Galactica: Book 1 - Via Lactea

 

"Harp, I was surprised Tom and Jerry were out of stasis pods so early. I thought they had two days of treatment to undergo."

"Typhoon, they spent two virtual days in the pods. Each hour spent there represented a full day of accelerated treatment. They benefited from the next generation of stasis pods we have been developing in-between red alerts, the K model. It consumes 100 times the normal energy of a stasis pod, and uses a wider bandwidth for data and control of the nanites. There are only four available so far, and we do not plan to manufacture more than a dozen, due to the power consumption."

"And Felicia released them?"

"No. The pod has an auto-release mechanism."

"I hope we still have an Imperial suite!" moaned Harold. "They had how much free time to do mischief?"

"Maybe 45 minutes, no more?"

"Forty-five minutes was more than enough for you to turn a kingdom upside-down, Harp," said Samson dramatically.

"Hey, if there was a big hole, Felicia would have told us."

"Contrary to you and Paschal, their fun is in water. The only saving thing is that we are not yet drowning. If they ever find out how to decompress the Ocean, we are doomed!"

"I do like dunking Dukes in freezing water. That was my previous signature, before the Big Bang. One little mistake, and a life of unmarred reputation gets blown out of the water!"

Just then, a commotion was heard at the entrance leading to the Bridge’s vestibule. A lot of yelling could be heard, with words being exchanged between the unexpected visitor and the Legionnaire on guard duty.

"I have had it! Get out of my way before I kick your butt!" said one voice.

That comment was followed by a whack and the sound of a body thrown violently against the bulwark.

"You do not have the clearance to get in there, much less to be on this level!" said the gruff voice of the Guard.

"I do not need a clearance! I want to talk to someone, and it is not your over-sized prick that will stop me!"

That was followed by a swish and the unmistakable noise of broken bones, accompanied by a strangled cry.

"Oh no? When I say you are not allowed in, you are not allowed in. Pick that toothpick you call a blade and leave before I show you how I mince meat!"

The last comment produced a roar from the un-welcomed guest and the sound of someone losing his breath.

"I told you I would get in there, dimwit!"

As the sound of heavy steps were heard, there was a sudden rush of racing steps and then a resounding smack that was immediately followed by the unmistakable screech of a sword leaving a scabbard quickly. Next came the resounding thunk of a blade hitting some bone on the side. Then there was a huffing sound and the noise of a body impacting a steel plate.

"You, buster, are going to spend the next year in the brig, drinking water and eating rancid bread. You are far too overweight for the grip you offer! I have never seen such a disgusting body, even in the Centurie’s showers with Beer Barrel."

"At least, I shall not have to feed all those stupid animals as if they were Royalty! I have had enough! First, it was those little brats, then it was the Humans, and then Wolves, Coyotes, and a plethora of Canines. Then came Dwarves, Fairies, Equines, Trolls, and a Sabre-tooth Snow Leopard and its family! Not content with that, they added our ancestral enemies, the Orcs, and then some other dumb arses that call themselves Goblins! And when they find the Orcs’ little Brothers, whose species should be called Demons, the trouble doubles! I have had it, I say. Throw me in that brig, I shall finally sleep rather than have nightmares wondering what other catastrophe will assail me the next day! Today was the top! I went to the freezer and found that some water had leaked from the ceiling and converted the entire walk-in into a giant ice cube! If you are so smart, arse hole, get an ice pick and take the meat out of there, I shall not! Now, where is that retirement home you call a brig? Move it! I am no longer interested in even seeing or even talking to Samson or to that upstart that thinks he is an Emperor because everyone licks his shitty arse..."

That comment brought another smack from the sword, and the noise of even more broken bones.

"You want to rest from your job? You shall after spending a couple of months in a stasis pod! I shall personally collect you at the exit from that pod and make sure you regret the freezer and the joys of an ice pick! You will lose that fatty tissue or I shall resign my commission!"

"I managed to out-run a couple of these Felines! You have nothing that can scare me after that!"

"Do not worry! Felines are nice. I am sure the new Imperial fad will do just fine: Snakes! It did work with Beer Barrel! Dispatcher! I need an emergency replacement at the Bridge Guard Station! Port him now, I am doing a delivery to the Hospital! Now, in that portal you go, you slob! Verbal command! General Hospital, Elf Section, Stasis Pod assignment desk!"

The unmistakable sound of a transfer node activating was heard from the Bridge, and then silence.

"I wonder what that was all about?" asked Samson. "I think I recognised the voice of my old Cook."

"What I want to know is why he said one of the walk-in freezers had been converted into a giant ice cube?" asked Harold. "And do you think I am an upstart, as he said?"

"Harold, do not let that arse hole’s opinion of you make you feel bad. You have more Royal prestige and poise than all of us combined!" replied Samson. Samson decided right there and then that if the Legionnaire did not hold to his intentions, he would see to it personally that the Cook regret his words. As if to reinforce the idea, Typhoon commented:

"The only reason I did not roast that Cook right now is that torching him might have started a fire. He is on my roasting list, and he does not know it yet."

"Do not eat him! I refrained from doing so because of the risk of heavy metal poisoning!" Harp said. "It is true he out-ran me, but it was so because I wanted the run of his kitchen, not his ham!"

"Excuses, excuses!" said one of Spare Ribs’ Children.

