Can't Fall Back

By Ryan Viergutz

The invasion has started. Who will stop it?

The doomsday prophet Sasha Sarakshi infects a wormhole and opens a path for the Chosen, alien insects with godlike power. Prince Vespasian Shiraan responds to a call by Lord Giovanni of Istevor to stop the threat to his sectors. The Aura Empire's strongest forces, including Vespasian's rival Duke Caspian Acratani, gather to negotiate their level of commitment. While there, Vespasian learns of a project by Giovanni's daughter, Deirdre. Built of ancient tech, it could hinder the Chosen's approach.

The project fails and summons thousands of Chosen to Istevor territory. Vespasian attempts to lift the siege of four sectors with his special op squad and has to manage a million problems that arise. His mother, the Empress, takes the opportunity to retake the Core worlds, stolen by Caspian. His lieutenant, Rochelle Sarakshi, demands to know why her parents banished Sasha when he was six. Vespasian himself wants to wrest Caspian's supersoldiers from his grip and remove their connections to the Chosen.

Will Vespasian choose his homeworld or the galaxy? Can't Fall Back is the third book in the "Secrets of the Empire" series, with giant robots, bug monsters and the first stage of a galactic war.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ryan Viergutz
• Release date: May 23, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301588541

Ryan Viergutz

I'm a freelancer, writer, roleplayer and gamer. I don't want to live in the same place any longer than a year for a very long time and I am always yearning for adventure. The first two overlap often enough that they're almost the same thing, though they aren't by anyone's measure. Regardless of the state I'm in, I am always roleplaying and I allow myself to indulge in gaming, usually of a video game variety, sometimes. At any given time I will have a scifi or fantasy book in my hands or in my travel bag.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The sheer power exhibited by the steel gate crashed into Rochelle Sarakshi like a fist thrown at her gut. She had traveled through this gate, the main transfer point between the powerful Core and the oppressed Edge, at least a hundred times in her life. It had become second nature to her, the procedures a hand wave, as easy and simple as a breath taken. In her worst nightmares she had rarely imagined it could come to this and never this quickly.

Now, after four months of conflict, the gate bristled with weapons. Gun turrets, energy lasers and an experimental link separator stuck out like the spines of a puffer fish. To the east from Rochelle's perspective, a hangar for four mecha pilots and a barracks for its pilots lay ready for any incursion from the Edge. Rochelle headed for the gate. She had to disguise her real purpose until she was certain of their readiness.

As she guided her Hunchback mecha to the gate, she studied the wormhole behind it. Twelve hundred feet high and one thousand wide, it stood out in the darkness of space like a wound. Red, purple and blue, the wormhole glowed bright enough to leave an afterimage on her sight. It wasn't a star, though. She, as well as a privileged few in the galaxy, knew that it belonged to a race of godlike insects. Were they really gods or an alien race? Nobody knew for certain.

Rochelle looked at the monitor in the Hunchback's chest when she drew nearer to the gate. The technicians would answer her soon, she hoped. She could get through this without a fight if she was lucky. She turned her attention to the wormhole, back and forth between the gash in space and the gate's guns. In a few minutes she would have reached their range. Seconds following that, the Hunchback could lock on and return fire.

State your business, a technician said.

Repeat, Thassat gate, I didn't receive your transmission, Rochelle said.

The technician mumbled. Maybe he was half asleep. What is your business in the Core, Hunchback?

I have family in Ciolani. I haven't seen them in months, Rochelle said.

Come back another time, the technician said. That's a dangerous planet to visit.

We're talking about my family, Rochelle growled. I have to see them.

The technician said something she couldn't distinguish. He had been sleeping or was under the influence of kind of intoxicant. Rochelle shouted at him to speak up. He yelped and shook out of his reverie.

What's your name? the technician said. I'll put you through the records.

Michelle Limberry, Rochelle said, using a fake name.

The technician paused and put the name through his terminal. Rochelle watched the massive wormhole lie before her, too far out of her reach to just jump into it. Months ago, if she had wanted to, she could have flown into it and transported her mecha into it before anybody could stop her. Now, the gate could shoot her down, or the pilots could man the mecha in the barracks. She knew how quickly people could leap into their frames. She'd had to herself innumerable times.

There's not much about you. No college, no job history... the technician said.

Rochelle grumbled. She should have got to him by now. I live under the radar.

