Author's note:

A special thanks to FuryTheRedhead, who pointed out all the shit in my fanfiction and helped me make it better. If this chapter reads any better than the last, it's thanks to him / her.

Jenni the Stryder continued its sprint along the steel beams of the ravaged refueling station. Debris marred its path, railgun rounds from Kodai's orbital defence cannons continued to tear apart the very station they were built to protect.

None of that mattered, though. What mattered was the soldier on her back and the monstrosity of a starship that would soon be waiting for her. She could see it silhouetted against the gas giant that was Carlyle, preparing to jump.

Just a little further!

She leapt from one beam to a stray panel of rubble. Another leap saw her soar through the void and onto another beam. Her left arm came up to bat smaller fragments of metal away from her face.

And then the space in front of her seemed to narrow and contract. For a moment, Carlyle was a pinprick in the distance - and then everything came rushing back and the Dawntreader loomed in front of her. A panel in the side of its hull opened like a cave at the foot of a cliff.

"Hold on tight!" she grunted to Seeley.

Jenni the Stryder's dash rockets erupted and she shot from the edge of the refueling station across the void and into the hangar.

"We're in!"

"They're in," repeated Sophia. "Punch it!"

"This is your captain speaking," giggled the Dawntreader. "Please fasten your seatbelts, stow any luggage underneath your seats and prepare for another jump in three, two, one, MARK!"

In a single instant the stars collapsed into a pinprick in the distance. The next, they were amongst them.

"ETA to Venice 3?" asked Sophia.

"That depends how fast you want to go. You wanna go really fast? You'd have to be in cryo, but I could probably make the jump in 26 hours."

"Twenty-six hours for an interstellar jump?!"

"Yep," replied the Dawntreader proudly.

"Not bad a find," commented Jenni, elevator doors sliding open to reveal the Pilot and the soldier she'd managed to evacuate. She took a couple of unsteady steps across the bridge.

"You… you okay?" asked Sophia, eyeing the Pilot from her seat.

"Yes. Why would I-" began Jenni, looking down.

She was saturated with sweat. Beads of liquid ran down her flushed face, her underarmor glistened with the liquid.

"You… look like you've been working quite hard."

Jenni laughed. "I hadn't efen noticed." She brought a hand to her forehead, closed her eyes. Exhaled. "I will be fine. I just need to rest." She took a step, collapsed into an empty seat on the bridge, and immediately fell asleep.

"No," cried Sophia, shaking her awake. "I've got something important to ask."

"Well, ask it quickly."

"We can make the jump in 26 hours, but we'd have to be in Cryo."

Jenni groaned. "Alright. You know, I really hate Cryo."

A door to the side of the bridge opened. "The Bridge's Cryopods are in here," offered the Dawntreader's AI.

Sophia helped Jenni up. The five - Sophia, Jenni, and the three soldiers that had survived the carnage - staggered over to the Cryopods.

Off came their clothes. The five were too tired to care about each other's nakedness. Each pulled the IV tube from the side of their cryopod, each slipped the needle into their arms. Sophia felt the liquid seep into her veins, felt the cold wrap around her body like a snake underneath her skin.

She dipped a leg into the cryopod's gel, realised just how numb she was already feeling. Dipped the other leg in, slid into the freezing bath. Let her breath out, dipped her head underneath the gel and inhaled.

It was kind of cold, and yet, somewhat warm. Her heart began to slow, her thoughts began to run together like water.

It's been a long day, she thought. But, we found the Dawntreader. I found the Dawntreader. Funny that. Dawn-treader. There aren't any Dawns in space. There are Dawns on planets, but not in space. What a silly name for a starship.

