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Here is the next chapter installment for the Silent Guardians series. Took some time to clean up the dialog a bit, and smooth out the flow of the plot. I have to give thanks to Golden Fox for helping me tweak the chapter. In the end this segment proved quite difficult to write as a whole.

As always, I enjoyed writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading...

For Reference:

Kyree (key ree): anthromorph wolf-like race

Kenseng (ken sang): anthromorph tiger-like race

Arastos (a rest tos): alien starship http://www.sofurry.com/page/248059

Arastos Crew:

Kanolos (ka no loss): male kyree, starship helmsman, mated to Riyla

Riyla (ri la): female kyree, starship captain, mated to Kanolos

Shyla (shy la): female kenseng, starship tactical officer/cook, mated to Yanashi

Yanashi (yana she): female kyree, starship tactical officer/physician, mated to Shyla

Eriras (ear rass): female kenseng, starship engineer, mated to Taylo

Taylo (tay low): male kenseng, starship engineer, mated to Eriras

Lumina (loo men na): holographic female kyree construct, starship supporting A.I.

Keith (key th): male human, human ambassador

Territory Map Diagram: http://www.sofurry.com/page/222716/

Allies and Enemies

Written by: Spudz

Across the ceiling, lights painted the living quarters in swaths of shadowy cobalt blue, the various furniture pieces situated about only just visible to the space's occupants in an eerie backdrop of unfamiliarity. Silence hung heavily in the air, smothering the human tenants who, for the moment, called this alien room their home. The feeling of utter hopelessness weighed profoundly as each individual endeavored to comprehend the grim situation at hand.

Sleep had not come easily to President Schrader, not since the frightening attack intended to capture or possibly kill him. Not 12 hours ago, he had stood prominently as the figurehead of his country, a proud and virtuous leader who had sworn to protect his citizens. Oh, how fate could be so cruel, having now reduced the Chief Executive into a lowly broken man sitting sullenly on the side of a bed... a helpless pawn in a dangerous game of chess.

Schrader's suit, once a simple yet influential symbol of the President's power, was now smothered with dirt and grime, the clothing no longer appropriate to adorn a man of political authority. He had been unable to tidy his appearance, resulting in a swath of beard growth under his chin that matched the man's thick head of rapidly graying hair. However, his scruffy appearance was forgotten as the President resigned himself to his dismal thoughts.

What terrible fate was befalling his country? Were the alien aggressors systematically purging Earth of all human life? Would the military be capable of fighting back? The questions nagged at Schrader's awareness relentlessly, plaguing his mind as he stared hollowly at the carpet-like material of the floor in silence.

For the moment at least, the President was safe. Only the night prior he had been hurriedly whisked away by a small contingent of strange alien soldiers, narrowly avoiding capture at the hands of a hostile assault team. Now he found himself stuck aboard a starship, the very same vessel that had appeared roughly a week ago and surely instigated this whole horrible mess. At least he wasn't the only human currently confined to the dismal room.

As it turned out, four of the Commander's Secret Service detail remained faithfully at Schrader's side. They had been the lucky few who had managed to escape the merciless grasp of death, which had reached out and taken the lives of so many dedicated men and women. Their sacrifice was righteously noble, and had helped Schrader escape to fight his war another day. If the President ever made it out of this hellish situation alive, he would make damned sure to personally thank each and every family of the individuals that had fallen to save him.

At the moment Bill Dublin, President Schrader's personal head agent, stood along the outside bulkhead of the quarters, leaning a hand against the nearby wall while he gazed thoughtfully out the large window of the room. The agent's figure was prominently backlit by the soft light filtering through the reinforced glass from the murky depths of the Chesapeake Bay, as he quietly came to terms with the dismal circumstances. Meanwhile the other three agents stood at random around the living quarters, each contributing to the deafening silence that gripped the room.

They had all tried to sleep over the past few hours, but that had proven a futile effort for everyone. How could one possibly sleep when only hours ago their very lives had been held in jeopardy? Not to mention the fact that the alien starship was quite an unnerving place to find oneself, and certainly not a welcoming location to try and catch a few winks of shuteye no matter how friendly their hosts might be.

So the night had passed mostly in silence. Occasionally the group had struck up a conversation. However, the weary dialogue would eventually taper off, and again let the unsettling quiet reaffirm its grasp. There really was nothing much they could discuss, not when almost nothing was known about the situation outside of their meager quarters. All they could do was wait and hope the starship crew would return soon... for better or for worse.

Abruptly, the door leading out to the central corridor swished open. All five humans nearly jumped out of their skin as a blinding light suddenly flooded into the dark space. At that moment, a shadowy figure came to stand framed in the doorway.

Instinctively, the agents' hands reached up toward the gun holsters concealed within the lapels of their jackets, only to realize uncomfortably that they were all unarmed. Once aboard the starship, each man of the security detail had been relieved of all firearms, a demand by the aliens that had been grudgingly carried out. There was nothing worse for a Secret Service agent than to be unarmed... but they were not in a position to argue against the request.

President Schrader squinted his eyes painfully while his vision adjusted to the rapid change in light. Eventually he could make out the distinct features of a human standing just outside in the adjacent hallway... and it was none other than Keith Ramirez, the former International Space Station astronaut turned alien ambassador.

So... the aliens had sent their human puppet to deal with him.

Ambassador Ramirez wore quite a quizzical expression, as he seemed torn between complete incredulity and grim determination. For a moment he weighed his words carefully, noting the utter woeful expressions of the other humans within the room. For him, it was striking how the President sat along the edge of the nearby bed, appearing completely demoralized... a mere shell of the vibrant and cheerful man Keith remembered campaigning for election some time ago.

But then again, this was a man that had escaped capture and even possible assassination. He had watched many sacrifice their lives to protect him, and witnessed unspeakable destruction. This was a man that had sworn an oath to protect the citizens of the United States, to tackle any problem that threatened his country, to stand fast as a confident leader. And yet, his poise and integrity had been ruthlessly attacked by a greater power determined to undermine his influence, and no doubt harm the social fabric of his nation... and there appeared to be nothing he could do to stop it. The grim notion was more than enough to devastate even the strongest of wills.

"Good morning, Mr. President," Keith spoke solemnly, his voice cutting through the stillness of the room. Cautiously, he walked through the threshold of the opened doorway to emerge into the gloomy atmosphere of the living quarters. "Are you feeling ok, Sir?"

Ramirez's inquiry caused Schrader to blink deliberately several times. Still sitting on the side of the bed, the President reached up and rubbed a hand groggily against his forehead, while he tried to overcome the sudden wave of exhaustion that afflicted his awareness.

"I suppose I could be worse off." His voice was leaden with weariness. "For being pursued and shot at by weapons of such ungodly origins, I should be thankful I am still breathing."

"Sir, I am terribly sorry... I cannot begin to imagine the terror you must've felt..." Keith let his words trail off as he came to stand near the bed. An awkward silence took hold and lingered for several long moments.

"A lot of good men and women gave their lives to safeguard my wellbeing," Schrader suddenly spoke, slicing through the uncomfortable quiet. "Terror? No... what I feel is nothing but remorse... confusion... perhaps anger to a greater extent." There certainly was an undertone of fury with his statement.

Schrader's hand came away from his forehead as he returned his attention to Keith. "I am the President of the United States, and yet I am stuck cowering down here in relative safety while God only knows what is happening to the country I have sworn an oath to protect and serve. Surely, you cannot pass judgment on me for feeling so helpless."

Keith had to concede that fact. There was no worse feeling than to be stuck in so hopeless a situation, as the world came crashing down around you. Only a day ago, Ramirez had faced his own version of hell, experiencing the full power and horror of the suicide attack that had mercilessly crippled the Federation fleet. If anyone could sympathize with President Schrader, it was him.

The Commander made no move to stand from the side of the bed, so instead Keith came to plop down on the sheets alongside him, uttering a labored sigh as he did so. "The crew of this ship is doing their best to help humanity fight this brutal war," the ambassador said evenly. "It was by no means anything less than a small miracle that they managed to rescue you."