You'll have to allow one of us to - the technician said.

Rochelle cut him off before he finished his sentence. She knew exactly what he was about to say. You will not investigate me. I will not allow an invasion of my privacy!

I am afraid I must insist, the technician said.

While Rochelle had hoped she could have gotten inside the gate, taken the controls and the defenses around it, the chances had heavily weighted at it coming to this. She stretched out her hands in the Hunchback's arms and its two swords appeared in the mecha's hands. The technician sputtered across the channel and he tried to call an order to the pilots.

The gate's defenses zeroed in her. The technician had as much experience as he had alertness. Rochelle moved toward the barracks and generally ignored the weapons on the gate. He'd never be able to aim every one of those weapons at the same time. The optics glowed on two of the mecha by the time she reached the hangar thirty seconds later. The remainder, a ranged Conquest model and a close combat Templar, laid in dormancy.

Rochelle kicked in the Hunchback's jet at full blast and sliced the Conquest's shoulders. While a ranged would have less importance in a battle of this sort, the Templar was a mass model and much weaker. The Hunchback's swords dug into the Conquest's shoulders, through its neck and down to its armpits. Explosions rumbled in her ears, her swords pushed against the hard armor of the Conquest and its missile launchers flew backward.

She spun around and blocked the sword of a Forbidden model. It looked like a steel demon, with crimson armor painted on its stocky limbs and red wings trailing behind it. The mecha's blue optics stared into her own. Her heart skipped a second, when she recalled the battles she'd experienced with Caspian Acratani, a master of that model's strategy. If he was here, she'd be in a truly dire situation without backup. But it couldn't be him.

Rochelle thrust and sliced at him, trying to lock swords with the pilot. He sensed her intention and the Forbidden slipped back. His wings left contrails in space, remnants of their electricity. His jets would carry the same effect, but he was too close to her for her to glimpse them. The Forbidden moved further back, so she spun around for the next attacker.

Her heel flickered with pain, like a gnat, and she kicked out without thinking about it. She caught a look at the enemy's frame when it slipped back down beneath her. It had a blocky head and a black cloak around its neck as tight as a bodysuit. She grinned, excited by the prospect of a battle with a Silhouette. She had piloted the Hunchback as a disguise. Usually she spent her time in a Silhouette frame similar to that one.

Unless they had switched to new weaponry, then, all three of her uninjured opponents battled in melee. The Templar had no option, since she'd destroyed his long range capacity. Rochelle took a breath and moved out of the gate's range. Her three enemies circled her. She had been lucky in weakening the fourth when she still had the chance.

Rochelle flexed her hands around the hilts of her swords. This wasn't her best skill but she could manage it passably, or she wouldn't have volunteered for this part of the mission. She might have anyway; she liked to take risks. Her three enemies moved eerily as one, locked their weapons into an established pattern. The Forbidden carried a sword and a pistol, the Silhouette carried at least a dozen knives and the Templar held two short swords. Rochelle studied the pistol and smiled at the sight. She might not be so overwhelmed at that.

The Forbidden moved first. Clearly, he was the leader, with a mecha like that thing. Rochelle parried his first thrust and took the second in her left side. Red warnings glowed on the readout at the direct hit. Indices scrolled down the left side of her screen. Rochelle called power to the Hunchback's shoulders and slammed into the Silhouette beneath her. She didn't know where she'd hit though it carried a loud, pleasing crunch.

The Conquest rushed at the middle of her exposed neck. She didn't have time to appreciate the damage to the Silhouette. Rochelle spun the Hunchback around, parried the blow from the Conquest and pushed one of her swords into his chest. He kicked out at her frame, spinning upside down, and the sword couldn't get a clear hit. The Conquest followed through and slammed his foot into her wrist. Her sword went flying and she cursed her inexperience.

Rochelle shoved power into the jets in the Hunchback's palms. The Forbidden moved toward the space she had vacated. She chopped at his leg with her remaining sword and took it off at the knee. The Forbidden's pilot, a dark-skinned woman with a scarred face and brown hair, appeared on her channel for a quick second, forgetting herself in her anger. She screamed. Her face contorted. The sensory link said that Rochelle had taken her leg.

Just business, Rochelle said.

