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Ok ok... so this one and the next one have been kinda sitting on my harddrive for a while, completely done, and I do apologize for the delay in posting them. Kinda had a lot to deal with in my life all of a sudden and before I knew it, weeks had gone by. Anyway...

I hope you enjoy them.

As always, comments are appreciated and requested.

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Continued from 'Victory at Sython...'

11-18-3015

Time Index; 1934 hours GST

TFV prototype Zephyr

Asgard system, Terran space

Shaking my head, coming out of the stupor I drifted into, I looked around the office, my brain forgetting for a moment where I was and what I had been doing. When my eyes landed on the words and columns of numbers displayed above the desk before me, it came back quickly enough, much to my displeasure. In truth, it was my own stupid fault, having neglected the largest part of my administrative duties for weeks now in favor of doing practical things, things that seemed to matter a whole lot more than reports, facts and figures. I, and I was sure that the majority of senior command and flag officers agreed, that administrative duties were what staff officers were for, and that we should be left to actually command the units we were in charge of. And, I had to hand it to Major Dillinger and the other staff officers in my command, they handled a huge amount of the boring details. But, it was an unfortunate truth that even though I had better things to do than read through report after boring report, and review vast files of figures and statistics, there were many decisions that only a General had the authority to make, and to even understand the decision that had to be made, to say nothing of making it a good one, I had to have the facts and figures and reports and so on and so forth...

The last three days, ever since I had come back from visiting with Admiral Tack and Doctor Taggart in fact, had been filled with trying to wade through all the decisions I had left unmade until now, until the reports and files had started to blend together into one big pile of uninteresting mess that seemed to act like mental quicksand. Even the fanfare of the Zephyr being moved under tow from the Prometheus shipyard to the main space dock hadn’t done much to interrupt the monotony. This last one in particular was giving me no end of trouble. The decision was important enough, deciding where and how to stage supplies for the various fighter groups under my charge, a decision I knew could be the difference between squadrons having the supplies they needed to win battles and being slaughtered because they didn’t have the ammo or fuel or spare parts they needed.

But making the decision meant knowing how much of everything every squadron had, how much they were likely to go through in the next campaigns, how much was available, where depots could be located, and most boring of all, how much supply was in each operational area. And that meant reading report after dry report, thankfully summarized by my logistics officer, or I might have gone out of my mind. The report currently hovering above my desk was a long list of available starfighter munitions earmarked for the Cygnan sector and I had gotten about halfway down the list before it had kind of blurred together into a meaningless jumble and my brain had wandered off in search of something far more interesting, though I couldn’t really remember what that was either, the daydream clearing away quickly. A series of three tones sounding from the door controls outside the office a second time, indicating that I had a visitor, served to remind me what had brought me out of the pleasant daydream and back into boring reality.

“Open.” I said, thankful for anything that might save me from drowning in red tape, even for a little while. The office door slid open at my command and I was surprised to see Admiral Tack standing there. Rising to my feet and reflexively saluting, I continued, greeting my friend. “Admiral, come in, come in.”

“Relax, General.” The older man said, returning my salute. Scanning the information hovering between us for a moment, the old officer grinned. “I didn’t interrupt anything important, I hope.”

“Just trying to figure out supply for the fighter division.” I replied, waving a hand over the desk, making the file minimize down to a small 3d cube in the lower corner of the display. “Honestly, I was hoping for something to distract me.”

“I sympathize.” The admiral said, dropping into a spare chair. “Thankfully, that particular subject is just something I have to approve, rather than making the decision myself. Naval logistics has its own system that works pretty efficiently, and I have found it wise not to mess with it, unless I really have to.”

“I wish I could do the same.” I stated, shaking my head. Honestly, why the Marine Corps had its own supply system came down far more to the pride of the service than anything to do with efficient organization. When the Terran Federation had first come into being, the various ground and space combat organizations that had been melded together to create the Terran Federation Marine Corps, long subordinate to, or at least looked down on by, their respective Navies, had demanded that they finally be truly autonomous, everything, from training facilities to supply and pay, kept separate from the ‘arrogant spacers’ who had treated them with so little respect for so long. All well and good on paper, but practically, it would have been a whole lot simpler to have a single supply chain for the whole military. “What brings you by, sir?”