"But that is all they have managed to accomplish. What good does it do to rescue me when my country, and no doubt the rest of the planet, is probably being systematically obliterated?! And yet these aliens of yours are just sitting down here hiding while our planet is completely overrun!" The anger was obvious in the President's tone.

Keith barely managed to stifle a bitter retort. It wouldn't help anyone for him to level with Schrader's fury. "This is only a single starship," he calmly replied instead. "If the crew came out to meet the Domain guns blazing, they would be utterly overwhelmed. We can't match the enemy by going toe to toe with them, so we have to bide our time and plan out our moves carefully."

"Surely there must be something this ship can do? I will not accept your excuse that this crew cannot inflict some sort of damage to the enemy right at this very moment. I've seen the weapons on this vessel, back when it first swooped in to fuck up our world."

Ramirez motioned vaguely up toward the ceiling in frustration. "The sheer amount of firepower that is currently orbiting this planet is far beyond the comprehension of you and me. I cannot stress to you enough just how outgunned and outmatched humanity is in this terrible war we now find ourselves in. In light of that fact, I can safely tell you that the crew of this ship is doing everything in its power to help humanity resist."

Keith uttered another deep sigh as he again stood to regard the President, who mulled over his words carefully. "I just ask you one simple request," the ambassador spoke almost imploringly to Schrader. "Trust in my judgment... and trust in the crew of this starship to get us through this situation."

Again his words were met with silence.

After quite a significant pause, the Commander in Chief slowly rose to his feet with a groan of effort. "It's not like I have a choice in the matter," Schrader responded dispassionately, while using his hands to smooth out the various creases in his tarnished suit. "For the moment... I will comply with your wishes, since I have no other option."

Well that settled that... or so Keith thought.

"Now then, I've been asked to escort you to the bridge. The captain wishes to speak with you."

That statement provoked a raised eyebrow from President Schrader. "Just what business does he wish to discuss with me? I thought I was to be kept in here as some sort of prisoner. Why would the aliens need me when I am just a leader without a country to run?!"

The contempt in the Commander's voice made Keith flinch inwardly as something within him snapped. They were going to get nowhere if this bitter man kept acting the fool he was. "First off, she wishes to have your opinion on a matter that has developed. Second, we had no intention of holding you here against your will. The crew just needed some rest, and Lumina felt it was best to keep you in this room for the night."

Keith stabbed a finger out toward Schrader accusingly as he let anger creep into his voice. "If you don't start acting like the dignified politician you should be, I'll personally throw your sorry ass off this starship without a second thought!"

"Are you threatening me?!"

The President's expression took on a dangerous air as the four Secret Service agents situated around the room tensed up noticeably. Even though they were unarmed, that didn't mean the men were incapable of defending their primary charge from harm. However, Keith paid them no mind.

"Yes I am," Ambassador Ramirez replied acidly, as he fixed the Commander with a withering glare. "The crew was not obligated to rescue your incompetent ass. They could've easily left you for dead. You are useless to us if you continue to act this way! If you so desire, I'll throw you into a floating raft and leave you to drift aimlessly across the Chesapeake, where you can contemplate just how fucking childish you're being."

President Schrader recoiled away as if he'd been slapped forcefully across the face. No one had ever talked down to him in such a manner. Keith's words literally left him speechless, as his mouth opened and closed several times in failed attempts to speak.

Seeing the look of utter shock painted across the Commander's face, Keith forcefully quelled his anger, and dropped his hand down to fall loosely at his side. "I'm sorry Mr. President. We need you at your best to help us make it through this."

Ambassador Ramirez was inwardly stunned at what he had just said to arguably the most powerful man on planet Earth. Jesus... had he just basically told Schrader to go fuck himself for being a child?! He was certainly treading in dangerous waters, but what was said had to be said. At least his words had a noticeable effect on the man, although probably at the expense of placing an emotional wedge between the two of them.

After quickly overcoming his initial astonishment, the President's expression melted into an unreadable mask. The two men regarded one another sternly for a tense few moments like boxers squaring off for a bout, before Schrader exhaled deeply.

"You got some massive balls... but you are right, ambassador," the Commander spoke calmly, belying his smoldering fury. President Schrader didn't enjoy the notion of being humiliated in front of his security detail, but he had come to realize that Keith made at least a certain amount of sense. It was best for the time being to swallow his pride and go along with whatever the aliens might be planning.

Schrader relaxed his posture somewhat, and made a show of straighten the tie he wore. "So the captain wanted to see me?"

A moment's hesitation elapsed before the ambassador managed a reply. "Yes... she does. Please follow me."

Keith welcomed the change in the President's demeanor as the tension in the room eased slightly. Oh... the hostility was still there, but at least he could bring the Commander to the bridge in a somewhat more appropriate state of mind.

Again the door leading out to the main corridor swished open, allowing blinding light to spill into the dark confines of the quarters. Without delay, Keith crossed through the opened threshold to the hallway beyond, while the President silently followed suit with Secret Service in tow. In stark contrast to the previous room, the passageway remained brightly lit along its entire length, causing the humans to squint momentarily as eyes adjusted to the drastic change in lighting.

Nothing was said while the group made its way down the entire length of the drab grey corridor. What could be said after the heated exchange had just a few moments earlier?

In the lengthening silence, punctuated only by the footfalls of shoes against the metal decking, Keith could feel the President's eyes boring into the back of his head. Surely the man couldn't hold a grudge against him for only a few nasty words... or could he? Could a citizen of the United States be imprisoned for simply slandering the Commander in Chief? Keith made a mental note to find out if he managed to make it through this conflict alive.

After a few moments, the human contingent arrived at the doorway framed along the end of the hallway_._ Keith didn't even bother to look back at his followers as said door slid sideways into the wall, revealing the space beyond that was the ship's bridge.

The impending meeting would no doubt prove interesting... to say the least.

Two figures currently occupied the space; with one assuming control of the helm station, and the other standing alongside while leaning over slightly. Their forms stood backlit by the large panoramic window of the bridge, which glowed faintly with dim light filtering through the murky water of the Chesapeake outside.

Only the pointy wolfish ears of Kanolos were visible over the top of his console chair. However, Schrader could still recognize the pilot by the distinctive fox-furred pattern of his fluffy tail poking through a hole along the backrest of said chair. Although the President had only glimpsed the kyree's facial features the night prior, he rightfully assumed that the fur was a feature unique to Kano. In contrast to the pilot's familiarity, Schrader had never met the other alien standing alongside him.

Like Kano, she was also kyree, with a luxurious coat of smooth black fur that covered her from pointy ear to tail. She wore only simple work clothing; which comprised a matching pair of a short-sleeved shirt and shorts, with her ample tail poking out through a buttoned hole along the backside of the fabric. At the moment, she was busy conversing with Kanolos in their native tongue, while both focused their attention toward the visual displays of the console.

As the group of humans came to stand within the bridge space, neither kyree made a move to regard their presence. Keith was well aware that the two knew they were no longer alone, evidenced by how both sets of their ears splayed around toward his location... so why did they choose to ignore their guests? Something must've been bothering them.

Keith quickly shot a glance back toward the group behind him with an inclined notion to stay put. He then made his way over to the mated kyree, and consciously switched his speech over to Federation Basic.

"How close are we to the Maryland?" he asked in the kyree's tongue, while coming to stand opposite of Riyla.

At the moment, the holographic HUD of the console clearly showed the starship's current speed, depth, and other system status indications. However, the most striking feature was the large photo-real holographic depiction of the surrounding sea floor, superimposed over the dash to give Kanolos a clear view of where he was piloting Arastos.

"We're about a mile out," Riyla replied. The captain turned her attention to Keith with a thin smile, barely flashing her fangs in quite a devious fashion. "How was your initial greeting with the President?"

Keith had to stifle a laugh when realization hit him. "You were watching weren't you?"

"Now... I wouldn't be a good captain if I didn't know everything that happened aboard my vessel... now would I?" The black-furred kyree's grin suddenly evaporated. "I'm glad you put that bastard in his place. Kano saves the asshole from capture and possibly death, and he repays us by criticizing our efforts to help humanity. If it were solely up to me, I'd toss the useless bastard off my ship in a heartbeat."