"I wonder why I taught you Magic, little pest!"

"So I could bug you!"

"Do you really think I needed you to be bugged? I have my Brothers to do that and Tom and Jerry are worth ten of us in the prank department!"

"I have sent someone to inspect the Kitchen to see where the water leak comes from," said Paschal. "Do you think Tom and Jerry could be involved?"

"How could they? The Kitchen is 12 levels below the Imperial suite..."

"Thorsten, water has a way to leak through the smallest hole. You, of all of us, should know that, given you lived for years in a mine!" Harp said.

"Alexander here! My Scouts have finished entering the cave. What about the others?"

"We are waiting on their report."

"I am moving forward to join my advanced troops. I shall lose radio contact at regular interval."

"Acknowledged. Is telepathy an option?"

"For my most trusted Officers and I, yes. However, I want to keep that card in my sleeve, should things turn sour. Tell the others to get their butt in gear. The longer this thing lasts, the higher the probability of discovery."

"Ok. Have fun with your demolition team."

"I plan to."

The other Swarms slowly percolated reports to the Bridge, Finally, every advancing force was at the same point: their Scouts were in, undetected; their demolition teams were just beyond the last lock; the Swarm Commanding Officer was on the other side with the core of his troops. Alexander had been waiting for 15 minutes when the signal he had been expecting came down the line. He moved across the last lock with several thousand Soldiers and ordered the Scouts to occupy the Insects’ communication centre and hold it at all costs. The demolition teams were next: they installed C4 at the different doors to the processing centre and moved back. The doors were expected to open regularly to let out containers and machinery, so the charges were set to trigger when they reached their maximal aperture. Everything was co-ordinated using hand signals, as the Insects moved around in the cave, unaware their minutes were counted.

"O-1 secure!" reported the Scout group charged with the occupation of the telecommunication centre.

"O-2 secure!" reported another group, telling Alexander that the mechanism in charge of controlling the lock doors was now in their hands.

"O-3 in sight of heavy weapons!" added the Legate in charge of the 1^st Infantry noted, which told everyone on the frequency the living quarters of the Insects were now ready to be shredded.

"O-4 open. Team moving in!" beginning the liberation of the Slaves by the occupation of their living quarters.

"Three seconds to fireworks!" the demolition Commander reported. Everyone hit dirt just as a series of powerful explosions rocked the cave. The sound of the explosions were still reverberating when the assault teams charged the production centre, targeting the Insects, easily recognisable with their orange space suits. Each hit was accompanied by a clearly audible pop, as the Insects exploded. A few minutes later, the heavy weapons were heard: the external lock of the Insect dwelling had opened, offering a weak point for the ballistic weapons. The destruction of the outer lock effectively imprisoned the Insects still in their living quarters, temporarily removing them from the battle.

Suddenly, a series of violent explosions was heard at the back of the building. One of the missiles had missed and hit the environmental gas reserves feeding the Insects’ living quarters with their atmosphere. The fire fed by the oxygen-rich atmosphere of the cave quickly propagated to the nearby canisters, creating additional light shows as each container rocketed up toward the ceiling to fall back on the roof of the living quarters and nearby buildings.

Alexander moved in the production centre with his assault teams. They found the place in disarray, as the Insects tried to take control of their Slaves by any means necessary. However, the Slaves fought back at every opportunity, using every tool at hand. Someone used an overhanging bucket filled with molten steel to push back a concentration of Insects from youngsters, roasting the Slavers in the process. Another took a long slice of metal just out of a badly aligned die to cut through the Insects’ space-suits. Each time an Insect exploded, it was accompanied by a spectacular bluish flame, as the atmosphere contained within the suit alighted on contact with molten metal.

"Assist to the destruction of the Insects! Protect the youngsters!" ordered Alexander. "Let the Adults fight their war! I suspect they had been holding that grudge for a damn long time from the way they are acting!"

Indeed, the Insects had grown complaisant and arrogant with their Slaves. They were taken by surprise at the ferocity of the docile workers once the cap was removed off the simmering volcano.

***

Meanwhile, on Thebes’ Bridge, Paschal talked to Harp.

"I sent back in time sensors to collect data on this new species. We need a name for them. Can you prepare a Tessaract layer for their rescue?"

"I shall do so as soon as we have a complete history of their weather pattern and what they need to survive."

"Ok. I shall have that at prime tomorrow. AI-4 is receiving meteorological history and AI-3 is collecting ecosystem data, including genetic mappings of extinct animals and plants. AI-2 is working on collecting cultural data."

"I wonder how long this assault will last?"

"It will not be long, from Alexander’s last report. The Insects were taken by surprise and most of their forces are cornered in their living quarters, unable to escape through the broken airlock. They will not live long with the destruction of their atmospheric reserves."

"I have a report for Paschal from a repair team in... the Kitchen?" wondered Annabelle as she had taken Iridia’s station while the Princess went to take care of her child.

"Transfer it to Engineering."

As he listened to the report, Paschal kept whistling, shocked, and getting glances from Timor and Harp.

"Ok. Have a team of level 6 Mages track down the infiltration and repair the leak. No need? Why is that so? What? Holy shit! How extensive is the damage?" Another series of expletives followed the report. "I see. Have the water removed and recycled. Use Magic to dry up what is left, and send Fairies in the narrow passages. We have a Cohort of Magical Fairies in the 6^th Swarm. Put them to work. Keep me posted! Owls? Come on, get out of fiction! Use the internal communication system."