“Well, two things really.” The other officer replied, his voice betraying an eagerness I didn’t often hear in experienced officers. “First, I wanted to take a look at the Zephyr. I have to say, its not like any other ship I’ve ever seen. If the Endeavor had half of this ship’s advanced systems in place, it would be unstoppable.”

“I’m glad that you approve of her, Admiral. You are always welcome aboard.” I replied, grinning. The man was at least twice my age, and still he acted like a teenager when seeing a new ship. “And the second reason?”

“I had a thought that I wanted to run by you while I was reviewing candidates for the open commands in my fleet.” He said, offering me a data chip. Plugging the device into the reader set into my desk, I waited for it to bring up the index, which turned out to contain almost three hundred personnel jackets, marked with Naval and Marine rank notations with everything from general sailors and privates all the way up to senior officers. The file at the top of the list popped up on its own, displaying a Naval officer wearing the three stripes of a Commander. He looked much the same as many other officers I had seen, but there was something in his face, an unusual hardness, that stood out in my mind. “These files are all of the surviving crew members off the Kodiak.”

“Oh really?” I asked, scrolling down the file, scanning it with increasing interest.

Almost everyone in the Terran Federation had heard of the battlecruiser Kodiak by now, and its performance in the near disaster over Victoria, an outer colony that the Merxians had captured six months ago. The Kodiak and its sister ship, the Grizzly, had been the lead ships of a joint strike group that had intended to relieve the besieged garrison on the planet, only to find when they got there that the garrison had surrendered days before, and a large Merxian fleet was in orbit, staging for a deeper invasion of the sector. Rather than fall back, as would have been the prudent thing to do, the two battle groups had attacked, recklessly charging into the middle of the enemy fleet, despite being outnumbered and outgunned more than three to one. In the ensuing battle, the Grizzly had been badly damaged and boarded, and in a valiant bid to protect its sister ship, the Captain of the Kodiak had interposed the relatively lightly armored vessel directly between the remaining Merxians and the other Battlecruiser. Unsurprisingly, the Kodiak had soon been disabled as well, and, intending to claim the unimaginably valuable prize of two intact Terran Battlecruisers, three Merxian heavy cruisers, the greater part of the remaining heavy combatants of the assembling fleet, had docked with the stricken ship.

But, to the Merxian’s surprise, the Kodiak’s crew didn’t wait around on the defensive like they obviously expected. The second the cruisers’ boarding parties had forced their way through the Battlecruiser’s hull and airlocks, the Kodiak crew had suddenly counter-charged, boarding them instead. The fighting had lasted through twelve hours of bitter close quarters combat, often devolving into vicious hand to hand brawls for control of vital areas as ammo and power packs ran low, the Terran Marines and Naval ratings fighting back and forth with their Merxian counter parts, all four ships being boarded time and again as the battle had see-sawed across them. When all was said and done, the Kodiak crew had suffered almost ninety percent casualties, leaving them with barely enough crew members left to run the ship, but, of the three enemy ships locked in combat with them, one crew had been wiped out to the last man, another cruiser had cut the moorings and fled, leaving a huge portion of its crew behind as prisoners, and the remaining ship had surrendered outright.

Then, the heavily damaged Kodiak had managed to escape the fight, towing out the two heavy cruisers the crew had captured, while the rest of the Merxian fleet had been distracted with the rest of the fight. The battle had done serious damage to the Merxian invasion fleet, undoubtedly blunting their momentum in that sector. The hellish action aboard the Battlecruiser had netted the surviving crew and Marine Internal Security detachment more than four hundred decorations for individual valor, including fifteen Naval Crosses and six Legions of Distinguished Valor, the second highest awards for the Navy and Marine Corps, respectively, and, most likely, the review boards would change some of them to Medals of Honor eventually. But, on balance, the Grizzly and eleven out of eighteen escorts, including four valuable heavy cruisers and numerous irreplaceable veterans, had been lost in the battle. Had the Captain of the Kodiak survived, he would probably have faced an inquiry, and might even have been brought up on charges in a courts martial for his questionable decisions during the battle. But, he and every other senior officer aboard, with the exception of the one Commander whose file I was reading, had perished in the fighting, so instead of being vilified, he was counted as a hero.

“As you have probably heard, the Kodiak was deemed unsalvageable and has been decommissioned. As a result, the crew has been waiting for a new assignment.” Tack continued, leaning back in his chair. “Fleet headquarters is thinking of splitting them up; god knows, we need experienced replacements on almost every ship. But, I prefer to keep brave crews like this one together. I would like to assign them to the Zephyr, so they could fill out the senior ranks and provide a veteran core for the green crewmembers that have been working aboard her since she was rebuilt.”

