

Moments later, Miros’s voice came over his headset. “Magnus, get those holo reports back to Tarsus so Councilor van der Meer can distribute them on to the other Alcyoni high councils. The Zephyr’s back on rotation for portal duty in twenty-four hours.”

“Right, we’re on our way.” Closing down the channel, Magnus addressed the room full of somber officers. “We’re going home—24-hour breather. Hurik, take us up to the gate.”

With a sour pit in his stomach, Magnus sat back in his chair and looked up at the hovering blue form of Masala, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that they would all be back in the not-too-distant future to face off with Salaal and his deadly warships once again.