"I only barely managed to convince her otherwise," Kano chimed in with a shake of his head from the helm seat between them. "However, if he pops off again, we just might find him that floating raft you mentioned."

Keith couldn't agree more with the kyree's statement. It would certainly be one less headache to worry about. "Sounds like a good idea to me."

Riyla briefly shot her eyes toward the President and his security detail. "I suppose I should go introduce myself. No matter how much I detest him, I still have to act as a hospitable host."

"If he pisses you off, try not to tear his throat out," Keith spoke gravely, while Riyla moved to stand fully upright. The captain then pivoted on her paws to finally regard Schrader.

While Keith and the two kyree had talked via Federation Basic, the President had listened intently to the alien dialect. The flow and tone of the language was almost rhythmic, erratic and strongly diverse in sound from word to word. Observing these wolfish aliens speaking in English had appeared... awkward to Schrader, perhaps even forced. But, this alien tongue... it flowed from their distinct canine muzzles fluidly like water. Moreover, Ambassador Ramirez appeared to have a perfect grasp of the language, as he conversed with the crew comfortably. How could he possibly come to wield the alien dialect so effortlessly in only a week's time?

Suddenly the female kyree stood and turned to stare intently at President Schrader. God... her wolfish eyes were quite intimidating, as they almost glowed a brilliant golden hue. The kyree's scrutiny unnerved the President greatly, briefly causing a wave of fear to wash over him while she stepped closer. Her gaze settled squarely on the Commander's own... seemingly judging him, evaluating him like a wolf stalking its prey.

"My name is Captain Riyla," the black-furred kyree spoke in English, causing Schrader to start noticeably. "I am in command of this vessel."

Riyla came to stand a few feet from the group of humans with arms folded across her chest. She continued to gaze intently at Schrader while shifting her hips marginally, causing the kyree's fluffy tail to sway slightly.

"I never would've expected to meet you in person," she added coolly, masking her malice toward him with a carefully crafted neutral expression. "It was fortunate we were able to reach you in time before the Domain closed in."

Captain Riyla stood just two inches shorter than President Schrader. Even so, she came across as quite the intimidating kyree. The human leader found it hard to hold his gaze on her piercing golden eyes. She positively radiated authority, while standing before him almost with an air of disapproval. Undoubtedly, this alien held his fate precariously in her hands; thus it was best not to incite her wrath.

The Commander in Chief quickly donned his best politician smile, while extending a hand out toward the black-furred kyree to offer a handshake. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Captain Riyla."

There was a brief uncomfortable pause, while Riyla regarded the President's extended hand as if it was covered in slime, keeping her arms crossed contemptuously. After a moment's consideration, the kyree again looked up into Schrader's eyes with a deadpan expression.

"This is my vessel, President Schrader," she spoke icily. "As such, I expect you to follow my rules and not interfere with matters that do not concern you. If you disapprove of that notion, then I will gladly put you off my ship."

Riyla fixed Schrader with a foreboding glare, almost as if she were warning a child to not misbehave. "Do I make myself clear?"

The President's offered hand slowly fell to his side, his smile vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. Obviously the captain wanted nothing to do with him... so there was no need to try feigning a friendly disposition. He just barely managed to bite back a vicious retort to her rude introduction, lest he further provoke the threatening creature before him and risk worsening his predicament.

"You leave me no choice." What else could Schrader say? He had no cards to play in this particular game of poker.

His reply was met by a slight nod of understanding from the captain, serving to alleviate some of the tension that had been building up on the bridge. However, the undertone of opposition was still very much present.

"Very well," Riyla spoke evenly, holding her ground with arms still crossed. "Now... before I continue, just how much do you know about the situation topside?"

That wasn't a question the President had expected. His expression took on a thoughtful look, while he considered a reply. "Your counterparts informed me of the planetary invasion currently underway, in addition to vaguely describing the surprise attack against your own military beforehand. Beyond that, I have no idea what is happening."

The captain went silent for a moment, shifting her stance while the kyree's elegant tail swayed about behind her figure. "It would probably be best if Lumina explained the situation to you then."

"Very well," a feminine voice suddenly spoke from almost directly above President Schrader's shoulder.

The Commander nearly tripped over his own feet as he recoiled away in shock. Lumina's kyree hologram had appeared silently alongside the President, standing just out of sight of the Secret Service so as not to be noticed. She could've easily materialized her persona anywhere else along the bridge space, but the A.I. felt the man needed a little shock to his system... just a subtle reminder that he was merely a guest aboard her starship. The construct had to give Schrader some credit though, for he recovered his composure quickly.

The President eyed Lumina with an unreadable look. The stunningly white fur of the kyree's figure provided quite the drastic contrast to Riyla's charcoal black coat. A moment passed before Schrader remembered that he was staring at a complicated light projection visual, but damned if she didn't appear completely lifelike. If it hadn't been for that disturbing hand through the stomach trick she had done the night before, he'd probably still think she was flesh and blood.

The A.I. construct had been the only crew member Schrader met after stepping foot aboard the night prior. Although she was merely an artificial intelligence, something right out of a science fiction novel, Lumina had quickly proven to be a shrewd and all-around upfront individual. He had no idea how such a unique being could be born out of computer code and electronic data; however she certainly appeared to contain a sense of self. A distant part of his mind remarked how her presence would send the religious community into an uproar... if there was still anything left of humanity.

Lumina gazed keenly upon President Schrader, seemingly weighing her words carefully before she spoke. "Unfortunately, since your rescue the preceding night, the situation has taken a serious turn for the worst."

"What has happened?" The Commander inquired apprehensively, his face awash with dread.

"The Domain stepped up their invasion plan earlier this morning, by dispatching assault teams tasked to seize or destroy all human military installations and hardware across the planet."

At that moment, a holographic spherical depiction of Earth materialized alongside the A.I.'s figure, with the planet rotating about slowly. Along the surface of the visual, an untold number of blue icons marked each substantial military base across the globe, while additional symbols indicated concentrated armed forces such as naval carrier groups.

Meanwhile, hovering menacingly above the holographic planet were clusters of much larger red icons. Schrader rightfully assumed these symbols represented the capital starships of the invasion fleet, which were arranged about Earth in a blockade formation. The sheer number of hostile vessels orbiting around the holographic visual alarmed the President greatly. He definitely understood what Ambassador Ramirez had said about the sheer number of enemy spacecraft they were up against; but, actually seeing the enemy's strength still filled him with disbelief.

"This is a snapshot of the drala armada at 5:45 this morning," Lumina continued emotionlessly, gesturing vaguely toward the visual. "... and this is when the fleet initiated the assault."

As President Schrader watched with incredulity, each of the large red icons in orbit suddenly spawned countless smaller entities. Quickly the holographic display filled with a shower of the smaller symbols, as each descended down from orbit toward a specific blue icon across the planet surface. It was like watching an intricate video game play out before him, except that each of those blue icons represented untold numbers of human lives.

For the briefest of moments swaths of red assault elements disappeared from the holographic projection, leaving several blue symbols untouched. However, soon Schrader took notice of numerous capital starships breaking orbit to follow the preliminary attack, quickly moving in to overwhelm what meager defenses could be established... and just that quickly, the offensive was over, as almost all of the blue icons simply vanished off the visual.

"My God..." Schrader breathed. "It is already over?! Were we able to resist?"

"I'm sorry sir, humanity put up one hell of a fight... but almost all international military forces have been either destroyed or captured."

The Commander in Chief felt like someone had punched him squarely in the stomach. After the horrible attack designed to capture him, he had still held out hope... a short-lived hope that humanity would be capable of warding off these alien hostiles. Watching his country's military being wiped out so easily, even as simple icons painted across a three-dimensional display, filled his heart with utter gut-wrenching dismay.

With the horrible realization came a sense of determination. There had to be a way that President Schrader could get back at these monstrous creatures... a way that could repay them for every human life taken in cold blood. However, there was nothing within his power that he could do... or was there?

The President returned his gaze to Captain Riyla. The disgust and hatred that had been directed at him was nowhere to be seen, instead replaced by a look of sympathy for the pain he felt. Her empathy toward him caught Schrader by surprise. Until now, he had been met with nothing but resentment by these individuals... well, wait a moment.