“I like that idea, sir.” I replied, nodding. It actually solved a great many problems I had been thinking about. The crew that had worked aboard the Zephyr at the Prometheus shipyard had tested every system on numerous shakedown cruises, and so knew how to work the ship better than any crew I could have assembled from other units. But with a few notable exceptions like Pride, the closest any of them had come to combat were war games and simulations, which couldn’t ever truly prepare them for the real thing. And if there was one thing that had been learned in this war, it was that totally green crews rarely performed well the first time they saw fire. But, if they had a core of veterans who had seen some of the toughest fighting of the war to rally around... “Before I make the decision though, I want to meet the temporary CO in person, this... Commander Cornell. I need to be able to bring him into our little group, or there is no way I can have him on board.”

“Understandable.” Tack said, rising from his seat. “I’ll make the arrangements for a meeting. Oh, Taggart wanted me to ask, did you make your selection for Chief Medical Officer yet?”

“Oh, yes, thank you for reminding me.” I said, the question bringing back to my mind something I had left undone. I had spent what little time I hadn’t been wading through endless reports looking over the files of medical personnel the Doctor had recommended and I had finally made a choice. “I was going to send the transfer requests to her. I was thinking I would ask Lieutenant Commander Lee to head up the department.”

“Good choice, I think. I have been telling Taggart that Dr. Lee has been ready for a CMO post for a while. She is an excellent surgeon. I’ll relay the message.” The admiral paused a moment, then grinned, a teasing look in his eye. “Well General, I think I have kept you from the exciting world of supply chain management for long enough today. I’ll send you a message when I have arranged a meet for you and Cornell.”

“Thanks Admiral.” I replied dryly and he laughed, giving a wave on his way out the door. Sighing, I reached out and ‘grabbed’ the cube, flicking it into the air with my wrist, bringing up the supply list again and resolutely focused my brain on the task of absorbing the rest of the boring information...

***

11-18-3015

Time Index; 2100 hours GST

Sython Planetary Garrison Headquarters

Sython system, Merxian space

Tyr strode through the door held open by the MP, forcing his expression to remain neutral as he walked to the cleared space in the center of the conference room. Facing him, seated behind a table that had obviously been pressed into service for the occasion, were three flag officers, two Marine Generals and an Admiral, their expressions unreadable, holographic displays shimmering before them, currently empty. The coyote Ranger had been in this situation before, twice in fact, but it never got any easier. Whenever any unplanned situation arose, especially one that resulted in significant casualties, it was protocol to convene a board of inquiry as soon as possible. But he had never been entirely comfortable under the judgment of officers who hadn’t been involved in the situation in question. It always felt like they either wanted him to be guilty of something, or else that they thought they could have fought the battle better than him, even if he had done everything right. Coming to a stop before the board and snapping a crisp salute, his fatigues as pressed as he could get them, Tyr waited a moment before speaking.

“Colonel Tyr Asanderin, reporting as ordered.” He said, waiting for the General third rank in the middle to return the salute.

“At ease Colonel.” The snow leopard ordered and Tyr folded his hands above the base of his tail. “As you are aware, the purpose of this inquiry is to sort out the details of the engagement of 11-16, on, and in orbit of, Planet Sython. Most of the details have already been provided by other witnesses, which have corroborated the reports submitted about the battle. However, there are several points that only you can provide information on, being the active ground commander in the engagement. You have permission to speak as freely and candidly as possible, but you are to answer truthfully, Colonel. As per protocol, your mind will be passively scanned to detect any falsehoods or omissions made during your testimony, either intentional or accidental. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir.” Tyr replied, taking a breath before lowering his mind’s defenses. Immediately, he detected the touch of another mind on his, the alien sensation making him want to act, to try and throw it back out immediately, but he restrained the urge. A moment later, as the new presence settled over his mind like the brief touch of fog, the General continued.

“First, we would like to congratulate you on the performance of your unit during the engagement.” He began, “Considering the casualties that had already been suffered by your Rangers, as well as the unusual circumstances of the engagement, the behavior and performance of your soldiers surpassed even what is expected of the Special Operations command and a unit citation is already in the works. Now then, in your report, you singled out a small unit of Rangers for special recognition, which included your executive officer. Can you elaborate on the reason for their direct mention in your report?”