"I want to take control over Lawrence's Run," announced Dr. Hammond, striding into the office of Dr. Jones, the man who'd revived him from Cryosleep. "I need," the elderly engineer began, counting on his fingers, "3.2 gigagrams of plastics, 6.3 gigagrams of metal - nuclear iron should do - a gigagram of assorted synthetics, five construction barges,.. maybe... two battleships and five cruisers, just to be on the safe-"

"Wait a second." interrupted Dr. Jones, looking up from his monitor, eyes dulled in confusion. "Why the hell do-"

"Because," sighed Hammond, "the IMC board has decided to trust me. They want me to build them some legacy drives. But I've got a better idea."

"No they haven't!" cried Jones, searching through his communicator for the important message that he must have missed. "They're still in the meeting!"

"Oh, they'll decide that they want my help," dismissed Hammond. "So, when they leave that meeting," Hammond checked his watch, "...which they already have, but you'll only get the update in… what, thirty seconds' time..? When they leave the meeting, they'll tell me that they trust little ol' back-from-the-dead me, and they'll want me to build them some legacy drives."

Jones' communicator dinged. He looked at it in a mix of shock and horror.

"Tha- that's exactly… that's exactly what they decided!"

"Exactly. What kind of resources am I allowed access to?"

"Well… uhh, you're supposed to ask me for resources, and then I let you know if you can have him," Jones muttered, eyes scanning his monitor, sweat beginning to drip from his forehead. "I'm not allowed to let you know exactly how much of our resources you can have…"

Hammond put his fingers to his temples.

Hammond AI core, online. How may I help you, Sir?

What kind of resources will the IMC give me?

According to the microphones in their meeting room, they will grant you access to up their second fleet, plus everything they have on one of their manufacturing planets. No more. They are being generous in what they'll give you, but they do not wish for you to ask for all of their resources at once. They would prefer it if you requested resources as you needed them. They want to remain in control.

Thanks. Unfortunately, that's not how I work.

The whole exchange took roughly three seconds, and it looked to Dr. Jones as if Hammond had merely taken a moment to think.

"So, one fleet and one planet, if my memory serves me correctly…" Hammond muttered.

"How the fuc- I, I mean, how do you know that?" gasped Jones.

"A magician never reveals his tricks. So. What's the closest manufacturing planet to Lawrence's Run?"

"That would be Brink…"

"Very well then. I need to get to Brink as soon as possible. That is, If the IMC wants to regain control of the frontier, which I imagine it does. I need to take control over Brink, and I need to be ready to build a station around Lawrence's run. I'll be done in a few weeks, at which point the IMC's fleets should meet me there, ready for battle."

"A few weeks?" mumbled Jones weakly.

"7 days? 168 hours? Oh, I'll also need some new clothes, a transport to Brink, authorisation to mobilise the IMC's second fleet and the IMC's manufacturing barges on Brink, access to the IMC accounts to buy resources for the project… oh, and a lawyer. Can you get all that for me?"

"I - a lawyer? What for?"

"Well, the IMC is a branch of Hammond Robotics, and I was the CEO and owner of Hammond Robotics before I went into Cryosleep. I'd like to steal my company back from your employer, if that's okay. Thanks for the help!"

Hammond turned, left Jones' office with a smirk creeping across his lips.

"Decelerating to orbital speed in three, two, one, mark!"

The Crow-class Dropship's jump drives switched off and it materialised amidst the fleet of stolen Kodai starships. Its forward rockets fired and the dropship began to slow to a halt.

Outside the two fleets exchanged shots from afar. Kodai's defence fleet hung in the air to the east; the stolen starships - their autopilots now following IMC orders - orbited to the west. Railgun shots flashed through the space between them, lasers melted through radiators, missiles exploded against hulls. Each fleet was constantly moving, cycling undamaged starships to the front lines while automated repair barges sealed the torn hulls and replaced the radiators of the damaged starships.