He had been the one who criticized their motives, and their choices of action. Was it not only fair for them to return the animosity? These aliens had saved his life, and he certainly owed them for that. They didn't deserve his criticism... but then again he just could not ignore the coincidence between their first appearance, and the invasion now ravaging his world. As such, there was a simple but important question that the President needed to ask.

"I know this must seem like an odd question for me to ask," Schrader asked suddenly, his face abruptly set with grim resolve. "But I have to know..."

The black-furred kyree's wolfish ears twitched as she tilted her head to the side slightly in curiosity. Her expression melted into concern, while Riyla wondered what had trigged the sudden change in the President's demeanor.

"Is your first appearance on our planet the reason behind this ruthless invasion?"

There... it was out in the open for everyone present to hear... the proverbial elephant in the room.

Captain Riyla opened her muzzle to reply, but stopped. Her golden eyes lingered for a moment on the Commander, before unexpectedly turning toward the floor. All of the confidence and authority the kyree had shown was abruptly gone, as her shoulders slumped and tail hung limp. And just the suddenly, Kanolos was at his mate's side.

"None of this crew regrets the decisions we made back then," the fox-furred kyree spoke with confidence, while placing a hand gently on Riyla's shoulder. "Rescuing the ISS crew was a clear and blatant violation of our laws and customs, and yet we cast all of that aside to save several humans from certain death."

The pilot's gaze toward the President was not accusatory, but rather of assurance... an individual confident in the choices he and his fellow crew had made.

"When we made that fateful choice," he continued. "...the only consequence known to us was the need to introduce humanity to the stellar community. Hell, until a few days ago, our Federation was at peace with the Domain, even engaging in active merchant commerce with the territory. The drala are a fairly violent race, but we had never considered them a threat."

Kanolos's expression took on a reflective appearance, while his ears folded flat somewhat with indignity. "I suppose the blame does rest with my kind to some extent, for trusting in our military to deter any hostile actions by the Domain. The drala have been suffering through terrible food and resource shortages... and I suppose they were finally pushed to take drastic action."

The kyree gave Riyla's shoulder a slight squeeze, causing her to turn and gaze fondly upon him with a grateful smile. "Our choice to rescue the ISS crew proved the needed catalyst to ignite this conflict, which has been smoldering for some time now. The action to end humanity's isolation provided the Domain with enough incentive to reach out and try expanding its influence to your world."

Kanolos's hand came away from his mate's shoulder, while the captain again stood with assurance beside him.

"Despite the implications of our actions," Lumina suddenly added from beside President Schrader. "...this crew stands fast by its decision. And now we are here in our best capacity to help humanity in any way we can. The Federation fleet will come with a vengeance, and when that critical moment arrives we'll be right here fighting at your side, to help take back your planet."

Lumina's words were shared by her fellow colleagues as both kyree, and even Keith, nodded in agreement. The shared comradely of the starship crew moved President Schrader deeply. Right then and there, he decided that he would cast aside all previous notions held against these intrepid aliens, and work together with them to fight their collective enemy.

As Riyla and Kanolos both looked on in curiosity, President Schrader approached the mated kyree with confidence. "How I handled myself earlier was inappropriate," he spoke earnestly. "Captain, I offer my sincere apology to both you and Ambassador Ramirez for my actions. Can I request that we wipe the slate clean and start from the beginning?"

The human leader came to stand before Riyla, his hand extended out toward the black-furred kyree. However, this time his offer of friendly greeting was genuine.

The captain eyed the President's extended hand for the briefest of moments, before her muzzle split in a warm smile. "It is my pleasure to have you aboard Mr. President."

And with that, an honest handshake was had between two powerful individuals of separate races, forging an alliance destined to go down in history as the beginning of a new era for humanity.

"I'm glad that we've come to terms," Lumina proclaimed with a smile of her own.

"No doubt," Kano chimed in as he moved to again take control of the helm station. The fox-furred kyree hadn't bothered to tell anyone that no one was piloting the ship in his absence from the controls. It was best he not leave the helm for too long, lest they crash into the seafloor... or even worse, a certain submerged submarine that was fast approaching.

"Alright now let me get back to the situation at hand," Lumina continued, while motioning to the holographic depiction of Earth still slowly rotating alongside her form.

As the President turned his attention back to the visual depiction, the viewpoint abruptly changed. Quickly Lumina tweaked the top-down perspective to center over the eastern seaboard of the United States, before rapidly zooming the display down. For the Commander in Chief, the photo-real graphical display was unreal. While he watched, the spherical shape of the hologram slowly flatted out to a smooth two-dimensional depiction. Eventually the image settled on a small portion of the Chesapeake Bay, with two blue icons displayed across the water surface.

The first symbol was clearly labeled "Federation Starship Arastos," marking the exact position of the vessel Schrader currently found himself aboard. However, what really caught his eye was the marker centered on the other blue icon, which simply read "USS Maryland."

USS Maryland? That was a US naval warship... but what type of vessel was she? Swiftly the President racked his mind to try remembering notable names of Navy ships until... Jesus... that was an Ohio class ballistic missile submarine!

"We're on a little rescue mission," The A.I. added matter-of-factly. "Seems the Maryland's skipper is quite a crafty son of a bitch..."

********************

Good Lord, the air was foul!

Submariners were a rough lot of sailors, men who could stomach fairly deplorable conditions. Nevertheless, the current state of affairs was certainly pushing the men to their breaking points.

The oxygen recycling equipment had long since been shut down, leaving the atmosphere of the control room to slowly degrade over the past couple of hours. Humidity hung heavily about the space, drenching the crew in rank sweat, the smell of which perforated the compartment horribly. Furthermore, the ship's list to the port side at about a 20 degree angle didn't help matters any.

Captain Ian Rubin stood silently amidst the suffocating heat, surveying his crew carefully. His ploy to fake the USS Maryland's demise had paid off, although the gamble had been a long one by far. Not often did a submarine sustain a hit from enemy fire and live to fight on. Thankfully the fates had smiled kindly upon him for the moment, sparing his submarine a watery grave; although, they were not out of danger yet.

Standing just shy of six foot at 180 lbs., Captain Rubin was not one to stand out in a crowd. He possessed characteristic hazel eyes framed by a pair of humble glasses, along with russet hair shaped in a crew-cut fashion... a very unassuming man. However, the skipper was best characterized for his unique intellectual merit, and his uncanny ability to see matters through unconventional means. Philosophical, clever, and all-around accomplished as a naval strategist, Ian was considered by his peers to be a natural-born leader, evidenced by his command position of the USS Maryland at the strikingly young age of 33.

Again Rubin checked his watch, a ritualistic habit he had developed since bottoming out his boat. The Omega Seamaster timekeeper had been a present for graduating naval academy many years ago. Containing a distinctive orange plated rim about the watch face, the device was a treasured keepsake for the skipper, and a memento from his father who had passed away several years earlier.

With a slight huff of exasperation, the captain suddenly thumbed a channel on the communication equipment.

"Sonar, Con... what is the situation with our equipment?" he inquired over the comm link to the forward compartment.

A brief pause ensued, before a disembodied voice echoed softly across the bridge speakers. "Con, Sonar... the bow mounted arrays are still giving no acoustical readings. Best guess is our bow is completely submerged beneath the soot of the sea floor... we're only going to hear anything if we deploy the towed sonar array, captain."

"Con... aye." That prospect didn't augur well for Captain Rubin. At the moment he was effectively blind, but extending the towed array might possibly give the submarine away to the enemy. He had no idea how technologically sophisticated there sensors were, or even if any hostile contacts were still in the general area. Again he checked his watch... if the alien's hadn't fully taken the bait by now, they never would.

"Ok gentlemen, how about we get some fresh air circulating," Ian spoke to the weary submariners situated about the con space. "Buck, please do the honors. Hopefully our friends above have long since left the area... otherwise this will get interesting very quickly."

Tony "Buck" Rodgers was as faithful a second in command as a captain could possibly ask for. The XO had a reputation for strategic knowhow and conventional wisdom, a man well versed in submarine tactics and warfare. Buck was the proverbial Ying to Captain Rubin's Yang, the concrete methodological mind to balance out against the skipper's abstract tactics. Together the two men formed a formidable team.