“Yes sir.” Tyr said, allowing the unseen psychic sensor probing his mind to see what he remembered of the helmetcam footage that Major Larn’s group had relayed to his command vehicle. “The HVIs we were seeking during the battle, that of the mercenary commander and his employer, had taken refuge on an upper floor of the administration tower, out of reach for conventional tactics such as a ground assault or dropship raid. The Rangers I singled out in my report all agreed to attempt an unusual tactic that had been developed earlier in the war, under the title of ‘Operation Blackblade’.” The lone admiral and the general chairing the inquiry looked blank at the name, but the other general perked up in surprise and Tyr took a moment to glance at her uniform, not surprised to see the Ranger insignia picked out proudly on her left breast, beneath her name plate. “This tactic involved a high risk insertion into a target building’s upper floors, directly into the side of the building, as opposed to on a balcony or roof, as in a traditional insertion. This tactic was deemed too dangerous for regular use, but nonetheless, Major Tor’sek and the others executed it perfectly, allowing us to avoid all but a few light casualties during our final assault, by capturing the enemy’s leaders early in the fight, precipitating the capitulation of the enemy.”

“I see.” The General said, the same footage that the psychic was seeing popping up on the holodisplays before the board. Tyr was pleased on Larn’s behalf when the Admiral winced at the sight of the towering wolf slamming the mercenary into the wall with his shoulder, shaking his head in amazement. “Most impressive, indeed. Moving on to the second point.”

The officer paused a moment, another video file popping up instead, displaying the computer core as the doors were finally coaxed into opening by the engineer. Tyr let his mind drift slightly, focusing on the details of the assault on the Black Claw’s fortress for a moment, the images flashing by quickly before he dismissed them, giving the watching psychic the impression that he was distracted. Contrary to popular imagination, and what psychics would like people to believe, it was actually possible to slip a lie past a passive psychic scan, even if it was a class four doing the scanning, but it was a difficult proposition at the best of times, and required a great deal of care. The coyote really hoped he wouldn’t have to lie, but this was one subject he didn’t want to take the chance on. He felt the probe of his mind dismiss the images as well, pushing a little on his consciousness as it did so, focusing on sorting the current subject from the background images, narrowing its focus slightly.

“The computer database contained on the core you confiscated contained a large number of files, many pertaining to the Black Claw Securities Group.” The general began and Tyr purposely called to mind another flash flood of images, everything he had ever heard or seen about the Black Claws flooding across his mind. This one, he let linger for a few moments, focusing on a few random tidbits. For a moment, he felt the psychic presence withdraw slightly, then it came back with a very noticeable pressure, suddenly focused, its attention on details, instead of performing a true scan, the focus shielding it from the bewildering flood of images. Smiling inwardly, Tyr finally stemmed the tide of images, knowing the sensor was doing exactly what he wanted it to do. “However, there appear to be a number of files tied to something more; what appears to be a clandestine organization of some sort. Do you have any information on such an organization?”

“I only had a chance to skim the titles of the files, sir, looking for anything of value during our battle with the Black Claws.” Tyr replied, which was perfectly true. He still hadn’t had a chance to go through the files they had retrieved. The sensor latched onto that statement, probing it for falsehoods, but soon withdrew, finding none. The trouble with passive scans, especially ones from a psychic slightly on the defensive like he had forced this sensor to be, was that, while they could detect outright lies, they also had trouble catching when someone left out something from the truth. It took a truly gifted sensor to be instinctually immune to such a trick. And, since this one didn’t try to bore in past his statement, he or she wasn’t quite that gifted. “I did notice that they discussed such an organization, but it didn’t seem relevant to the task at hand, so I left the files alone.”

“You did the right thing, Colonel.” The general assured him, and Tyr had to fight hard to keep his mind from puzzling over his tone. While the response was what one would expect from an officer chairing an inquiry, there was something else in his tone of voice, a little, faint hint of suppressed relief, that made Tyr suspicious. Stifling the feeling quickly before it come to prominence, he waited for the next question. “We only have one more point we would like clarified Colonel, but it is also the most important. The orders given to your battalion were to report to the supply depot on Seranus for refit and resupply. Yet, instead, you issued orders to take the Adaron and your battalion to Sython instead. What is more, you took it upon yourself to investigate one of the largest corporations in the Alliance, which directly precipitated the battle. On what authority did you take such actions, Colonel? You are aware that, given your rank, you do not possess the authority to countermand direct deployment orders for your unit, are you not?”

