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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Risesohigh33 on 2026-02-20 16:17:05+00:00.
(Author's note: for an extra little juice reading this chapter, listen to "The Book" by Glum Aleks. It was on repeat in my earbuds as I typed.)
A mass of humanity dominates my vision.
Standing atop a platform that extends out from the stairs down to the floor of the hanger, I am flanked by James and Klara. Each is wearing a Fireborn uniform, not yet in armor. Matteo is directly behind me. I just got done speaking to him on the walk to the hanger. We were going over final checks for the gunship he's piloting that will carry one of our teams. I am on a gun.
Hector looms behind us with Captain Fazoon and a few other chosen captains, radiating heat and anger. Augustus' grandson has been stewing for days. He's itching for a fight.
I will be happy to have him by my side, because he is with us. He, along with a few others, volunteered once our plan was revealed to the fleet commanders, though not the fleet in total. Sensitive information.
I could see the pain on Augustus' face when she granted his request. She was in no place to tell him no--I have learned that Hector is a hurricane of violence and a perfect fit for our escort. His is a veteran of seven spheres in three systems, beyond proficient with any sort of field equipment and so overly physical in close-quarters combat that I do not see how one could stand against him.
Hector served in the vanguard of Fireborn Legion from the tender age of eighteen to twenty-three, as many in his family do. He represented them all well. Better or worse yet--depending on which side you're on here--a man that large should also not be that quick. I have seen him train. Spare with James and Klara.
He deserves to be on this elite team. Still, she is his grandmother, so I cannot blame her hesitancy to let him join us.
Viola, I notice, is absent. Probably with Lily, as she has been for much of this. Viola knows as much as the rest of us that this fight could kill us. She also had to say goodbye to her daughter, as Augustus told me the little girl will be exiting the fleet just before jump. She will be escorted to a safe house that only Senator Augustus, Viola and the team that is transporting her will know. There are contingencies for her safety if we lose.
If Augustus believes she will be safe, I have to as well. Still, I will worry for the little Terran. she's just a child.
Most of the ships in this hanger have been lowered into their holding stations beneath the floor, both to prepare for final checks and to give Senator Augustus this stage. To fit this collection of five thousand killers. And so the bodies stretch and stretch.
In the other, massive hanger, another three thousand wait. They are watching via some massive hologram projected into the air.
All of them have come from this ship and others to stand here. They are aligned in row after meticulous row. All of them are armored, standing a foot taller than their typical heights, weighing an extra two hundred pounds. They are all equipped with enough weaponry to decimate a city block.
Some of them will be tasked with assaulting and boarding enemy ships. Just over fifty of them will be in our party. Another group has orders to defend our capital ships, because our enemy will attempt to board just as we will.
These are monsters, killers, heroes. These are commanders, captains, commandos, pilots and infantry. These are gunners, assassins, snipers and bridgebreakers. These are proper Terrans.
And they are Fireborn, all. This is how the Nightmare went to war, with one last, united, desperate roar into the void. So Senator Augustus will, too.
I cannot help but be struck with the awe that this species is able to wake within me. Proud as my people are, we are nothing against these Terrans. But, as I am learning, Gyn and human can work together and prosper. It is one of the many lessons these people have taught me.
It is no wonder they have taken so many allies. And no wonder why their many enemies quake in fear. Because from behind the formation, a single fist rises into the air. My eyes strain to see so far away, even though I know who it is.
Senator Augustus does not wear armor, because she will command the Devil's Warden from its bridge. She strides forward to the open, middle lane of the formation wearing a black jacket and black pants. Her face is crossed from forehead to jaw with three stripes of deep, purple paint. It is the symbol of the Nightmare himself.
The powerful woman is going to war in the name of her most famous ancestor. With his own mark. In the name of the most famous son in humanity's history. Her enemies will see this and know her vocation. I cannot imagine they will be pleased, because Augustus is stating that the Nightmare would bless her campaign.
And as she comes level with the back of her formation, Augustus hammers her fist into her chest. I hear nothing. But then the back line of the formation, as she passes, collectively raises their fists in unison before slamming them into their armor.
That I hear. THUMP.
She passes another line, keeping her eyes forward, head high. Fist to chest. Thump.
Another three lines of Terrans echo her. THUMP.
As she continues, Augustus quickens her fist, slamming it twice into her breast. Thump-thump.
Her army echoes her. THUMP-THUMP.
Thump-thump-thump.
THUMP-THUMP-THUMP.
Thump-thump...thump-thump.
THUMP-THUMP...THUMP-THUMP.
She's closing in on our platform now, perhaps fifty or so feet away and fifty below. As she reaches the very front of her formation, I cannot help but believe it is the very heartbeat of her people that carries her forward. It's defiance is manifest in the precise, devastating, echoing quake that shakes that hanger from the armored fists slamming into armored chests.
Augustus hits the stairs, and all the Terrans around me begin to beat their chests. Without hesitation, I do the same. She climbs slowly but deliberately, refusing to lower her eyes. She is the master of this ship, after all. It isn't long before Augustus is climbing the final steps and bringing herself onto our platform.
She nods at each of us, and when my eyes meet hers, I see the murder in them. Then she is turning back to her host, finally raising an open hand. All of the thumping, all of the noise, is silenced in no more than a moment.
Quiet takes hold. And then Augustus is speaking.
"My friends! My brothers and sisters! My Fireborn!" she roars, her voice amplified by some device on her jacket.
STOMP.
The armor punching the floor makes it shake, even for me and this far away from them. I can't help but look down. Smile. Admire the strength.
"It is now that we go to war, now that we refuse to yield," Augustus says, her eyes scanning. "We go to war as our ancestors did, with the blood hot in our veins. Let not anyone say that this was our first choice! Do not let anyone tell you that you fight for anything but justice!"
STOMP. STOMP.
"Your officers have told me that none of you have chosen to sit out this fight!" Augustus lets emotion seep into her voice. It is real, honest and raw. She is inspired by their faith. "I did not expect this belief, nor do I feel I deserve it. But I shall not waste it. I will not forget it!"
One, huge, monstrous STOMP.
"And yet, I know the perils we are about to face! I know our enemy and its strength! I know the narrative it has spun. I beg of you, any of you, should you not want to take part in this fight, do not be ashamed!" Augustus lets up for a moment. "You will find no dishonor in choosing to stay. So, finally, will you stand and fight when I have no guarantee we will return?"
Silence again. It is another piece of brilliance from Augustus. She implored her officers first. They accepted to stand by her. Then she had her officers ask her sailors, troops and marines. Still, they stood by her.
She offers one last out. And she is met with a deep, dark silence. I can't help but feel my mouth curling into a smile as a single Terran steps out of the assembled formation perhaps halfway back. Whoever this is, their armor is on, and their helmet is already up.
This Terran strides forward with sullen silence, save for the sounds of armored boots into floor. The Terran makes its way up the open spaces between blocks of soldiers, owning the middle path alone.
A minute or so passes as the Terran makes their way forward, reaching the front of the formation. There they stop, raising their throat at the command platform. And the Terran, with as much anger as they can muster, slams their boot into the floor.
As they do, the rest of the formation, all of us included, offer two, deafening stomps in return.
My bones shake. My brain rattles. My ears are overwhelmed.
The Terran below us stomps again. Everyone returns it twice. And then their helmet slides down, revealing the rage-filled, purple lined face of Viola Augustus.
She grits her teeth up at us and raises her throat, straining her neck. "Firebornnnnnnnnn!"
Two, earth-shaking stomps.
"Firebornnnnnnnn!"
STOMP. STOMP.
Viola strains her neck further. I ca...
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