Quickly the captain's command was relayed across the ship, as life-support systems were brought back online. It wasn't long before refreshing cool air was once again circulating throughout the compartments of the Maryland, revitalizing the crew back to a state of readiness. For Captain Rubin, the sudden burst of air conditioning felt like a splash of icy water across his face... nothing was worse than being stuck inside a metal can when the temperature was hotter than all hell.

Ian noted how everyone present in the control room visibly relaxed as the compartment atmospheric conditions returned to something close to tolerable. They weren't dead yet, might as well continue slowly bringing the Maryland back online.

Again the captain flicked a button to open a comm channel. "Sonar, Con... let's reel out the towed sonar array. Hopefully the bay's current will spool the line out long enough for us to gather data on the surrounding area."

The towed sonar array was arguably considered the single greatest defensive and offensive mechanism for any submarine. Consisting of a cable several kilometers long, the acoustical device was designed to trail freely behind the vessel as it moved. Embedded within this long sensor grid cable, numerous hydrophones sat positioned at periodic distances apart, which were designed to listen for distinctive sounds that might imply an enemy was nearby. The advantage to such a detection technique was the ability to more accurately determine the direction and distance of a given sound, via a complex form of signal triangulation.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the lengthy cable was reeled out of the protective housing along the stern of the Maryland. However, the water current was not nearly strong enough to float the hydrophones away from the sub to stretch the sonar equipment out in a characteristic straight contour. This was the one drawback to the towed method, as detection efficiency was reduced with the cable not expanded out in a linear fashion. There was a way around this problem, which took the form of GPS transmitters along the array. Yet...

"Con, Sonar... we are receiving no GPS signal on any of the exposed hydrophones sir."

That did not bode well for the captain. If there was no signal being received, that either meant that his sonar array was damaged... or a more grave reason could be that the Global Positioning System satellite grid was either being jammed or was simply destroyed. While the former notion was quite plausible, the latter made more sense under the circumstances.

If the enemy was halfway competent and possessed a whole fleet of starships similar to the one Ian had watched destroy the USS Enterprise, then it stood to reason that one of the first tactical moves they would make would be to disable the GPS system.

The loss of the navigation system would not serve to hurt the Maryland too much, as she was equally capable of navigating with more primitive means such as the tried and tested compass; even her Trident ballistic missiles operated on star-sighting guidance. However, the lack of GPS would certainly hobble the military as a whole... what was left of it at any rate.

"Con aye," Captain Rubin finally acknowledged after a significant pause. "Can you establish any contacts yet?"

A moment passed before the bridge speakers responded. "Sir, no submerged contacts to report. I have multiple merchant screws turning at high rates of speed. Without GPS we can't get an accurate fix on position... but it is safe to say that each and every one of the vessels is hastily making their way out into the Atlantic."

"Means our alien friends are still in the area," Ian reasoned aloud to no one in particular. Again he thumbed the comm channel switch. "No friendly military contacts to report?"

"Negative sir."

Now the captain was faced with a difficult dilemma. Could he risk moving the Maryland from her current position out toward the relative safety of open ocean? Just how sophisticated were his adversary's sensors? How long could they remain undetected while sitting along the seafloor? The risks weighed heavily on Captain Rubin's shoulders, as he carefully considered each option that was presented to him. And after a few minutes of quiet deliberation, he reached a decision.

"XO, spin up the reactor to idle and prepare to engage the screw," Ian suddenly spoke confidently to his second and command. "I think it is time to see how much damage we have sustained to our propulsion."

His order was hurriedly carried out without a moment's hesitation. There was no doubt the crew of the USS Maryland wanted to vacate the scene as much as their captain did. Subsequently, the nuclear reactor of the missile sub was carefully brought back up to an idle reaction rate, while various submariners across the ship's hull prepared the driving machinery for imminent operation.

"Engine room reports reaction rate at idle conditions captain," Buck replied after consulting with the instrument panel near his position.

"Very well." Ian turned his attention to the ensign manning the helm controls. "Helm, are you able to maneuver the stern planes?"

There was a brief silence, as the sailor assessed his console while working the control yoke cautiously about. "I'm getting no response from the stern planes captain. The rudder is also jammed fully to the starboard, sir."

There was little question where the submarine had sustained the earlier hit. While luck had sided with the crew by means of the weapon's fire not breeching a compartment, the Maryland was still effectively doomed. The sub could still make headway with only the forward diving planes on the conning tower providing vertical control, but having the rudder jammed hard over condemned the ship to endlessly circle about uselessly... making her a sitting duck. In any case, Ian still wanted to fully assess the damage to the submarine.

"Well, we're obviously not going anywhere anytime soon," he began again to no one in particular. "However I want to ascertain the condition of the screw. Buck, make reverse turns for half a knot... just enough to turn the prop."

The order was swiftly passed down the chain of command as reactor steam once again was shunted to the propulsion shaft. While the XO watched the helm console with a wary eye, the digital readouts gradually indicated pressure building in the driving turbine machinery.

Suddenly, warning lights flashed across the display, causing both the XO and helmsman to jump noticeably with the unexpected barrage of audio warning signals blaring from the station.

"Captain, the screw isn't turning!" Buck blurted out hastily. "Pressure is reaching critical levels!"

"All Stop!"

Damn... they really were crippled. The problem was most likely the screw bearings, which were probably jammed. That was no easy fix, especially for a submarine currently stuck 200 feet underwater. To replace said bearings would compromise the watertight integrity of the hull... so that was certainly out of the question.

"Alright Buck, began organizing dive teams to go have a look at the damage... if anything we can have them get out and push."

A few nervous chuckles emanated from the crew at his remark. Regrettably, his statement was probably the best solution he had to the given problem at the moment. They couldn't surface, they couldn't maneuver underwater... all he could do was sit and continue to play dead. However, it was a sure bet that the aliens would catch on to his act sooner or later if the Maryland remained there much longer.

"Con, Radio... we're receiving a signal on the Gertrude, captain."

The sudden unexpected news over the control room speakers made Ian blink several times. The underwater telephone, also called a Gertrude, was a communication device limited to only a couple hundred meters at best. The fact that a signal was being received meant that there was another vessel somewhere close by... very close.

"Con... aye... are we receiving any traffic over the VLF or ELF bands?"

"Negative sir. Just the Gertrude... they won't identify who they are... but they are asking for you, captain."

Ian chewed on a fingernail thoughtfully, a bad habit of his that he had never committed in front of the crew until now. Something was very wrong about this whole mess. Yet, he had to try and see just who was attempting to talk with the Maryland. "Go ahead and patch the line through to the con."

While the radio room worked to do just that, Ian again thumbed a comm channel to the sonar room. "Sonar, Con... any new contacts to report?"

"Negative sir, there are no submerged or surface contacts within five miles of our location at best guess."

That was definitely interesting. Whoever was on the other end of the communication line, they were invisible to the Maryland's sonar... interesting to say the least.

With a deliberate step, Captain Rubin made his way over to the Gertrude receiver positioned along the nearby bulkhead. Making sure to keep his expression neutral, he then picked up the device's communicator while pressing a button to channel the receiving sound through the control room speakers. He preferred allowing the crew to listen in on his conversations when possible. It always helped establish a rapport with his men.

"This is Captain Ian Rubin of the USS Maryland," Ian spoke into the mechanism evenly. "May I ask who's calling, please?"

A slight pause ensued, before a distinct feminine voice echoed across the control room. "That is not important at the moment, captain. Right now I ask that you keep the Maryland steady, so that my vessel can dock to the hatch above your control space."

Many of the sailors positioned throughout the compartment instinctively turned toward the hatch in question, which was located just aft of where Captain Rubin stood. So there really was another ship located nearby after all. He just had to find out if they were friendly... God help the crew of this submarine if the mysterious newcomers were not.

The voice on the other end of the line seemed to read his mind. "Please trust me when I say we are friendly. My ship has come to offer assistance."