The pilot goggled at her and shut off the monitor. Rochelle slipped backward, keeping out of the gate's radar, and watched a series of three mecha move in from the background of space. She frowned, wondering if they'd misinterpreted her fight or whether something had gone wrong. Rochelle moved toward the gate now, before her friends could become victim to its intact weaponry.

It's not secure! Rochelle yelled across the Daggers's channel.

Vespasian's face appeared on the monitor. He was one year older than her with a face that looked either smooth or rough depending on the lighting. He had dark purple hair and blue eyes that twinkled with mischief. We're not heading in yet. We're just coming closer. Tell us when you're ready, Psychotic.

Understood, Nerves, Rochelle said.

Streaks of light poured from the gate, in more measured amounts than she'd expected. She dodged the blasts, but she wouldn't be able to keep it up consistently, like Vespasian. She watched the Forbidden move into lead position and head toward her. Rochelle drifted toward her, pretending to be scared of her impressive movements. She couldn't tell if the Forbidden became complacent, but she had to try to confuse her.

The Forbidden flew toward Rochelle, its sword raised for a destructive hit. Rochelle raised hers in return, her eyes on the pistol in the frame's hand. She charged the Hunchback's left shoulder and knee jets. She knew this tactic from piloting a Silhouette. The energy wouldn't make contrails and wouldn't show up on sensors. But it would gather and explode at the intended time.

Rochelle's Hunchback got within inches of slamming into the Forbidden. The woman lifted her sword for a hit that in a direct confrontation would have won over the Hunchback. Rochelle kicked the energy out of the jets and moved to the right. She sliced off the Forbidden's arm, tore the pistol from its hand and sprayed the gate's weaponry full of energy bullets. Small explosions ripped along the edge of the gate, destroying dozens of guns in chain reactions.

She hadn't expected that, but she'd take it. Rochelle ducked back, the pistol aimed at the Forbidden's head, and its squad members retreated to take care of it. Rochelle spent the rest of the pistol's energy on the gate and threw it away. She moved toward the gate at full speed.

Nerves, tell me if the pilots chase me, Rochelle said.

For the moment, they're pretty stationary. You live up to your callsign, Vespasian said.

Oh, save it, Rochelle said. Technician! I know you're in there!

The technician didn't reply. Rochelle rolled her eyes and held her remaining sword above the gate like a pendulum waiting to drop.

I know you're inside. I can see you on my radar, Rochelle said, lying with the truth. Open the wormhole or I'll slice you up from out here and do it myself.

Vespasian chuckled. Rochelle glared at the gate and breathed slowly. She'd do it if she had to.

Is it open? Rochelle said.

Not yet... wait. Now it is, Vespasian said. The others are still taking care of their ally. Is it clear?

They have no ranged weapons, Rochelle said. It's clear. Go on and kick Caspian's ass.

Rochelle watched the three mecha piloted by her friends and comrades the Shadow Daggers move toward the wormhole and disappear inside its depths. When they left, the three enemies moved toward her a second time. She'd have to teach them a lesson one last time.

Chapter 2

After the Illustrious burst through the wormhole, Vespasian kept his eyes on his radar. Mazzaran had the official designation of the recon person for this op but Vespasian had too strong memories of the trip to Siarral almost two years ago. It had led to a desperate flight across the entire galaxy and one too many sneak attacks on him. He had the advantage of stealth and surprise on this op. He wielded it then too.

The technician who defended the gate wouldn't deliver a message to Caspian to warn him that three mecha had broken through to Thassat space. While Rochelle hadn't defeated the entire squad as she'd hoped, she had frightened the technician to a sufficient extent that he wouldn't attempt to fight her. Her distraction had allowed Vespasian and two Shadow Daggers to enter occupied space with full weapons, armor and an experimental new weapon to use.

A week ago, Vespasian had heard about a new fleet constructed near the wormhole and targeted it for destruction. No units had appeared on his radar yet but he would give it time. According to the spies he had sent inside the sector in the covers of merchants and recruits for Caspian's army, the fleet spread out over a range of hundreds or thousands of meters. Undoubtedly, he recognized the usual methods Vespasian used and didn't want to fall prey to them.

This time Vespasian had utilized a new strategy intended to throw Caspian off his scent as long as he was here. Before he could think of the efficacy of it, Tristessa Csaba and Mazzaran Capelli appeared in their corners of his monitor. Vespasian tightened his fists around the cords in the Illustrious's arms, in the chance they had spotted a tail.