The largest starship, a Dreadnought, hung in the middle of the IMC fleet. She had been built specifically to be the central starship of a fleet. Unlike the cuboid battleships the Dreadnought bent to the side like a banana. Its curve was its greatest asset. The long side of the curve faced toward the Kodai feet and housed the majority of the Dreadnought's armor and weaponry, in stark comparison to the battleships, whose armor and weaponry was distributed around their hulls. The shorter side of the Dreadnought, where all of the Dreadnought's exhaust vents and radiators were housed, was protected from the enemy fleet by the thicker armor curving in front of it. It would be easy to cripple the Dreadnought in an attack to its short side, if the Dreadnought were not protected by the swarms of cruisers and destroyers and frigates that made up the fleet around it. Likewise, it was incredibly difficult to cripple such a Dreadnought from its curved side, and as it just so happened, this Dreadnought's curved side faced Kodai's fleet.

An IMC cruiser lay dead in the space, its radiators unable to cope with the lasers that had been trained on it. A repair barge - only just larger than a Destroyer - made a move forward to retrieve it. A Kodai logistics cruiser warped a squadron of frigates amidst the IMC fleet; a pair of IMC destroyers broke away from their formation to pursue the troublemakers.

Aisling stared around the dropship. Two of the Three IMC pilots had survived. 22 of the original IMC soldiers had been killed over the course of the last four hours; by shrapnel, bullet or laser. She'd barely noticed them from inside the Samson, laying down their lives to protect the Assault truck with the radio dish on its roof. There were only eight IMC soldiers left, making a total of just thirteen people aboard the dropship.

"Come in, Dreadnought," said Rimjob over the Crow's lasercomms.

"Dreadnought AI speaking," replied the enormous Dreadnought's AI in a smooth, feminine voice. "How may I help you?"

"I'm your new owner," Rimjob lied. "First, you are the largest starship in my newly-purchased fleet, right?"

"Affirmative. Captain, I must interrupt. The last orders I received were to rendezvous with your dropship, even if the enemy fleet opened fire. Is this correct?"

"Yes. Minimise your losses and wait for us."

"Very well."

"Also, I'm renaming you to the IMS Restoration, and I'm raising your designation to the flagship of this fleet. If that were not clear already."

"Very well. Informing the other starships. Starships informed. Captain, you are now 30 seconds away from me. I am opening a hangar now. A suitable entrance path has been relayed to your Crow's computer."

"Thanks. We'll be inside shortly."

Danniek sat on the floor, head in hands. Aisling sat down beside him.

"Hey," she began. After a moments' silence,

"Hey," he replied.

She opened her mouth to speak but couldn't think of anything to say.

After a minute,

"I don't know what to think," he confessed. "He was… always there in front of us. Always leading. He never faltered for a second. And now…"

He grit his teeth, inhaled, exhaled.

"With him down, it's either Rimjob or Me for command. I'll be honest with you, I don't think I'm ready for that kind of responsibility."

"Nobody ever feels ready," she said, trying to reassure him. "And nobody ever is ready."

"I guess." He sighed, forced a smile for her. "Oi, Rim. ETA to the Restoration?"

"5 seconds."

"Right-o." Danniek got to his feet, helped Aisling up and grabbed a handhold as the shuttle's engines switched off, returning them to a weightless state.

The Crow began to drift inside the Restoration's open hangar.

"Captain?" came the Restoration's AI's voice. "Docking is commencing. Be advised, our fleet has taken moderate damage from the enemy fleet. Nothing we cannot repair, but enough to be a problem in further engagements. You should also know that we only have enough fuel for three jumps."

"Cool," grunted Rimjob. "Just get us out of here as soon as possible."

"Certainly," replied the Restoration. "Warp drive capacitors are at 32% and climbing."

The Crow's forward thrusters burned slightly, bringing it to a halt inside the Restoration's hangar.

"Commencing pre-jump preparations. Brace for acceleration in three, two, one, mark."

Aisling felt herself being pushed toward the Restoration's thrusters as they ignited to push the starship away from Venice 7 and toward Venice 3. Outside, the rest of the fleet began to do the same. Frigates, Corvettes and Destroyers moved inline with the Cruisers, Battleships and Dreadnoughts, their AI's each planning to capitalise on the larger starships' jump drives. Inside, the crew of the Crow found themselves falling to the floor.