Several crew members across the control room visibly relaxed at the statement, while Ian contemplated the mysterious stranger's words. If they had wanted the Maryland erased out of existence, the crew would've already been dead long ago. Captain Rubin decided to go with his gut feeling... at least for now.

"Very well," he spoke with a level voice that belied the growing unease Ian really felt. What options did he really have? He couldn't just sit and wait on the ocean floor for the enemy to find his boat again. He had gambled once already; why not roll the dice again? "It isn't like we're going anywhere for a while."

"Understood, we will dock with your vessel shortly."

The line quickly went dead, and Ian reached up to replace the Gertrude horn back into its proper holder. At that moment, Buck appeared at his side wearing quite the unsettled expression.

"Ian, don't you think you might be too trusting of whoever is out there?" the XO whispered softly, so as not to be overhead by the nearby enlisted men. "Should we get the chief of the boat to procure some side arms, perhaps?

Captain Rubin thought about his friend's request, but quickly determined there was no need as he answered in an equally low whisper. "You saw what the other bastards did to us. If they really wanted us dead, they'd have taken us out without calling on the phone. Besides, it's not like we've really got many other options at this point..."

"You and your gut-feelings... they've never steered us wrong before."

So the crew of the USS Maryland waited, with almost all of the men of the control room staring intently up toward the top hull of their submarine in rapt silence. Somewhere above that extremely thin metal exterior was another vessel of unknown origins, undoubtedly hovering precariously close to their own boat. All the crew could do now was wait... and hope a collision did not occur.

Captain Rubin flinched inwardly when a soft thud announced contact between the two ships. Someone had just connected with the docking hatch almost directly over his head.

A perceptible noise quickly resonated from said access point, announcing that water was being sucked out of the null space between the two mating hatches. Without a word, Ian slowly made his way toward the entrance. There was no sense hesitating now.

The control board soon announced that the hatch was properly configured to be opened. With a nod to his XO, Ian slowly reached up and began to open the docking hatch, holding his breath as he did so in anxiety.

Once the first inner door was opened fully, the captain climbed up several stairs so he could reach the second outer hatch, which was now the only barrier separating him from whatever was on the other side. He was already halfway there, might as well keep going.

Carefully the captain released the hatch lock, before slowly pushing the heavy door up away from his body. Instantly a flood of powerfully bright light inundated the crawl space Ian found himself in, momentarily causing his eyes to snap shut as he held up a hand. However, soon a figure could be seen backlit by the intense aura around him... and he was standing... on the wall?!

Ian almost did a double take... yes, the man was standing on the wall of the small corridor beyond the sub hatch, with his gaze looking down directly at the captain. How the hell was that possible?!

"Greetings... captain?" the strange man spoke with friendliness, smiling warmly toward Ian and his XO below.

At that moment, Captain Rubin recognized the man before him. This was none other than Ambassador Ramirez, the astronaut who had become the voice for a mysterious group of aliens, back during the International Space Station incident. If he was currently standing before Ian, than that meant the vessel presently docked to his submarine was... damn!

Keith took notice of the captain's aha moment with a chuckle. "I'm guessing you realize who I am and whatnot. It is my pleasure to extend a formal greeting on behalf of this starship's crew."

"Honestly, I never would've expected to have you come to my rescue," Captain Rubin replied in disbelief. "I thought this ship had left Earth a few days ago. In fact, I watched the vessel depart Cape Canaveral on my television."

"Well that is a very long story captain. I really don't have the time to explain it now... but we'll bring you up to speed in a hurry. Right now though, I have instructions to bring you to the bridge of this ship."

There was an awkward moment of silence, as Ian considered the request. He saw no prevalent reason not to accept the offer. If these were indeed the same aliens that had saved the ISS crew from guaranteed death, surely they were not responsible for the invasion currently devastating the world. Captain Rubin had no guarantee on the matter, but again his gut instinct triumphed.

"Very well, Ambassador Ramirez, I shall come aboard to meet the crew of your ship. But, first I have to ask... how the hell are you standing on the wall?"

Keith looked puzzled for a moment, before realization played across his expression. "Oh... right. Sorry, after being in space for several days, you sort of get used to the awkward gravity of these alien starships."

The ambassador motioned vaguely around where he stood. "I am currently standing inside one of the starship's two docking hatches, which are situated along the lateral hull section. Arastos wasn't built with human submarine design in mind unfortunately, so the vessel had to basically berth to the Maryland at a 90 degree offset."

"So you're actually standing on the floor at this very moment?" The captain reasoned with a raised eyebrow.

"Exactly. The artificial gravity allows me to do so with the starship positioned at such an awkward angle. In effect the entire hull of the spacecraft is floating just above both of our heads."

Both men shook their heads with fascination, causing Keith to laugh at the notion.

"Trust me, I'm still not quite used to the discomfiture of it all," the ambassador added with a grin. "You just go along with it after a while... at least somewhat. Now then, care to join me in defying the laws of physics?"

Captain Rubin eyed Keith with a meaningful gaze before he sighed. "All those hours playing Portal are about to pay off, I imagine...just how do I go about doing this?"

"I suppose I had an advantage over you, back when I crossed into this very airlock from the ISS in null gravity. Best I can say is just pull yourself up that ladder as far as you can. The gravity is toned down to almost null conditions right at the threshold of the hatch, so you should be able to float upward before the artificial atmosphere takes hold."

This feat proved to be easier said than done. With some effort, Ian managed to cross his body up into the alien airlock. The result was a nauseating dizziness that overwhelmed the captain for a brief moment, before he found himself pressed up against the same wall Keith stood on... or he supposed that was the floor now.

"Mmph... that's not fun at all," Captain Rubin spoke woefully, while trying to acclimate to the new orientation. Looking down toward the XO's head poking up from the sub hatch below didn't help in that regard. At least the disorientation passed fairly quickly. "Buck, you have the con... keep working to coordinate repair efforts on the stern assemblies."

His second in command hesitated a moment, before acknowledging the order. "Aye... captain. Are you sure you'll be ok by yourself?"

"I'll be fine. I'm in good hands."

His confidence seemed to convince the XO, whose head disappeared back through the hatch threshold out of sight. With a huff of exertion, Ian slowly pulled himself to his feet, before turning to regard Keith. "Lead the way, Mr. Ambassador."

And so the two humans began to make their way toward the bridge of the Federation starship.

Captain Rubin couldn't help but be amazed at the mere fact he had stepped foot within a spacecraft not of this world. Sure he was in command of a naval vessel that could literally reshape the planet at the meager pull of a trigger; but this... this was a starship of such technological innovation that he couldn't even begin to comprehend. The fact was undeniable that this ship possessed firepower to which the Maryland's arsenal paled in comparison, and was powered by a device which made nuclear reactors look like a triple A battery. And this technology was all in the hands of creatures Ian had absolutely no knowledge about.

"So, Ambassador Ramirez," Captain Rubin spoke, taking up the conversation as the two passed into the ship's airlock. "...I've seen the vague picture of the wolf-like alien with the President. But, I wanted to know, what are these individuals really like?"

Keith considered his inquiry carefully for a moment. "First off, please call me Keith. As for the crew... like you said they are incredibly wolf-like in appearance. Fur, tails, pointy ears... pretty much almost identical save for being bipedal. And that is just the kyree! There are also the kenseng crew members, which are strikingly similar to a tiger appearance wise."

"Really? How is the similarity possible? They are from another planet right?

"Oh yes, definitely," Keith replied with a slight nod. "I've seen their world firsthand. It is amazingly similar to that of Earth. I have no idea why their appearance is so close to our native species. They tell me it has proven to be another mystery of the universe... or something like that."

Ian mulled over his statement intently. Perhaps there was some sort of cookie cutter template that Nature used when creating life. Taking that notion into consideration, the dominant species which rose to intelligence could simply be determined by random variation in the ecosystems of a particular world. He supposed the answer to that theory would never be solved in his lifetime.

"So how are these kyree and kenseng personality wise?" the captain continued, while both men moved out into the main corridor along the top deck of Arastos.

"In a nutshell...basically humans covered in fur. I've come to be good friends with all six members of this ship's crew as they are quite sociable... although, some of them have a wicked sense of humor."