Nerves, the wormhole is shifting, Tristessa said.

Vespasian frowned at her and relaxed his grip on the cords. What do you mean?

I mean it's changing. It turns red when a Chosen is about to move out of it or the hole intends to go active, Tristessa said.

Has it turned red? Should we be worried? Vespasian said.

Tristessa shook her head. Her brown and blond curls flew around with the movement. He had always admired her full head of hair and loved how it could move around in the pressurized environment. Her blue eyes, accentuated with black makeup, didn't show any hints of fear. She hadn't become accustomed to the Chosen bug gods. To make up for it she had a lot of courage. It might be. I can't tell for certain.

If you see anything out of the ordinary, let us know, Vespasian said. I don't want to be caught astray by one of those things again.

Mazzaran raised his head from his radar. If one of those appears in the wormhole, we'll have to wait it out or head for the Pazi star.

It depends on how well we manage this ambush, Vespasian said. We're coming closer. A few minutes and we will be on top of it. Remember your orders.

About a minute later Vespasian spotted the carrier. A third of a kilometer long from stern to stem and a fourth from the base to the highest point of the bridge, it sat moored to four artificial gravity engines. Even half finished it could present a threat from the gun mounts, rocket launchers and cannons on its exterior. It spun around like an animal on a firepit, awaiting an attack from Vespasian and the Shadow Daggers.

They were eager to oblige. In a maneuver the Daggers had practiced a dozen times, half of them with Rochelle before she had volunteered for the initial phase of the attack, they split their formation into three flanks and dove toward the carrier. To any of the skeleton crew on the ship, and also on Vespasian's radar, they looked like members of a hive mind for how well they matched each others's movements.

Vespasian had taken a straight shot through the center of the ship. Immediately, gun turrets answered him, and he spun away before they could slam into the armor of the Illustrious. He unlimbered the two rifles he had brought for the battle and dispatched the turrets. Crimson flame erupted around them. He kept moving ahead, shooting more turrets. Contrails from the jets of the Illustrious and the streaks of the energy weapons decorated the airless night.

A stray shot hit the lower right leg of the Illustrious and it glowed green. It signalled damage, though it wasn't anything to worry about at this point. He twisted his fingers around the cords, guiding the Illustrious to its targets. It angered him that he wouldn't have the capacity to destroy the entire carrier and let that rage carry him to further destruction of the ship. Dozens of turrets exploded beneath him, some of them carrying the flames inside the vessel.

By the time he reached the spot between the engines and the crew quarters, about a fourth of the way through, hundreds of guns, launchers, cannons and lasers focused on him and ignored Tristessa and Mazzaran's mecha. Vespasian had seen them through his radar. He had given them the tasks of demolishing the hangar bays and the mecha loaded inside them. If any of them had pilots, unlikely with a skeleton crew, the Daggers would quickly eliminate them.

Tristessa Csaba appeared on his monitor. She frowned and kept checking her radar screen.

Sunburn? What's your situation? Vespasian said.

Tristessa grimaced, bared her teeth and juddered against the cushion and straps in the Chaos's cockpit. It's this op, sir. Now that we're actually here, it's giving me the willies.

Vespasian tilted end over end to escape a particularly large barrage of energy bullets. He saw the Illustrious's own contrails behind him and smiled at the sight. If you had problems with it, you should have said so days ago.

Tristessa tensed and concentrated on the battle. Vespasian watched the shots pour from her rifles on his screen. Between the three of them they'd inflicted a brilliant display of color if not sound. While they might not destroy Caspian's carrier they could weaken it and set its production schedule back by weeks or months. When it calmed somewhat she could reply to him.

It's not a problem, per se, Tristessa said. It's a concern. What do you think Caspian will do when he finds out?

Vespasian hesitated. They were on a secure channel but in hostile land. He had to find the proper words that wouldn't expose his people. He'll hunt and rampage. I'm betting on a much tighter security apparatus. We'll have skirmishes around the wormhole more regularly.

Do you want that? Tristessa said.

Mazzaran appeared on the monitor beneath Tristessa on the left side. He had dark brown hair that looked almost black. He had a wicked smile on his face and though his eyes were dark they creased with his cheerful expression. The round scar around his right eye reminded Vespasian of a gunshot wound crossed with a bruise. He wore two silver earrings in his left ear, one at the bottom of the lobe and one at the top. He had started wearing them in the last two months.