"Warning," said the Restoration's AI. "This hangar is unpressurised. Please ensure that all personnel have oxygen supplies."

"Ugh, helmets on again everyone," ordered Rimjob. "Then lets get inside."

He waited a second, then pulled the Crow door open and jumped out onto the floor of the hangar. Aisling, flanked by the rest of the crew, followed him out. Felt herself being pulled to the floor by the power of the starship's thrusters.

"Restoration, where's the Bridge?" asked Danniek, helping two injured soldiers limp to the hangar airlock.

"And where's the medical room?" asked Rimjob, reaching the airlock a second later, a woman leaning on him, too.

The Airlock closed, hissed, then opened to reveal the corridor directly behind the hangar. Its interior was constructed with pipes and wires, covered with panels of plastics and synthetics. Tools and spare parts hung off the walls by velcro straps and zipties. A moment ago they had all been weightless; now they hung from the walls, the Dreadnought's fusion rockets pulling them down.

"The Bridge is up the elevator on floor 7," informed the Restoration. "The medical bay is down the elevator on floor 19. I can dispatch medical drones if you wish."

"Do it," grunted the Pilot, stumbling down the corridor with the wounded.

"I'm taking the Bridge," announced Danniek, sprinting down the corridor in the opposite direction. "Phillip," he called through the radio, "make your way to the bridge as soon as possible. Nathan, Aisling, give Rim a hand with whatever he needs. Restoration, open the elevator shaft on this floor."

Outside, the fleet extended in a long line facing its destination, the smaller starships preparing to utilise the superior warp drives of their larger allies. All began to accelerate away from Venice 7 and the other fleet that hung around it.

"Warp drive capacitors at 50% charge," called the Restoration's AI. "Be advised, the battleships in our fleet are at 72% charge."

Danniek leapt into the elevator shaft. He sprinted up the walls, jump kit flaring, feet flying underneath him.

"Restoration, open the elevator shaft door on floor 7!"

"Opening elevator shaft door on floor 7."

He caught the edge of the floor, hauled himself up and onto the floor that housed the Dreadnought's bridge. Continued his sprint across the deck to the command centre of the starship, slid into the captain's seat.

"Restoration. Divert all power to the warp drives."

"All power?" asked the Restoration. "Or a safe amount of power?"

"Everything but the medical bay. We'll survive a few minutes without life support."

"Very well. Diverting all power to warp drive capacitors and medical bay. Warp drive capacitors at 82% charge."

"Keep going. Where are the wounded?"

"Safe," replied Rimjob over the radio. "The medical drones have them."

"Good." Danniek returned his attention to the consoles in front of him. "Damage report."

Charts and figures poured onto the consoles. "Dreadnought Restoration is unscathed. Battleships one, and two have taken moderate levels of damage and will require maintenance. Battleship three is unscathed. Heavy laser platform one is unscathed. Cruisers one, two, four, six, seven and eight have taken moderate levels of damage. Cruiser five is crippled. Cruisers three and nine are unscathed. Medium laser platforms one, two, and three are unscathed. One repair barge has been destroyed. Three repair barges require resupply. Six repair barges are operational but will require resupply soon. Six destroyers have been destroyed. Four destroyers have been crippled. Ten destroyers are unscathed. 36 frigates have been destroyed. 20 frigates have been crippled. 80 frigates are unscathed."

"Gotcha. Warp drive capacitors?"

"99% char- 100%."

"Make the jump."

Every single starship in the fleet activated their warp drives at once, discharging capacitors into Einstein-Hammond mass relays. Dozens of black holes flickered into existence in an instant; space itself twisted and stretched and writhed around the fleet. Fusion rocket outputs doubled; the crew of the Restoration felt themselves be pulled downward even harder than before. The stars stretched into columns of light - and they were gone.