“Yes sir, I am aware.” Tyr said, then paused to compose his mind. Truthfully, it had been extremely reckless to do what he had done, but, it was necessary. Just not for entirely legal reasons. “However, I did not countermand orders to make such an investigation.”

“Excuse me?” The wolf admiral exclaimed, glaring at the coyote. “Whose orders exactly demanded that you lead a transport ship into a three-on-one battle with frontline warships, Colonel?!”

“Explain your remark, colonel.” The General in charge ordered, looking admonishingly at the Naval officer.

“Sir, in our previous circumstances, being involved in the incident aboard Colyon Prime station, I discovered that the head of the black marketeers had in his possession a case of RD-86A.” At that pronouncement, all three officers looked taken aback. Taking a breath, Tyr began to recite from memory the order he had looked up the night before, one that he had only barely remembered even existed. “Pursuant to General Order 159, ‘All command officers who encounter a category 4 hazardous substance, are required to immediately use any and all resources under their charge to trace said substances back to their source for immediate destruction, under convention nine of the Universal Medical Treaty, regarding the treatment of artificially created hazardous materials.’ RD-86A is in fact the most common example given for a category 4 substance, sir. I therefore deemed the application of Order 159 to be of higher priority than the refit of my unit.”

“What?!” the admiral exclaimed, looking surprised. “Please tell me you are not trying to justify your actions with that kind of technicality. General Order 159 was intended for peacetime application only, and you know it.”

“That may be true, Admiral.” The former Ranger general interrupted, “But as you are well aware, the declaration of war did not rescind or countermand any of the General Orders, not even the ones dealing with standard rules of engagement. Colonel Asanderin’s actions were well within the bounds of Order 159.”

“Nevertheless, we lost most of a good crew and many good marines in a battle that should never have happened.” The Admiral argued. “A battle that was directly precipitated by you, Colonel.”

“Admiral, you are being ridiculous.” The General chairing the discussion commented, cutting off the Naval officer before Tyr could even feel a flash of anger at his insinuations. To hear the wolf talk, you would have thought Tyr had demanded the mercenaries to attack him. “All of the testimony we have heard has made it clear that there is no reasonable way the Colonel’s actions could be interpreted as being threatening. Therefore, the attack on the Adaron and his battalion of Rangers is nothing short of unprovoked aggression. And Colonel Asanderin and his Rangers did exactly what we ask of them on a daily basis; they won, despite the odds.” Looking sullen, the Admiral subsided, sitting back in his chair as if he was sulking. “Colonel, there is no evidence that you did anything improper, and while your undertaking an investigation was unorthodox, it was also in keeping with the behavior we expect of our Special Operations soldiers. While the inquiry into this battle will be ongoing for some time, it is the judgment of this panel that your actions were justified. You are dismissed.”

“Sir.” Tyr said, coming to attention and saluting before turning and walking back out of the room. When the door shut behind him, the coyote officer let out a long breath, relieved that his part was over with. Looking around the room, the tan furred face of Lieutenant Colonel Per’alt caught his eye and he smiled, giving a nod to the other officer. With the ‘foreign’ troops’ actions having been examined, now it was the turn of the planetary garrison, but Tyr wasn’t worried. Although there was no actual standing order to do so, the instinct for Marines to leap into the fray to help other Marines had been ingrained in them in Basic training literally for millennia. The garrison units would actually have been in greater trouble if they hadn’t joined in the fight.

When the other coyote returned his smile, the Ranger commander continued on out of the waiting room, his mind puzzling over the odd tone he had caught in the General’s voice when they had discussed the files he had located. It was such a disconnect for the officer to feel relieved at him not going through them. It could have just been relief that he wouldn’t have to be debriefed about what he had found, which inevitably would have ended up being a very long, and very involved process, but then why would he try and conceal that feeling? Turning left and heading in the direction of the doors leading out into the pleasant, free air of Sython, Tyr kept thinking it over. It was around midday on this part of the planet and, in a temperate summer like this one, it was truly a fine time to be outdoors, especially after a month of fighting on an arctic world.