He won't know where the Daggers will strike next. Right, Nerves? Mazzaran said.

Yes, that's exactly the idea, Vespasian said. That's assuming we can get out of here quietly and quickly. The Illustrious's right forearm glowed red when a large energy shell struck it. Vespasian's arm swelled with the corresponding bruise. He winced and wiggled it to weaken the pain. It didn't help. Dammit, I spoke too soon.

I'm down to twenty mecha in this hangar, Tristessa said. One gave me trouble so I brought out the laser and sheared his head straight away. I can imagine how that pilot will feel when he's conscious.

That's some brutal weaponry, Mazzaran said.

Tristessa grinned and shouted as she juddered in her cushion again. Her hair scattered across her face but she handled it with no problem. Rochelle had similar things happen with her long hair. For all of the complaints about a military force wearing their hair long and interfering with their duties, they hadn't stopped.

If you think that's insane, that's nothing, Tristessa said. Try the guns that can actually melt the surrounding steel and plastic of the cockpit.

While his soldiers compared the new developments in weaponry, Vespasian shuddered and watched the radar screen. Neither of them had thought about the burning, freezing and paralyzing that Caspian's three specialists had shown in combat. They could wound a human body and had proven to inflict the same injuries on a body through the sensory link. Most soldiers didn't like to use those weapons and they were considered non grata in warfare.

Ambushes, of course, presented another story. Tristessa had no such qualms in this battle, though she wouldn't have the stomach to continue it very long. It was part of why Caspian's vessel specialists had carried so much fear with them. Vespasian hadn't seen them in the months since Caspian had conquered the Core and couldn't imagine how much their capabilities had improved in that short time.

Out of nowhere the Illustrious got a clear view of the command deck and bridge of the unnamed carrier. While he spun around to dodge the bullets rushing at him, Vespasian fired the two dozen bullets still remaining in the rifles's charges at the bridge. A huge fireball roared into space and broke one of the four engines. The ship drifted off its support structure and went into freefall. The Chaos and Paradox appeared beside him, a stocky knifefighter in a cloak and a huge stone golem.

Vespasian hovered over the bridge and watched the carrier fall away. It would take it hours to fall out of radar coverage. Sunburn, Skulker, report.

Port hangar cleared, Skulker said. All mecha disabled and many of them completely destroyed.

Starboard hangar cleared and a fourth of the gun turrets destroyed, Tristessa said. Mission successful. She smiled at Mazzaran. I'd say it's more than successful, Nerves.

Vespasian nodded and kicked his jets into the soles of the Illustrious's feet. The Chaos and Paradox followed him. While they would usually cover his flanks, this time they flew at his sides. They had used nearly all of their ammunition and would need to protect each other if they came under attack. He hoped Rochelle had disposed of the gate's guards. In the last few kilometers to the gate, he saw blue and red dots on the radar. His heart skipped.

I see them, Nerves. They aren't members of the Chosen, Tristessa said.

Psychotic, are you receiving? Vespasian said.

Rochelle didn't answer.

Vespasian turned on the public frequency and cleared his throat. Unknown units, please identify yourselves.

I was so hoping I'd see you again, said a female voice. It's been a long time, Prince Nerves. I suppose you're a lowly nobleman anymore.

Vespasian grimaced. Low on ammunition, without Rochelle and accosted by Alanis Lithmeri. The woman always had the meanest timing in the whole galaxy. Don't got time for chitchat. I'm here on business.

Chapter 3

Yes, I had imagined that, Alanis said. Though it leads one to question what the Hell you were doing in occupied space, Nerves.

Vespasian jabbed buttons in the Illustrious's arms and gave Tristessa and Mazzaran their orders. He left them loose and open. Alanis hadn't come alone and the Daggers would need Rochelle if they were to fight her squadron back. While they scanned the vicinity with their long range radar, he would keep Alanis busy, one way or another.

You look like you're doing well for yourself, Vespasian said. By the indices I'm seeing, you've built upgrades to your Conquest.

The right side of the monitor flashed Alanis's name. Vespasian allowed her visual through. Her physical appearance hadn't changed a lot in four months. She still wore her hair in braids, had red lips with a big smile and brown eyes that on anyone else would distract him. He couldn't afford to let down his guard around Alanis Lithmeri, though. He had burn scars that had happened when he did.