"What is up?" asked Timor with dread.

"You can look worried, Timor! Tom and Jerry converted the Imperial bathroom into a swimming pool, filling it to half-height with water on a continuous basis. Unfortunately, there were some minor cracks between tiles and the water leaked down, infiltrating everything for 12 levels before finding its way to the freezer and solidifying. To compound things, someone opened the door, which they had sealed, and flooded the Imperial living room with several inches of water that soaked the carpet, dripped down through cracks into level 11, and so forth. Then they left the bathroom without closing the faucets thus feeding the disaster even more. I have teams drying up everything as quickly as possible. In all 12 levels have their ceiling leaking in an area of about 600 square yards, pissing water from every fissure. I have just mobilised the Fairies to explore conduits to discover how far this went. Just about every portal within the area is deactivated due to electrical shorts. You do know the nursery is on level 11? The Kids just added to the mess by converting wet floors into skating rinks with wet socks! The Nannies were too busy trying to control the chaos to call for help."

"You say Tom and Jerry did all that?" asked Timor, totally baffled by the extent of the damage.

"If you know anyone else with long black silky hair that curls when it is wet, tell me! I have yet to meet them."

"But Felicia would have told us of this, surely?" wondered Harp.

"Probably not," said Greywolf who had been listening from the surface, "because when she has an idea in her head, she is single-minded. The bathroom might as well have been as dry as the Sahara for all she cared."

"Let the maintenance crew deal with it. They spend way too much time playing cards. They will finally have something to do," said Harold, barely holding a serious face at the image the story produced in his mind. "Harp, are you sure you did not Father these two disasters?"

"I am beginning to have my doubts."

"You are well on your way to losing your envious title of King Prankster."

"I did not know it was an elected office. Do not ever tell them that or we might not survive."

"One thing I want done is crack search. This is a space ship, and if we have cracks, it means when we do need to seal a segment for one reason or another, we might not succeed," said Paschal. "Use Mages. Thorsten? Would you lead that task force and train them properly in the task of detecting fissures magically?"

"Sure. I have no major plans for the foreseeable future. My next turn of duty on one of the Bridges is in a month. I will do so as soon as this shift is over."

"Use hands on training. The College is once again overcrowded," said Harp.

"OK. Given the watery issue and the fascination Tom and Jerry have with water, I shall start with the Imperial en-suites. Thebes?"

"Yes?"

"Have you noticed a recrudescence of malfunctions in internal circuitry?"

"Yes. But the crews have been keeping up. I figured the repeated stresses imposed on my body were at fault."

"OK. Do a general diagnostic of all internals and report all faults by frequency and density of fault points. The first statistic will tell us what is the most sensitive measure of structural damage and the second where the structure needs to be verified in priority."

"Expect the results at your fingertips by the end of the shift. I shall repeat the porting test to verify if any more life-form sensor have been disabled."

***

The shift was at its end when Alexander’s last report came in.

"We have locked in whatever Insects there was. We are now in the process of assisting the natives in regaining their homeland. Do you have a tessaract ready for relocation?"

"I worked on setting one up. It is compressed by a factor of nine. I am waiting on Paschal’s meteorological study to determine the long-term cycles but we do not need that information to activate it. Have you gained the ability to exchange?"

"I am using mime to do so currently. I shall have verbal contact as soon as I have downloaded their language by picking their brain frequency. It is currently slow but seems to be changing frequency rapidly, much like a rotating engine picking speed. This is why I have issues."

"I can explain the phenomenon. The species enters hibernation and stays that way for around ten Earth years, matching the time the planet is moving out of the green belt and further out in space; then when the planet is closing in on the Primary, the species wakes up. The planet is currently just entering the green belt and should stay in it 5,2 Earth years. During its journey, the water first solidifies into ice, then the oxygen liquifies and covers the planet with a thin layer. On the way to the star, the process reverts with oxygen sublimating, and, as we are now seeing, liberating the ice from its grip. In a month or so, the water itself will melt, giving life another boost and time to accumulate reserves."

"That is an interesting cycle, Enron. I see no reason why I could not let them live in that cycle."

"It also explains why this species fell prey to the Insects so easily. The Insects can survive at much lower temperature and they breached the caves to enslave their occupants some 60,000 orbits ago. It is no wonder there are so many Insect space ships around. Once they had found the caves, they put their occupants to work for them. What hurts me most is that the Insects’ actions have reduced the native population to a mere shadow of its former glory. Before then, the natives were a hundred times more numerous and occupied quite a few now abandoned caves for hibernation, built and maintained surface structures for the short time they could be topside and grew enough food for everyone. The Insects have been starving their slaves, forcing them to eat each other rather than farm the land to grow food and stock reserves."

"The more I learn about the Insects, Paschal, the less I regret we exterminated them in their homeland," Harold replied.

"Alexander here! I have contact! I repeat, I have contact! They are worried about their farms topside. I told them we saw no surviving structures up except the launchers. It appears it is they that built these launchers under constraint for the Insects."

"Good job, Son. Did they want to go topside? It is still mightily cold!"

"I offered, but they said they no longer have proper... clothing... for that. The Insects destroyed every shred of clothing to force them to stay in the caves as long as possible. They now can only go harvest at the high of Summer, and only when the Insects themselves can no longer come on their planet because it is too hot."