Running the conversation over in his head once more, Tyr began puzzling over the moment one more time, trying to find any explanation except the obvious, troubling one that could explain it. But, as he absently returned the salute of a passing Marine orderly, the coyote frowned. No matter which way he tried to look at it, it all came back to the same conclusion. There was only one reasonable explanation he could come up with for the General wanting to hide being relieved by no one having read the files. Suddenly, as he walked out into the reception area of the admin building, Tyr felt a chilly, prickly sensation run down his spine and he looked to his left, almost jumping out of his pelt when he found someone walking beside him on that side.

“Damnit, Larn...” Tyr exclaimed, shaking his head. Despite his size, the giant wolf could move awfully quietly when he wanted to. “How many times have I told you to stop sneaking up on me?”

“I’ve lost count.” The wolf rumbled, his statement almost nonchalant in its delivery. “How did it go sir?”

“About as well as it could have.” Tyr replied, slipping his uniform cap onto his head as the pair stepped out of the building and into the bright sunshine. “Our actions were justified, or so says the review board.”

“Of course they were.” Tor’sek stated, the pair walking out into the well manicured park before the doors to the building. “By the way, General Jes’ic said she would meet us around here. I believe she had something she wanted to talk to us about.”

“Good.” Tyr replied, nodding. “I have something I want to mention to her too. Something just came up relating to our other mission.”

“Oh?” Larn asked, raising his eyebrows. “So soon? I thought you said it was still in the preliminary stages sir.”

“It is.” Tyr confirmed, shading his eyes for a moment and then grinning when he saw a familiar flight suit clad vixen up ahead, walking in their direction. “But I might have accidentally stumbled on something.”

“Hello you two.” Katy said, returning the two Ranger officer’s salutes. “I assume by your expression that the inquiry is over.”

“Yes ma’am.” Larn rumbled respectfully and the pilot fell in step beside them as they kept walking along the path.

“How are your Rangers?” She asked and Tyr grinned.

“Enjoying some well deserved R and R.” Tyr replied, a fond memory of their shared days in the infantry coming back to him for a moment. “Probably halfway through drinking the local bars dry by now.”

“No doubt.” Katy replied, laughing.

“On a more serious note, I want to get your opinion on something.” Tyr continued, then, when his old friend nodded for him to continue, he started to explain about the odd detail he had noticed. “Just now in the inquiry, General 3rd Rank Mis’ker asked me about the data core we recovered, and when I said we had only glanced at the contents briefly, he sounded relieved, but he did his best to hide it so I only caught a hint of it. It might be nothing, but then again...”

“Why hide it?” Katy agreed, frowning for a moment as she mulled it over in her head. “I think you are right to be concerned. What do you think, major?”

“Well...” Larn began, looking down. “The only thing I can think of, given what you have told me about this...problem... Its my guess that he hid his relief because there is something in the files he doesn’t want us to find. And I can only imagine that means that he is involved in some fashion.”

“That is my guess too.” Katy replied, nodding. “Even if it’s only that he was being paid off to ignore their activities in this system, it is worth checking into.” The trio fell silent as a few other soldiers passed them, some glancing in awe at Larn as they walked.

“Well, the Major here mentioned that you had something you wanted to talk to us about?” Tyr inquired when the passersby were out of ear shot.

“Yes.” Katy replied, shaking her head, bringing her thoughts back to the present. “I had a thought while you were cloistered for the inquiry. With the Adaron in such bad shape after the battle, your Rangers are sort of without a home, and stuck here until command figures something out, right?”

“Yes General.” Tyr confirmed, keeping to appearances, since all of them were technically still on duty. “Its a real shame. The Adaron was a good ship.”

“Indeed, it was.” The vixen replied, “But, with the Yunius’s Marines currently occupied securing the Black Claw vessels for the foreseeable future, and the Yunius to be ordered out of the system soon, I suddenly find my command ship with quite a lot of empty room. More than enough to accommodate a full battalion, I think. I checked the regs on the subject and there doesn’t seem to be a reason why a Special Ops unit can’t ship aboard a Battlecruiser.”

“I can’t think of one either, ma’am.” Tyr replied, a grin starting to tug on the corner of his mouth. “Larn, any objection?”

“Seems like a good match, sir.” The huge wolf replied, a trace of humor creeping into his voice.

“Excellent.” Katy said, grinning as well. “I’ll have my staff put the request through to command. We should be able to arrange a refit on the way to our next destination...”