High above Venice 3 hung four Militia cruisers. Planetary defence cannons launched shell after shell through the atmosphere; the cruisers' computers ensuring that they dodged each shell by mere millimetres as to expend the least amount of fuel possible. Their own railguns fired back, but Venice 3's atmosphere ensured that only the largest of shells scraped their targets' armor without burning up.

Below the fleet, two enormous starships slid out of the sky.

"All personnel, we have hit the atmosphere!" announced Field Commander Graves through his communicator, gripping his armrests with white knuckles. "Repeat, we have hit the atmosphere! Evacuate the Retaliator immediately!"

I have to evacuate as many people as possible!

The Retaliator's hull blazed a blinding orange as it broke the sound barrier. Its hull - never designed for atmospheric re-entry - creaked and groaned and erupted in flames on both the outside and inside of the starship. Lifepods fled the starship in droves, their occupants clutching their hand rests and praying to whatever gods they believed in.

Merely a hundred metres away, the Austraeus - four times longer - slid out of orbit alongside the Retaliator, dwarfing the battleship. Panels of thin Borium armor tore from the Austraeus's hull and dissolved like glowing ashes. Astraeus was the Greek Titan of stars, planets and wind. Now wind tore her apart.

"ETA to ground?" growled Captain Roberts, restraints buckled tight to hold him in place on the bridge.

No response. Only the rattle and rumble of the starship through the atmosphere.

"Oh, that's right," grumbled Roberts. "Overwatch's out of power." With a flick of his left hand's fingers a calculator appeared on one console, with a flick of his right hand's fingers, statistics from the Austraeus's functional sensors appeared.

Altitude / vertical velocity should give me a rough approximation of how long we've got.

He leaned in to his communicator. "Shipwide broadcast," he rasped. "Aside from our Pilots and Titan engineers, is anyone not in a lifepod?"

"There are six engineers on floor six who are trapped under some rubble!" replied Nina Stone frantically.

Altitude's 60 kilometres… velocity's at 7.5 kilometres per second… but not all of that'll be directly downward, we're mostly still orbiting. I've got 20 minutes, judging from the camera feed from outside.

The Austraeus's hull was melting into a single mass, its armor gone. Hangar doors caved in, allowing the heat to enter the starship itself. Airlocks failed, support beams vaporised.

"Screw it! Titan pilots, you are cleared for launch! Lifepods, launch when the Titans fall!"

Hopefully, anyone watching won't notice the larger Titan pods amidst the lifepods.

"But Sir-" began Stone, "The engineers!"

"They can launch if they manage to escape!" roared Roberts. "Launch now!"

"Titan pilots, you are cleared for launch!" crackled Robert's voice over the radio.

An IMC pilot looked over at his mechanic. The mechanic nodded, and the Pilot nodded back. Climbed up into his Atlas's cockpit, flicked the startup switch.

"Titan boot successful. Drop mode initiated."

"All Titans!" shouted a mechanic on the floor of the titan hangar, addressing the docile Titans. "Confirm that you're ready to drop!"

Each pilot keyed in their combination of trigger pulls and pedal bumps to confirm that yes, they were ready to dive.

"Alright! We're loading you into your drop pods now!"

The mechanic ducked as sparks erupted from a light above his head. Mechanics began to load each crouching Titan into a drop pod.

"Titan Lucy is ready to drop!" roared one mechanic.

"Dropping!" called its Pilot, pulling the triggers on her joysticks.

"Titan Lucy away!"

"Titan Ramses is ready to drop!"

"Dropping!" called the Pilot named Ramseys, pulling his triggers.

"Titan Ramses away!"

Something on one of Graves' consoles caught his eye. He looked up, saw hundreds of life pods erupt from the Austraeus like fireworks. For some curious reason, some life pods were bigger than others.

But there was no time to contemplate this. A fire erupted on the bridge of the Retaliator, sparks flew from one of the doors to the bridge, panels of metal dropped from the roof.

Time to go.