"I wonder how they keep track of their history?"

"I asked myself the same question, Dad. It is oral history only. The Insects destroyed every bit and trace of their culture. They have lost much, including how long this has been going on. I told them what Paschal learned, but that number means nothing to them."

"Tell them we are in the process of eradicating the Insects off their homeland."

"I told them so, and asked if they had any map of lost caves. They do not understand the notion of map."

"I am currently backtracking in time. I shall have such a map shortly. Why do you need it?"

"My Scouts found out that there are deep, long, tunnels leading away in all directions from this cave. We might be able to progress a lot faster to help the other currently inhabited caves if we had access to what looks like some form of transit system."

"That is a good idea, Alexander. I shall forward that information to the other Swarms. It would do good not to miss such an opportunity," replied Sitar.

"Should I tell them of the offer to be transported aboard Thebes?"

"Not yet, Alexander. They must trust us first. With 60,000 years of bad experience with the Insects, we have a steep slope to climb."

"All right, Dad. By the way, the natives did not know of the tunnels except as fables. Alexander out."

"Have we had preliminary reports from the other Swarms?" Typhoon asked Iridia.

"No. I wonder why this is so."

"I wonder too. Manasa? Take a Dragon Legion down."

"At your command, my King!"

"Objective: assess why we have had no intermediate report. If necessary, assist the Swarms. Divide your forces in three Army groups. Leave a backup Army on transport deck as a back up. Paschal? How far are you from completing the atmospheric fighters?"

"I have a prototype. It can be dropped from orbit and do a re-entry at Match 25. Its autonomy is limited to a measly 16,000 miles. It currently is designed to carry 50 Mark-25 low-power photon torpedoes with a range of 50,000 miles."

"That is too bad. I think we need some. Why is the autonomy so limited?"

"The engine is an energy Hog."

"Ok. We shall wait."

***

"Captain?"

"Yes, Iridia?"

"Alexander reports he will leave a Legion behind and proceed to the next objective. Manasa just called. The second in command of Enron’s Swarm finally reported. Apparently, one of the repeaters failed, and they had to test each one to find the culprit."

"What about the other two Swarms?"

"Manasa is moving toward their location by porting. We should have a report in a few minutes."

"Fine. I need to feed. I shall be in the Mess Hall for half an hour. Tell Greywolf as well as Silver Moon I expect them to be out of the caves shortly. We are running late. When Enron shows up on the Bridge, give him this PADD. He has to return bottom-side to kick the butt of his second in command."

"Ok."

"Harold, would you accompany me to the Mess Hall? We need to talk. Sitar? Come with us too."

The three left the Bridge with the Gold Dragon Boy and walked briskly to the Mess Hall. Once everyone was sitting in front of a copious lunch, Typhoon scratched his head.

"I think we can no longer delay the cleanup of the traitor section, my Emperor. I need the Units currently held back to secure Thebes. These jerks are mobilising an entire swarm just to make sure they do not try escaping by breaking out of the segments we pushed them in."

"I wonder who we could put in charge of this cleanup? After all, we plan to use it as an exercise for those that do not have Magic, yet put to shame the slackers," replied Harold, as he watched Samson make his way to their table. The Elf looked tired and exhausted, with black sagging bags under his now dull eyes.

"Samson? What is up?" asked a concerned Sitar as he too took in the poor condition of the Elf.

"I am feeling my age, young Atlantean, and I am glad I passed the crown to Enron so many years ago. I doubt I would have held up to the stress. My body calls for sleep."

"I understand."

"No, you do not. My body will let go suddenly, and I will fall into the next cycle."

"You mean you are feeling your death?" asked an alarmed Emperor.

"Exactly that, Harold."

«Paschal! Report to the Mess Hall!»

«Coming! What is the issue?»

«Samson is feeling his death is near!»

Barely had the thought left Sitar that Paschal popped into the Hall, accompanied by a concerned Harp.

"Hey Grandpa! I hear you are feeling under the weather today?"

"Yes. I have only a few days left to live."

"In that body, you mean. Remember, you have a spare body held in stasis. Come along, Grandpa, it is time for the transfer. Do you want to see your new body before we do the transfer?"

"That would be nice."

"It has some enhancements over this one. Your magical core is trice what it was. You will not need to recapture genetic material, since we also transferred the maps. We even added our own collections. You will have over 6,500 maps in storage, ready to use for a shape shifting. And it is young. You will be about 200 years older than Enron."

"Ok. Where is it located?"

"In R1, Royal Pod 2. Pod 1 is for Dad’s body. Come on. I do not want to miss the last mental map before the transfer."

"Ok. Help me stand!"

"Wow, you are more advanced than even I thought if you need help. Paschal, help Grandpa reach the portal, and I shall go activate it with the override code."

Paschal took hold of Samson and lifted him in his arms while Harp ran to the nearest portal to enter a long series of numbers. After authenticating the sender, the portal stood at the ready until Paschal managed to reach the entrance with his fragile cargo. After a nod, Harp activated the port.

"Well, that is a shocker. I wonder how Bjorn is holding?"

"He has a smaller magical core than Samson, Dad, but he is younger by a far shot. Nonetheless, I think it is also time we give him his spare body. Thebes? Locate Bjorn."