Alanis frowned at him now, not too happy with him. Don't dodge my question.

Would you believe a spot of sightseeing? Vespasian said. Caspian hasn't done any better with the sector than I'd imagined. He's pretty disappointing as an architect, actually.

Alanis glared at him, her lips a tight line. Captain Nerves, you invaded Acratani space. You disrupted the Basacryne wormhole and ships are lining up to enter the sector. You're here on military matters. I can only respond in kind.

Vespasian sent a beep at the Daggers. Tristessa shook her head, still distracted with her radar, and Mazzaran showed beads of sweat on his face. He didn't look forward to a confrontation with Alanis, either, and by the search they continued, they hadn't found Rochelle. Had she remained on the Basacryne side, if Alanis was truthful about the traffic jam? That didn't strike him as very likely. She had moved through it and hidden herself in this gate's machinery.

Alanis, please, Vespasian said, faking his annoyance. You know what it takes to venture through the wormholes. We would have slammed through this gate.

Alanis quieted and brought up the radar. She looked down at it and at him a second time. She studied him and looked to someone beside her. What do you think, Firebolt? Could he have moved through both gates?

It is possible, said a female voice.

Vespasian shivered with fear and dread at the sound of Firebolt's voice. He had met her in person other times, a woman named Mistrala Ethrus. She had never had good health in the weeks he had seen her. She had thin, stringy green hair that looked ill or diseased. She had sunken blue eyes that usually happened when someone hadn't slept well in weeks. Now her voice sounded a thousand miles away, drugged or inhuman. What had happened to her in the last four months?

Alanis, aware of such things, spotted his uneasiness and smiled. I think Captain Nerves is disturbed by you, Firebolt. Should I put you on the monitor?

Vespasian accepted the visual as soon as Mistrala transmitted it. She looked a lot like she had before, the same blue eyes and green hair, but her physical appearance had collapsed like her voice. She looked like she hadn't eaten in weeks now. Her eyes wavered and she struggled to concentrate on him. It hurt to see her like that, a smart woman reduced so far. She didn't even look sad in her condition. She didn't have the strength in her to cry.

Firebolt, what the hell happened to you? Vespasian said. Did Caspian do it?

It's too complicated, Alanis said. Blame it on the vessel if you want to.

If you moved at top speed... and the technician wasn't watching... it's possible, Mistrala said.

Vespasian couldn't take his eyes off her. Who did this to you, Firebolt?

Mistrala stared at him, her eyes as wide as a drug addict's. Vespasian couldn't figure out if she even remembered him.

Are you there? Vespasian said. Remember when we met in the sun?

Mistrala shook her head. I remember. I don't feel a thing when I think of it. It was so long ago and so unimportant to me.

You asked me for help, Vespasian said.

This is getting so tedious to listen to, Alanis said. I heard what I wanted to hear. It's time we booted you away from this sector. It's not your home anymore.

Vespasian drew his lips back and showed Alanis his teeth. I never called this sector my home, Alanis. That's another jump inside the Core.

So when I claim it as my home, you shouldn't be offended? Alanis said.

Vespasian clutched at the cords in the Illustrious's arms. He wanted to fight Alanis and slam her mouth into submission but the Daggers hadn't given him the go ahead yet. Tristessa and Mazzaran concentrated on their radars and hadn't looked up in almost a minute. If he so much as said a word to them, he'd be surprised if they would answer him. He glared at Alanis and settled his lips into a grim line.

Alanis's Conquest jabbed a hand into his chest and gestured to him. She lifted her eyebrows beckoning him to make the first move. He couldn't. The Illustrious didn't have the power in it after the annihilation of the carrier to propel a direct assault. At the least, he would need the Daggers beside him. Even they might not be enough. They needed Rochelle. Where was she? The Conquest moved toward him, Firebolt to her right and the other two mecha in a square formation.

Vespasian felt sweat trickle down his forehead. I have Distress heading toward us, with Firebolt and two more. Tell me you've found Psychotic.

I haven't found any sign of her, Tristessa said. We're alone out here, Nerves. Maybe she got stuck in Basacryne sector.

Vespasian shook his head. The Illustrious squeezed between the Chaos and the Paradox. He had taken the most damage and needed the cushioning against the blow of Alanis's squad. On cue, they opened fire, and Vespasian shoved the thrust jets as high