Graves hauled himself out of his seat, clambered over the rubble that had began to collect on the floor of the bridge. Took a left as he exited, lurched down a corridor toward the last life pod remaining in the Retaliator as the starship shook itself apart around him. He pulled the pod's door shut, buckled his restraints, and pulled the launch lever.

"Titan Badger is ready to drop!" announced another IMC mechanic.

"Drop-" began its Pilot.

With a deep whine the Austraeus tore in two. Eight Titans and the corpses of their mechanics toppled out of the breach and hit the atmosphere outside. The mechanics were burned to crisps instantly; the Titans' shields fizzled in seconds. Just enough time to slow to a survivable speed.

"Have the Titans dropped?" Captain Roberts asked his communicator.

No response. Then,

"-Split in two, Sir!"

There's nothing I can do now, Roberts thought, hauling himself from his seat and pulling himself into a lifepod off the Bridge.

With any luck, he thought, strapping himself in, when these starships hit the ground, we'll be able to control the crash site with our Titans. I just hope that Graves thought first to evacuate his crew and not to get his Titans out.

He pulled the launch lever and with a woosh the pod launched itself from the Austraeus.

"There's only one thing for it," Zeta commed, eyeing the soldiers, sniper and Titan that guarded the captured IMC civilians in Cloud Square. "Two arc grenades. One on the Sniper, one on the Titan. Should take out their visuals for a few seconds."

"But there are still 25 soldiers down there. Even if 24 of them get caught in the blast, that's still one killing our soldiers."

"We could shoot him before he does…"

"Too risky," declared Bruce. "We need to do this clean."

"Well, maybe there's some way of using the Titan?" suggested Zeta. "If we could get inside it-"

"Then Venice's police would shoot all of our civilians before we could do anything."

"Damn. Wait, no. What if we just piloted the Titan away? We could tell the police that we're going to check something out but need backup. That gets rid of 10 of them."

"And the other fiftee-" began Bruce.

"Wait as second," gasped Zeta. "Look."

Bruce looked.

"Fuck me," he breathed.

"It's really falling."

"Holy shit."

Smoke trailed from the Austraeus and the Retaliator's sides, metal melted and oozed off the starships' hulls. They slid through the sky, two unstoppable behemoths on a collision course with the ground.

In front of their eyes the Austraeus split in two. Steel beams and life pods and munitions crates and dropships and armor plating littered the sky in her wake.

"There's gonna be an earthquake," muttered Zeta, eying up the starships' trajectories.

They're gonna crash on the hills to the East of Alpha. Just past where we launched the probes.

"Okay, here's the plan," she began. "When those two starships crash, the shit's going to hit the fan. I imagine that half of these guys" - she motioned to the Venice 3 police below her - "are going to be called to secure the crash site. The Titan'll probably have to go, too."

"So we go in then? That's still not good enough. There are still 25 of them."

"No. Instead, we go for the Titan."

"Huh?"

"If I jump on the Titan's back and stick it with my Electric Katana, its shields will die in seconds. The Pilot will be real confused. He might even come out. When he does, you shoot him, and I get in the Titan."

"And if he doesn't?"

"Then I stick the Katana through his cameras. I'll make him come out."

"Okay…"

"I get the Titan. We return to Cloud Square. We make up some bullshit about how the AutoTitan is malfunctioning, and we can't stop the damn thing. 'Oh no, it's going to stomp through Cloud Square and crush everyone!' "

"Uhhh…"

" 'Shoot at the Titan!' " continued Zeta. " 'It's the only way to stop it! There's a weak point in the knees!' or some other shit. Then, when they're all reloading, you drop an arc grenade on the Sniper. Hilt and the other guys start shooting at the policemen who still have full magazines. I shoot the Titan's chaingun at everyone else. We kill 25 of them in 5 seconds. Easy."

"Are you sure about this?"

"You got a better idea?"

"No…"

"Well, you've got until that Titan gets called away to think of a better one."