"Bjorn is currently resting in his personal suite."

"Establish contact via internal communications."

"Contact. Awaiting acknowledgement."

Far above the Mess Hall, Bjorn was awoken by a persistent beeping sound. He grumbled loudly, wondering what was that irritating sound and who or what could be making it. Finally opening his eyes, he saw one of his far walls flash each time the beep was heard.

"What the Hell?"

"It is not Hell, it is a request to answer a call from Prince Sitar, Troll King Father."

"Oh bugger! Can I never rest?"

"You slept for 17 consecutive hours, Bjorn. Your heart beat is irregular, your blood pressure is falling. Do not move, just talk. I shall amplify your voice so the Prince can hear you."

"Sitar? What can I do for you?"

"Can I visit you? From what the Artificial Intelligence reported, you will be interested."

"I feel so tired. Do you mind if I receive you in bed?"

"As long as you do not ask me to share!" smirked the Prince, as Bjorn turned red.

"You would be my death. Come in."

Sitar quickly ported to Bjorn’s private quarters and found the old Troll pretty much turning grey. Time and long years of privation had taken their toll.

"I see the situation is worse than I thought. And your mate is not doing much better. Bjorn, we are taking you to the Imperial stasis pods."

"I hate them, and you know it!"

"I know, but this is so you can see your new body and get transferred into it. Harp and Paschal are already down there. Can you stand up?"

"I do not know. I have been unable to hold food for the last three days, and I feel weak."

"Ok. Levitation is in order. Given your size, Bjorn, even if you look like a child compared to Timor, you are still too heavy for raw muscles. Let me see... We shall be three being ported: you, your wife, and I. Given the situation I shall port you to your Husband’s couch and then lift the bed to the portal entrance. You will have to help me to get you inside."

The Female Troll found herself in her Husband’s bed in the blink of an eye. Then the mattress acted like a magic carpet and flew around the suite under Sitar’s fine control to reach the private quarter’s portal. Sitar then ported the lady on the floor of the portal from the bed and repeated the same with Bjorn. Once assured everyone was properly placed, Sitar entered the emergency override to bring the two agonising Trolls to the Royal pods room.

Meanwhile, Samson contemplated the pulsating Crystal that fed the Imperial pod room with fascination.

"Everything is ready, Samson. Given how you are feeling, I shall port you to that biobed where you will be put to deep sleep by means of that soma unit. As soon as you enter deep sleep, the mental map is taken repeatedly and then cross-checked for consistency. Once that criteria is met, the map is rewired into the clone’s body, and your core identity is transferred so you wake up in a new body. Once that process is validated, your old body is put to death."

"Ok. I feel so tired..."

Paschal ported Samson to the biobed while Harp did the last adjustments. Once everything reported functioning within parameters, Harp placed the soma unit on Samson’s temples, and activated them. A few minutes later, Samson was asleep.

"We only need to wait for the brain activity to enter Delta sleep and we transfer the map to holographic storage," commented Paschal. He was surprised to hear Sitar’s voice calling from the portal.

"Hey guys, if you have a minute, I need help!"

Harp ran to the portal to find Sitar trying to move Bjorn’s Wife out of the portal. The old Female Troll had collapsed across the door and blocked the passage.

"I see the problem! Bridge! Harp here! Hold to any teleportation of Thebes until I tell you it is okay!"

"Acknowledged!"

"Let us port her across to that biobed. What happened?"

"After you left, we discussed the issue and Dad wondered how the two oldest Trolls were doing. I decided to go visit them. It had been several days since we had seen them and I was shocked by what I observed. Then I remembered we never did talk to them about their alternate bodies. Apparently, Bjorn’s mistreatment by that Duke covered more than his Son Timor. We did do a check-up at the time, but never did do follow-ups. We were rather busy, if you remember!"

"Yes, making crowned heads pollute rivers..." snickered Harp. "She looks terrible. She has a lot of bald spots, like her hair fell off. I wonder if she does not suffer from pellagra. Anyway, with a new body, old diseases will stay behind."

"You should see Bjorn. His red hair has turned white at the muzzle, and his eyes are dull. It is more than time they both get a new body. Should we tell Timor about the upcoming body change for his parents?"

"No. Let us surprise him. Anyway, Timor is busy and I do not want to distract him."

"Have you visited the stasis pod containing Nestor’s new body?"

"No. It is still a long way off to release. Nestor’s Magic core was badly damaged during his ordeal. I have set the reconstruction parameters so he will have a M-1 magical core, a factor above his original M-2. Anyway, from what I read of the reports, he is still deep in psychological treatment. What he suffered was the straw that broke the Camel’s back."

"We are ready to transfer Samson’s mental map to his new body. The soul portal is set and activating." mentioned Paschal, that had kept an eye on their first customer.

"Ok. The mental map is consistent, the cross-checking indicates optimal duplication. Transfer!" said Harp.

"Transfer beginning! Estimated time to completion: three minutes."

"I have finished setting up Bjorn. The soma unit is activated. I will move to prepare his Wife." Sitar commented while working on the two other biobeds.

"We are one minute to completion of Samson’s mental map transfer, Paschal!"

"All right! I am triggering the soul transfer! It should be done when the mental map copy is complete."

"Harp? The biobed for Bjorn is beeping a red alert. He is having a heart attack! He needs immediate transfer to a stasis pod!"