"That's alright; I think I can go toe to toe with them if I need to... on a serious note, though... do these guys have anything to do with the fact that my submarine is sitting uselessly on the bottom of the Bay?"

The question caused Keith to stop mid-step along the corridor. "You know, you're the second person to ask that question today. The first guest I had to escort expressed the same concern. Rest assured that this crew has no role in the current attack against humanity."

"That is good to know," Ian spoke with a hint of relief. Another thought then occurred to him. "You mentioned another guest? Who else is aboard this ship?"

"Oh... you'll find out in a few moments."

The slight smile that Keith wore only further perplexed the captain. Just who else could possibly be aboard?

It wasn't long before they reached the end of the lengthy corridor, where Ian came to eye a doorway framed across the bulkhead with an inquisitive look. "I take it the bridge is on the other side of this door?"

"Aye, you've got a keen eye for things," Keith replied. He motioned with a hand toward the door. "Our other guest is currently on the bridge as well. We felt that he should be present when you came onboard."

"Oh... well I suppose I don't want to keep everyone waiting... if I'm the last person to arrive at the party."

The doorway suddenly opened sideways into the wall, allowing Captain Rubin to first glimpse the bridge space of the Federation starship.

The compartment turned out to be quite spacious, with a large panoramic window framed along the forward bulkhead. Just aft of the windowpane was a workstation console positioned directly in the center of the deck, to give the occupant a clear view of the outside world. To Ian's observation, the console was probably that of the ship's helm, his assumption evidenced by the various control stick interfaces found along the dash.

Just aft of the first work station was another console, situated slightly higher off the surrounding deck...this certainly had to be the captain's position. It was here, standing alongside the captain's chair, that Ian came to notice two of the ship's crew regarding him with perceptive gazes. Their appearance simply left him speechless.

Captain Rubin immediately recognized the fox-furred pattern of the male kyree from the White House picture. Yet, the female was far more a striking sight to behold, with her shadowy black fur a stark contrast to the modest clothing the wolf-like alien wore.

However, the single most remarkable characteristic of the crew was their deep golden predatory eyes. Just like their four-legged cousins, the kyree retained that certain prominent gaze, that particular regard with an air of wisdom and respect. Ian had always found that aspect of wolves to be an endearing quality. And here he had come to meet those unwavering intuitive eyes directly ... oh, did the sight send a sudden chill down his spine.

Both kyree's muzzles suddenly split in warm smiles, displaying their canine fangs in a friendly fashion. At that moment Captain Rubin realized his mouth was hanging ajar, presenting quite a ridiculous sight to them. The human mentally reproached himself, while snapping his jaw shut and clearing his throat uncomfortably.

Here he was captain of a nuclear ballistic missile submarine, and his first response upon meeting the crew of this starship was to gawk like a spellbound child. At least they seemed to find his awkwardness amusing.

"G'day Captain Rubin," the male kyree spoke, as he moved away from his counterpart toward Ian. "Welcome aboard the Federation Axis starship Arastos."

The fox-furred kyree came to stand before Ian still smiling earnestly, hand extended out in offering of a handshake. "My name is Kanolos. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Captain Rubin quickly reached up to grasp the kyree's hand cordially. Damn... was his fur soft to the touch. "Likewise, my friend. I have to thank you for coming to our aid. I'm not sure what we could've done on our own."

"Honestly, we were shocked when we discovered your submarine hiding out on the seafloor. Quite a clever ploy to play dead... Unconventional, to say the least."

"I ran out of options," Ian replied humbly. "The odds of the strategy actually working were quite long, but I really had no other choice given how defenseless the Maryland was."

A thought suddenly occurred to Captain Rubin. "Are we safe here being so close to the shore? I take it that ungodly hostile starship is still hovering nearby."

"We are safe for the moment," the female kyree chimed in abruptly, as she moved to stand alongside Kanolos. "We've extended a damping field around both our starship and the Maryland, which effectively masks your presence to their sensors."

"Oh... well, that helps. They definitely had the ability to find us while we were submerged."

The black-furred kyree smiled pleasantly. "It is nice to meet you... my name is Riyla. I am captain of Arastos."

Ian extended his hand out for a warm handshake. Again, he couldn't help but remark at how soft to the touch the kyree's fur was. "Nice to meet you as well, Captain Riyla."

Her tail wagged happily as Riyla smiled. "I am truly happy that you were able to keep your crew alive during the merciless Domain attack. We will gladly offer any assistance we can provide to help repair the damage to your sub."

"Thank you very much. I greatly appreciate any help you can provide."

Suddenly, Captain Rubin realized several additional individuals currently resided within the bridge compartment. With a start, he turned around to find a group of humans standing off to the side of the compartment quietly, each looking upon him with impassive expressions. At first he had no idea who these men might be... wait a minute... was that the President?!

The man had an unkempt appearance, with a day's worth of beard growth and his hair tousled up. Furthermore, his suit was soiled and creased, tarnishing the expensive attire. Only after a brief moment, Ian realized that while the man before him was a mere shadow of the political figurehead he had come to know, this individual was indeed the President of the United States.

Sharply, Captain Rubin snapped to attention. "Sir... I'm sorry; I had no idea you were aboard."

"It's alright captain," President Schrader replied with a hint of discomfort. "There is no need for formalities at this point."

Ian visibly relaxed his posture with a slight wary nod. The President really seemed to be at wit's end. He had no idea what Schrader had suffered through prior to ending up aboard this starship; nevertheless, it appeared to have been quite a stressing ordeal.

"Now that we have you onboard Captain Rubin, there is a matter I need to discuss with you," Schrader continued forbiddingly.

Ian suddenly went on guard as the President's tone alarmed him deeply. "What exactly would that be?"

"What should we do with the 24 Trident missiles currently aboard your submarine, captain?"

Ian ran a hand through his hair for a moment before letting out a sigh. "Y'all have any coffee on this starship? This is going to take a while to figure out......"

********************

Steadily the Domain invasion continued its relentless march across the human planet without mercy. All throughout the world, massive capital warships loomed ominously over populated cities and military installations, quickly crushing any human military opposition that sprung up to defend against the onslaught. There would be no mercy for those who took up arms to resist the alien aggressors, simply methodical destruction, bent on intimidating and ultimately pacifying the populace of Earth.

Only now was the true horror of the alien assault understood by the human civilization. What had been initial confusion gave way to outright terror and panic as hysteria gripped the world. Populations suddenly fled urban areas in hordes of vehicles and foot traffic, with the resulting scenes resembling a mass exodus of refugees fleeing a warzone. Others flocked to religious sanctuaries to take comfort in faith and their devout peers. Still others simply sat quietly before their televisions with family and friends, and watched the drama unfold in dispassionate silence.

However, the will to fight was not lost on humanity... not by a long shot. Already resistance elements were taking root, while all across the globe civilians took up arms to defend their freedom. Meanwhile, various military forces managed to quietly slip away into the shadows, escaping destruction at the hands of the Domain to fight another day. In time, these military elements would link up with resistance movements, to create a formidable fighting force capable of striking surreptitiously at the heart of Domain operations.

The rules of engagement had changed since the initial attack, forcing the human defenders to undertake covert tactics of warfare... but they would continue to fight on.

Yet, there was still a weapon that humanity had not utilized against the drala invasion.

A relic of the Cold War, this particular weapon was not that of nuclear arms, but rather a much more terrible and destructive force. It had the ability to erase entire populations from the face of Earth, and strike utter fear into an opponent's heart. As such, this specific weapon had not once been used in anger, as it easily retained the capability to commit atrocious genocide.

Protected behind numerous safety measures and constant armed guard, the weapon was carefully housed inside a military facility in Koltsovo, Novosibrisk... a province within Russia. The surrounding community was a peaceful district, a sprawling city that belied the true gruesome nature of the research facility found nearby. And it was here that the Domain invasion came in frightening force.

With a grunt, the drala infantryman's armored boots contacted solid ground. Rifle at the ready, the reptilian-like soldier carefully surveyed his surroundings with a scrupulous eye, while stepping away from the dropship's gravity lift to clear the way for more combatants to glide down. His mission was clear and concise; secure the military facility, while eliminating any hostile forces encountered in the process.

