The sudden appearance of energy flares typical of freshly lit-off drives took the Rabid Phoenix’s standing watch officer by complete surprise. Such complete surprise, in fact, that she didn’t not even get a chance to alert anyone else before the lethally beautiful crimson tracks and violet pulses of missile launches and weapons fire flashed onto her display. The new data shocked her out of her stasis, and her well-honed reactions took over. Unfortunately, even her quick reaction speeds meant nothing, for the range was well within the Terminal Affect boundary, and the flight time for the incoming fire was a mere 4.87 seconds. Her hand tripped the pressure plate, but it was too late. The Battle Stations alarm had been blaring for under a second when the weapons impacted. Without any active defenses to interdict the fire, or even any passive defenses to deflect and lessen it, the weapons fire-not even meant for the Rabid Phoenix, but for the hard used but well-kept freighter that had passed in front of it-nonetheless came crashing in on the un-suspecting ship. * * * * * * * Aerion awoke to a violent shudder and a sudden screaming wind that all spacers learn to fear. His reactions already had him diving for his suit, but he knew it was not enough. The wind pulled back just as a world ending series of detonations sounded throughout the hull. Blast doors. Thank God for AIs. Aerion turned around and found himself suited up, with his helmet sealing itself over his head. Thank God for Grey genetics and merciless DIs. He winced, despite the thousands of duplicate experiences as his suit’s plumbing connected. He suddenly had no more time for idle thoughts or wool gathering as his suit’s interfaces became live and his internal networks successfully linked and dropped him into the ship’s internal networks. “Command, DamCon reporting multiple small breaches spread from Section A-Twenty Eight to C-Seven. We have lost our main dorsal energy mount, and Launch Tubes Seven though Eleven, and Magazine One is done for the moment. Point Defense Control Charlie is a complete loss, and we have lost ten percent of our shield generation. Max Power is done by seven percent, and drive capability is reduced by thirteen percent.” There was a pause. “Chief Petty Officer Simms reports that the uplink network core is down, and so are the inter-dimensional drives. Other than that, we will be fine for now…excepting any more nasty hits.” “This is Aerion. Report.” Aerion, capable of multitasking two or three things, already had his combat equipment ready and attached, and was heading for Command at high speeds, despite the complete lack of gravity. As the voices trickled in, Aerion formulated a plan. “Oh, and DamCon, next time, don’t forget to mention the lack of AG, would ya?” Fleet Commander and First Sword of the Senior Line Aerion R. Grey said as he stepped into Command. * * * * * * The Rabid Phoenix was a tough ship-after all, she was built to travel dimensions by riding forces that would rip apart most stars-but she was not designed to take a full Alpha Strike from two Alliance cruisers, several of the locally-based ASREVs, and said cruisers’ full parasite complements (including a couple patrol boats)…but she not only took, but survived somewhat combat operable and fairly intact. Of course, as usual in life, and especially in combat, Fate had had a sense of irony. The Alpha Strike that had stranded the Rabid Phoenix in this particular dimension had not been meant to hit anything…it was simply a warning shot with epic amounts of overkill involved. After all, governments normally went to great lengths to recover stolen products from black projects of theirs…especially when the stolen product was the piece de resistance of said project, a culmination of a dozen related and connected black projects…and into this the crew of the Rabid Phoenix had strayed. All they had wanted was some rest and to check up on some people important to their leaders in this dimension, then to move on. But, as usual, Lady Fate was displaying her very twisted sense of ironic humor. The Alliance ships had noted the sudden intersection of their fire with the previously unnoticed ship (The Phoenix had been coasting in-system quietly to avoid attention.), and were not at all happy about this unknown ship. Hence the reason a couple squadrons of gunboats, two patrol boats and a few ASREVs diverted their attention to the tumbling unidentified ship that was starting to give off some strange readings. Of course, the pilots and crews of the Alliance vessels made light of it, reflecting that if they the could survive the tight-assed governmental supervisors and chilling blue-gloved agents crawling around the ships of their task force, then they could survive some “unusual” readings. Of course, combat crews-especially elite ones, like these were-have always had extreme arrogance…which is normally a good thing. Normally. But here, it was not…and the Alliance was about to discover why some cultures-even space going ones-had mistaken Greys and their allies for gods at first meeting. * * * * * * “Sir, hostiles are closing, looks like they are going to try for a boarding. We are being hailed.” “Damn. Tell them we are the Greys, and that ‘Resistance is Futile’, lest we be forced to kick their sorry asses all the back to whatever planet-bound, hick-loving, dirt grubbing ‘Academy’ or whatever where they learned how to ‘drive’ that oversized, under-powered, stinky, worthless piece of shit they call a ‘cruiser’. Oh, and send my compliments to their tactical officer…his mother was almost as good a Companion in the bed.” Aerion just looked around at the complete silence as the crew digested his unique style of communication to those making demands from a superior position. The communications officer suddenly stiffened, then burst out laughing. When she looked up into her comrades’ bewildered eyes, she burst out laughing again, and strained against her chair’s combat harness. Her hand finally managed to toggle the ongoing reply transmission to general transmission, and then all fifty-seven of the Rabid Phoenix’s crew understood her amusement. The noises coming over the comm matched the sounds of someone driven to complete shock, and the rather feeble attempts of the (apparent) Tactical Officer to reply in kind was quite gratifying. Unfortunately, the saying “All good things…” did apply in this situation. “Sir, a rather pissed-off sounding Alliance Commodore demands that we stop and be boarded at once, or he threatens to blow us out of space. Oh, and someone claiming to be a Senior Alliance Magistrate says that we will tried and imprisoned for interfering in an ongoing Alliance investigation, and that any further resistance-funny, that, seeing as they shot us-will earn the” The comm officer’s wry snort of amusement merely underlined the gravity of the situation (or lack of it to the crew) as she resumed her relay. “survivors the death penalty. This Magistrate-Tanner-says she will personally see us all to Hell if we do not comply. She is adding something…Does ‘Angolas Daemar Grey’ mean anything to you, sir?” Aerion looked her in the eyes as the four other Greys present on the Rabid Phoenix stepped into Command. He appeared to weighing something. His eyes-for a brief, fleeting moment-shone far more pain and suffering than someone of his apparent years should have. He shook himself, and any trace of pain was gone from his eyes. “Yes, those words mean something. When I was here with the Defiant, me and the Magistrate had a run-in. When it was over, the Alliance was short several dozen troops and government bully-boys, and I had gained my tortured, nearly catatonic twin and a good deal of information on the Alliances various psionically-centered black projects. As I left, I spared the Magistrate and promised-swore an oath, actually-to her what would happen if she did not stop all of the various black projects concerning psionics.” Aerion’s silence was shared by everyone on the ship-everything said had been transmitted on the ship’s network-until Dame Emily Grey spoke up. “What did you promise her, Aerion?” “That ‘The Sun would rise as One with the Agents of their Doom-and that those Agents would be Greys’.” The silence would have dragged on if not for the sudden alarms from the tactical section and the Tactical Officer’s call.