"Ok. Activating stasis pod 19, just behind you. Port him in it, and press the red button. It will flood the pod with regenerative fluid and nanites."

"Done! The nanites are attacking the clot. It should be cleared in a minute. He has entered deep coma."

"Initiate mental map duplication! Triple the oxygen level in the regeneration fluid."

"Ok. The Female’s biobed reports she is in D sleep. I am initiating the mapping."

"It was minus one for Bjorn, Sitar. Had you not paid him a visit, we would have found him dead. What I do not understand is why his Wife is in a similar state of decrepitude."

"That is a good question, Harp. I think we need to talk to Timor. Some aspects of Troll society still evade us."

***

In the Mess Hall, Typhoon and Harold were deep in discussion as to how to proceed with the elimination of the foresworn population.

"My issue is who should command the Swarm?" asked Harold.

"I do not think we need to involve the Swarm as a whole, my Lord. We need only use about five Legions. I know Ian has a teeth against them, so I suggest he gets involved somehow. However, I do not think he would appreciate being in command. He wants to be involved at a more personal level, given they represent the main cause of Nestor’s current situation."

"Knowing him, he needs to change his name to blood and guts."

"Do you think we could use this as a training campaign for a few of our green troops?"

"That would be nice. Thebes? Do we have enough green troops?"

"We have more than enough, your Highness. However, there are a dozen Centuries without proper command structure. We are low on Officers."

"What do you suggest?"

"Put five under new command, Sire. And promote seven Decurions to Centurion level."

"New command, Thebes? Why am I having a strange feeling?"

"Probably because you are gaining another level of Magic, called intuition. I suggest we put Mark, Ovid and Zen in command of a Centurie. I also, (gulp), suggest we put Tom and Jerry in command of one."

"I understand the first three. They have shown seriousness and maturity, but the other two?"

"I think Tom and Jerry will surprise us. They probably act childishly because we expect them to behave that way. They play the part, so to speak."

"Ok. So be it. Do the assignment changes, notify them I will meet them in the Throne Room at vespers."

"What about Ian?" asked Typhoon. "He is still assigned to the Bridge crew."

"Reassign him to infiltration and gutting, Typhoon. You are still Captain until this crisis is over."

"He will be happy. I think he has been pulling at the bits for the past few weeks. Thebes, notify Ian of his new assignment."

"We deal with the buggers at matins. They will be taken by surprise. Thebes, no warning to the green troops but do warn our seasoned slackers. I want them to have trouble finding excuses for their lack of preparedness."

"You, Sire, are devilish."

"I know."

"Let us move back to the Bridge, we are due," commented Typhoon.

***

On the planet’s surface, Alexander moved back to the surface. He disposed his units so they could begin their expansion and progress toward their new objectives. He reserved the 10^th Army to occupy the newly found tunnels and explore them.

"Your role is to validate our hypothesis that these tunnels were transport tunnels. If you reach another underground city, or any other sort of establishment during your exploration, forward the information to Thebes, which will relay it to us."

"Should we occupy the city?"

"No. Stay hidden, but be ready to assist when we do assault it from the surface."

"What about their mining installations?"

"That is more problematic. From what I have been told by the natives, the Insects rarely go down in the mines. It is way too hot for them. This is to our advantage. The mines extend several hundred miles around the city, almost to the magma. This is the most extensive mining I have ever heard of. The natural resources of this planet have been harvested almost to the limit."

"Should we explore the mines?"

"No. We do not have enough personnel to do so safely. And I felt some reticence from the natives. I suspect they are double-crossing the Insects. We need to gain their trust. If you find anything special in the tunnels, call it to their attention, but under no circumstances are you to touch anything, is that clear?"

"Yes, your Highness. Have you found a name for them?"

"They call themselves The Ones. We shall not go far with that label. I have given thought to the question, but I need to consult with the family. For now, let us stay with the natives."

"Alexander, what is the situation?" asked Typhoon as he sat in the Captain’s chair.

"We are moving out. What about the other Swarms?"

"Enron is back down and should be moving out shortly as well. Greywolf left a few minutes ago and Silver Moon is in the process of distributing tasks. He is at the surface."

"What is your ETA to your next targets?" asked Rockhook.

"One hour 45 minutes to reach both. Typhoon, can you do a radar scan of the planet?"

"It is done. Swiss cheese probably would be envious of the planet. Beware of some areas. I think they are unstable."

"Transfer the data to my command Spider."

"Ok. Do you think you will need our assistance?"

"No. Why?"

"I am leaving a Legion in orbit and porting Thebes to that other star. I do not want to delay further the assistance to the Marsupials."

"Just port the 5^th Swarm on the surface at the south pole. We may call on it should issues arise."

"OK. Thebes? You heard? Implement!"

"See you in a few days!"

"Good luck!"

A few minutes later, after the 5^th Swarm had been moved to its staging area, Thebes accelerated and left orbit to head to the Marsupials’ home world.

"Harp? Can we port? I am leaving orbit."

"Yes. We are done. Samson’s transfer just completed the soul bonding to the memory banks. We shall leave him rest for 24 hours. Sitar activated the dissolution of the old body. I am currently working on Bjorn. He died on us. His transfer should complete just about now. Ah, here is the beep. Paschal is beginning Bjorn’s Wife now."

"Ok. Join us on the Bridge as soon as possible. We are activating Operation Clean-up."