To his superiors, the infantryman was simply known as service tag number: 2821-012... a fitting reminder of just how insignificant his existence really was. However, that didn't matter. Joining the armed forces was typically a matter of desperation, since the prospect guaranteed food rations. Number 12 never forgot for a moment that his decision was putting food on the table for his family. It was cruel and demanding work... but damned worth the reward.

After a few moments, the entire 50 man team of the platoon was assembled below the fuselage of the dropship, formed in a loose circle with guns pointed outward. At once the assembly was broken up into squads, with each tasked to enter and secure a different location.

And so, Number 12 found himself carefully working his way toward a nearby building, surrounded by a formidable concrete wall and barbed wire. He was accompanied by Numbers 14, 15, and 18, all soldiers that the drala infantryman had served with since his first day of training. As they walked, the combatants passed the burning hulk of a destroyed Russian T-90 main battle tank, the prior work of the dropship's point defense turret.

Intelligence had indicated that this particular facility housed several high-ranking military leaders. As such, the Domain commanders deemed it necessary to launch a contingent of ground troops to seize the site. The humans seemed to be putting up one hell of a fight, so there was definitely something of importance housed within.

With a careful weapon shot, the main gate was breeched and quickly thrown open, revealing a small courtyard leading up toward the building entrance... along with numerous human personnel armed to the teeth.

The resulting firefight proved short, but no less brutal as many of the defenders fell victim to skillful fire from the bulky drala plasma rifles. Just as quickly as the shooting had begun the combat was over, as the remaining human soldiers soon withdrew back inside the building. An eerie quiet suddenly descended across the courtyard, allowing the remaining Domain infantry to survey the horrific aftermath.

The resulting casualties made Number 12's stomach churn, as he turned to notice 15 lying motionless on his side. The infantryman had sustained a fatal hit through a small exposed spot underneath the shoulder pad armor, with the bullet striking him from his side. It was a gruesome fact of war, as a soldier could lose his life in such tragic ways... they all had rolled the dice, and fate had simply picked him to die.

His counterpart's death was a grim reminder of just how inadequate their armor was, filling 12 with anger while he dismally turned to continue onward toward his objective. Why the hell was he here? What purpose did it serve to kill these humans who were simply defending their planet? Why didn't the humans understand just how hopeless the situation really was? The questions plagued his thoughts as he ejected a spent ammo cartridge, before slamming a new one into the weapon receiver with mechanical precision.

12 had a job to do however, and he could not let his thinking interfere with the task at hand. Again he pressed forward with 14 and 18 in tow, warily stepping over the human bodies that lay motionless before the building door... so much needless death.

Once inside, opposition proved to be light. Only sporadic gunfire was directed toward the Domain infantry, which quickly ceased as the guards seemed to melt away. Number 12 figured that most of the defending soldiers had elected to withdraw completely from the facility altogether, which was fine by him. The fewer humans he had to kill the better.

As the three drala walked, they each began to take note of numerous red warning labels plastered all across the hallways and doors about the building. None of them were capable of reading the language inscribed across the markers, but the warning symbol was clear. There was something dangerous contained within this structure. Yet still, they pressed on.

Abruptly, Number 12 caught motion out of the corner of his reptilian eye, causing him to freeze mid-step. Carefully, he eyed the shadow that passed across a nearby window a few feet ahead of where the three soldiers stood unmoving with rifles at the ready. It seemed that the shadowy figure had not noticed their presence yet, so 12 chose to carefully proceed forward toward the nearby door leading into the adjacent room.

Swiftly 14 and 18 fell instep behind him as the three infantrymen positioned themselves for a tactical entry. They had to make sure their entrance was quick and fluid to subdue any targets within; otherwise the situation might spin hopelessly out of control.

Communicating instructions to his counterparts through hand signals, Number 12 indicated he would assume a forward looking approach into the room, while 14 and 18 covered both right and left. Once each member was clear on their task, 12 carefully leveled his rifle at the door handle... and fired.

At once his two colleagues forcefully shoved the heavy steel object open to smash against the wall, while 12 aimed his rifle forward into the space beyond. Quickly thereafter, the other two infantrymen stormed into the room somewhat awkwardly due to their bulky armor, and swiftly moved to the left and right. When they were through the threshold, he himself entered, to come face to face with a sight the drala had not expected to see.

Standing alone in the room was a single human figure. She wore a white clean suit that obscured her form almost completely, with a matching pair of boots and hood. Her attire was completed by a surgical mask covering almost her entire face and two blue nitrile gloves protecting the human's hands. The strange sight of the technician momentarily confused the Domain infantry, causing a stalemate to develop. Number 12 stared intently down the gun sight of his rifle toward the human's eyes, which grew wide with terror. Obviously, she had not expected the aliens to arrive so soon. The drala then took notice of what the technician had been doing prior to his entry.

She held a small vial of a clear liquid in hand delicately, keeping it out away from her body. Number 12 then turned his gaze down to a nearby table to find a heavy steel container lying open atop the surface. Inside the case was a foam cushion, with several additional ampoules resting in small holes in the protective padding, identical to the one held in the human's hand. Alarmingly, the steel container also had the distinctive red warning label printed across its surface multiple times... so that clear liquid was the weapon.

Suddenly, Number 12's gaze was drawn back to the female human. Her eyes blinked deliberately with a slight shake of the head, almost as if she had suddenly reached a critical decision.

To the infantryman's utter horror, the vial unexpectedly came up and flew free from the technician's hand, as she hurled the flask desperately at him.

Time seemed to slow and almost stop, while the small container sailed menacingly across the open space between them. 12 barely managed to squeeze his eyes shut, before the ampoule smashed directly against his exposed face underneath the helmet in a shattering of glass.

He waited for an explosion, or for his face to suddenly melt away... but... nothing happened. In surprise the drala opened is reptilian eyes to regard the horrified human before him.

Unexpectedly, Number 12's rifle jerked in his grasp as the weapon fired, lancing a sickening green bolt of plasma directly at the technician. He hadn't even realized his finger had squeezed the trigger.

Instantly the shot reached out and hit the intended target, causing the human's eyes to go wide with pain and shock. In muted horror, she stumbled backward to smash up against the nearby wall, her eyes never leaving his own.

A deafening silence developed, while the human then slowly slid down the wall surface sideways to crumple onto the floor. Her last sight was of her killer's horrified expression, before life finally left the technician and her gaze became hauntingly empty.

Why did she throw that ampoule at him?! Why had he shot her?! Number 12 couldn't comprehend what had just happened.

Deliberately the infantryman crossed over toward the table to inspect the opened container full of the mystery vials, while wiping the liquid from the scales of his face. Just what in the hell were these supposed to be?

Again he turned to regard the hollow eyes of the dead human. Perhaps she had just panicked and threw whatever was at hand toward him. Whatever the ampule contained, it didn't appear harmful. Uttering a deep sigh, the drala turned to his counterparts. They still had a few more rooms to clear. So 12 decided he would make sure to inform his superiors of the strange liquid when he could, but for now they still had a job to do.

And with that the three soldiers continued onward.

Unknown to Number 12... he was already dead.

The single fateful decision made by a Russian biological scientist would prove detrimental to the Domain invasion, as her choice to unleash humanity's single deadliest weapon had gone unnoticed by her victims. Already, 12 was condemned to become the harbinger of death, unknowingly helping to kill anyone around him as his fate was already sealed.

Inadvertently crossing through several breached security checkpoints, the drala had stumbled upon a cold storage room of the Russian bio research facility. Here specimen samples were kept over long term durations, perfectly isolated behind several redundant protective measures. The particular locker that the technician had been removing samples from still stood open alongside her dead body.

Dating back to the Cold War, the bio material kept inside had not been disturbed for several decades, until the sudden order had been given to remove the samples before the Domain infantry arrived. As such, the female scientist had risked her life and forgone a protective isolation suit to immediately extract the hazardous substances, unwittingly deceiving her killers to the true insidious nature of the bio weapon.

Inscribed in simple lettering on the open door's surface was a brief sentence in Russian.

"Experimental Aerosol Transmission Strain - Mutated Zaire Type B. Ebola Virus."