"Is Ian informed?"

"He knows he has a change of assignment. That is it."

"Sitar is returning to the Bridge now. Bjorn’s soul transfer is confirmed and consolidated. Paschal is working on the memory map of our last client. I shall join you in five minutes, after a detour to Nestor’s pod and check on him. Paschal is leaving for the Bridge a minute behind Sitar."

"Ok."

***

Vespers was on Thebes and the Imperial Table was almost full. Felicia was accompanying the team that had accompanied her to the Gold Pyramid. Tom and Jerry were as boisterous as ever, much to the amusement of the Mages.

"As soon as everyone is eating, snap a bubble of silence around our table, Harp. We need to confer."

"Ok, Dad."

After the last Centurie sat at their assigned table and the usual procession of reports from the Centurions finished, Harp snapped his fingers and a wall of silence descended on the Imperial table.

"I always wondered why you had them report before we ate," said Bushtail Fox, "but I finally figured it out! They are so hungry they cut to the chase and focus on the essentials; had they full stomachs, we might well need to sleep on the bench!"

Harold exploded in laughter at Bushtail Fox’s comment.

"The ultimate secret to effective management is out. Always ask for reports on empty bellies!"

After a lot of ribbing and laughing, everyone turned to Harold expectantly.

"I see I can not escape my own rules. Operation Clean-up will start in six hours. I have placed on the table the assignments to deal with the oath betrayers. In short, there are 24 Centuries involved. Twelve of them are green, and 12e w are seasoned slackers, the worst of the worst. The slackers just received their new assignments, five hours ahead of the greens. Something tells me they will not be ready on time. Sitar, you deal with the slackers when they show their lack of readiness. Mouth of Thunder is your assigned second in command. I know, he is not even a Centurion, but I do not give a damn about protocols and proper rank and file promotions. He has shown his worth previously in these situations."

Sitar had been reading the list of seasoned units being called to duty and whistled.

"You collected the garbage dumps or what? From these reports, I am surprised they know how to walk!"

"No, it is the old Crowns that lead these Units, Son. I think Enron had it right when he told Archduchess Diane he was considering beheading every heavy-metal head in the Elvin Kingdom. Some believe we are at peace and it is life as usual. Kick them into next week."

"I notice there are no human units from the old Atlanticus Kingdom."

"That is due to a number of factors. King Jefferson dissolved all structures related to his court. That, in turn, produced a forest of stakes adorned with heads. Only a few survived his method. He then dissolved all military and police units, and rebuilt them from scrap. That too produced a collection of freshly cut meat logs. That Kid can be as decisive as you Boys when he gets pissed. He is truly your Brother, in action if not in blood."

"I do not see where I am assigned?" asked Ian, frustrated after reading the papers at hand from one end of the pile to the other several times.

"You, Son, are assigned to an infiltration unit."

"Oh? Which one?"

"The Ian All Hell Breaks Loose Unit."

"I do not see that in the Units list scroll?"

"Son, you are let loose in there. Do as you wish, do as much damage as you wish, by any means you wish. The only thing I ask is that Thebes survive and that Mark and Ovid are left the pleasure of dealing with their Nemesis."

"Yes! Vengeance is mine! When do I move in?"

"At the same time as the others."

Sitar looked at the list of implicated Units and noted the discrepancy.

"Hey! Where are the greens?"

"Oh! I forgot to distribute that other pile. My bad!" said Harold.

As the different units were identified and their command structure came to the attention of the other members of the Imperial family, things gradually quieted down around the table. Finally, Harp looked at his Dad, blinking rapidly.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"What idea, Son?"

"Putting Ovid, Mark and Zen in command of a Centurie?"

"Harp, remember when you were in command for the first time? You were four, and you trounced that Devil Spawn so badly he never had a chance. You did well then; I see no reason why they would do worse."

"He is right, Harp. We learned by getting our hands dirty. They will do the same," said Paschal as he looked at the last two sheets and bleaching to the point Harp got worried. "Dad! You can not be serious!"

"About what, Son?"

"About these two tornadoes commanding a Centurie, that is what!"

"What are you talking about?" asked Sitar, while he looked at the last two sheets in the pile while taking a sip of orange juice, which promptly left by the nose after a violent cough shook his body up. Sitar wiped his eyes clear of tears and read again. Tom and Jerry would command a Centurie? What kind of deadly joke was that?

Harp and Paschal read the two sheets and strangled on their own saliva as the name of the Centurions came into focus.

"Dad! Do you think we can sacrifice 200 or so men?"

"Sitar, they come with Typhoon’s recommendation. His idea is that they act the way we expect them to behave. With this responsibility, they will be forced to show their cards. And I happen to agree. Did you know these two tumbleweeds flooded 12 floors of Thebes to create a swimming pool in their en-suite? It is time they are given something to do that will channel their creativity. War is one such endeavour that requires the spirit of a first-class prankster. Harp has proven his worth day in day out and he was one little Devil that gave Samson, and the Elvin Cook, their fair share of white hairs."

"Seen in that perspective, you may be right. It is worth a try."

Tom and Jerry were busy feeding their voracious appetite with a garden cocktail of vegetables and fruits along with a profusion of nuts. The others around the table grew silent, watching them eat. It took ten minutes for Jerry to realise it was totally silent around the table. He looked up from his ever-replenished food bowl to see everyone eye his Brother and himself. After taking a huge gulp of tomato juice to wash down his last mouthful, he looked at the people at the table individually.

"Did we do anything wrong?" he asked worriedly as he touched Jerry to call his attention to the strange behaviour of those at the table.

"Oh, nothing, really," replied Harold. "You just flooded 12 floors with your latest water sport. I shall not yell at you for what is done is done and it allowed us to reveal structural flaws in Thebes that might have gone unnoticed until it was too late do do anything about them."

"Oh..."

"Yes, oh. So I decided to promote you both to Centurions. You take your command an hour before matins and you get your assignments then."

Tom and Jerry looked at each other, totally shocked. Jerry began crying in earnest, hugging to Tom for dear life. Tom tried to hold back his tears but could not do so successfully.

"What did we do to get that punishment?" he asked between hiccups.

"What you did is simple. You proved to us you had the spirit to lead a unit to war and succeed. The number of successful pranks you pulled over the years has brought to us the fact that you would do good Officers, with a lot of dirty tricks up your sleeves to defeat our enemy. You will be presented to your unit in an hour and you will sleep in the barracks for tonight. These are green troops, Boys. Train them to your standards of prankishness. They will constitute the core of the next generation of Officers."

"But I do not want to sleep away from Tom!"

"Who said you need to? Thebes, merge the two barracks."

"It shall be done in an hour."

"There are your commissions, Boys. As soon as we leave the table report to your respective Units and take command."

"Thebes? Can you do the same for our Units?" asked Ovid. "I agree with Jerry. Once you learn to nest, it becomes impossible to sleep without being in one."

"Sure. The same timetable applies, Ovid."

"How did Samson’s transfer go?" asked Harold once the paperwork was out of the way.

"For him, it went okay. We needed to do emergency procedures on Bjorn. He had a heart attack. Timor, that brings back to mind a question I had while dealing with your parents."

"Yes?"

"How come they seem to age at the same rate? I know your Mom is at least five years younger than your Dad, yet she was near death while we treated him."

"My parents are bonded much like you are with your brothers and your respective Dragons. Mom fed life force to sustain Dad, thus degrading faster than she normally would."

"Does this require a special ritual?"

"Yes. I am bonded to my Dragon, but I have not bonded with any member of my species like Mom and Dad did. My duty to insure the maximum diversity of our species precludes such a bonding. I must stud as many Females as I can. But my bonding with Iridia will feed her my vital force, should she ever fall sick or get hurt."

"Iridia, how are you holding in face of Timor’s duty to his species?"

"I am fine, my Lord. It is the ransom of unity in Thebes. I personally wish I could do more, but Female Fairies are fertile only once every two years, and Timor has asked we make a sibling to our Son."

"It is funny no Troll has asked for the ritual."

"I suspect they all want to do their part in insuring a cohesive society. Many Female Trolls have borne Children of other species for that purpose, and just about every Male has sowed his seeds across the other species available for mating. We still grow in numbers as Trolls, since quintuplets are now the rule. The little tykes are all magical and grow fast. They too begin early their exploration of other species and themselves. You said something that bugs me. What happened to my parents?"

"Bjorn died and his mental map and soul got transferred in a new body. Your Mother was not far behind. Is that normal?"

"Given their bonding, yes. Where are they?"

"They are in the Imperial stasis pods array near Crystal One, at the core of Thebes. They will be out of there tomorrow at around sext."

"Can I go see them?"

"You could, but I suggest you wait until they walk up on you. Do act surprised when they show up. They will look just about your age."

"Okay. Err..."

"If you want to know if you will need to return the Crown of the Trolls to your Dad, Timor, the answer is no. He will retain his position at the Privy Council and continue to inform us of the Trolls’ positions on things that concern them, like he has done over the years. This goes for Samson as well, Enron. You need not worry about the Crown of the Elves."

"I am not worried, Harold. I am considering doing the trick Dad did on me to him!"

"You, young Elf, have been keeping company to my terrors for too long. Do not forget I may and I shall refuse your resignation, Enron. You have been doing a remarkable job, and your Dad is rendering immense services to the Empire sitting on the Privy Council, so remove that smirk off your face!"

"I am not smirking, I am pouting!"

"If you say so. Are there any other points? Viola, Son, you are to keep an eye on the other green units. I trust Tom, Jerry, Mark, Ovid and Zen with theirs, but I need an expert’s eye on the other Units. Do not intervene unless you feel the commanding Centurions are committing an irreparable strategic mistake."

"Ok."

"Harp, dissolve the bubble. Guys, move to your units."

The disappearance of the soundproof bubble revealed how noisy the Mess Hall was in its best days.

"I wonder how come we do not get deaf," moaned Annabelle.

"I was holding the same thought, my Queen," replied Blackie Dog.

"Do you like shape-shifting?"

"It has its advantages. I swim much better as a Dolphin than as a Dog. And I do like flying. It is such a thrill. I shall never regret taking Harp on his offer to rebuild my body and adding a powerful magical core to it. I can not believe I lived 16 years without those capacities. Cleopatra is undergoing the procedure now. She was due. She had been sick a lot lately, and her repeated bearing of Pups had tired her. I can barely wait to take her out on her first flight! It will be like our first date!"

The others smiled at the image and began dispersing to return to their tasks.