Keelos was a technician on the War Mecha. Large, walking war machines armed with dozens of different weapons, from energy projectors, to guided missiles to gigantic slug throwers. They'd fought and defeated tanks, gunships, and other Mecha in a swath across space. He was the chief mecha technician for the second ground attack army, 4th group, third mecha squadron.

In a cruel way, Keelos was proud. The mecha belonged to his people the Varna. They'd been stolen, along with himself from a hopelessly outgunned space cruiser. He was beaten and tortured until his will broke. He then he was forced to alter his people's machines to suit his new Thasite Masters. He was forced to adapt pieces, weapons, energy supplies and everything else from defeated enemies. Somehow he'd done it well enough to stay alive. He never knew he could work so hard or be so inventive at doing the impossible. The fists and neural lashes of the Thasites were quite an incentive.

A bright flash happened. It started red and then went white.

Keelos stood and stared as the shockwave passed over him, his skin tingling with the warmth. It looked like a nuclear bomb.

A mushroom cloud lifted over the field, spotted with the debris and bodies of the 3rd mecha group stationed 2 kilometers away.

A blast of solid air knocked Keelos to the ground. He lay on his back looking at the sky

Somewhere Keelos could hear the brutal, thuggish Mecha Commander Jamash shrieking "RUN! Run you Fools!"

There was a bright red flash in the sky over Keelos. He could see a red sphere streaking right at him. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Within the second he'd be dead, and all the machines stolen from his people turned into wreckage. Keelos realized that he'd been waiting for that

"Thank you." He whispered.

There was a bright flash and then nothing.

-*-

The crew was grim as they ran to their fighter planes. Already the devastation wreaked by the Federation forces was tremendous.

Now the miserable white ships of the Federati settled into orbit and started to have their way with the Thasite forces on the ground.

The calls from Ground Command were almost hysterical. Flight Leader Lagalar would never say so to the Commander's face. That would invite a challenge and the Ground Commander Zyklos wasn't made the second highest ranking commander of the Thasites because he was pretty.

Lagalar bellowed at his pilots "Get moving! We have a date with the small, weak monkeys in orbit! Don't let me see cowardice in you or I'll have your stinking carcass for my LUNCH!"

To emphasize the point there was a brilliant light show of red and orange beams that danced crazily around the area where mecha group 7 was stationed.

"They'll be hitting this place any moment! I intend to be in the air when that happens!"

Lagalar clambered into his delta shaped fighter plane and started it up. In the distance, Lagalar could see technicians and slaves running for their lives. "Good. Maybe I can capture some of them and torture them with this is over." Lagalar lifted off with his customary disregard for the machine's tolerances or best operating characteristics.

As he and his most alert crew got into the air and moving, Lagalar saw a bright red flash. He closed his eyes while the world around him went white. The plane was buffeted like a child's toy, but somehow he kept it flying.

"Now it's payback time, you bastards." Lagalar pointed the nose of his craft skyward and it climbed like an angel on wings.

-*-

Technician First Class Zela Malan of the Zeon Defense force did his last diagnostic check on his baby.

The ZDS Meetha was an old Miranda class ship. No longer quite up for the front line of battle with her newer Starfleet sisters, nevertheless the Zeon Defense Force kept her well and even added touches of their own. For her task, an escort cruiser for the heavy carrier McArthur, even Starfleet's newest ships couldn't beat her.

Malan grinned with special pleasure at his baby. Add after the last engagement with the Ekosians, the point defense gun seemed like a relic from the past. A huge dome-topped cylinder fed ammunition to a six-barreled gun.

The gun didn't use chemical explosives or even magnetic force to propel it's payload. It use small pulses of artificially generated gravity to accelerate its ammunition to hideous velocities.

And the ammuniition - Malan fingered a disarmed casing in his pocket. The Federation called them micro-torpedoes. About as long as his finger they had sustainer engines and guidance. They could turn to pursue their target. With the odd explosive the Federation used the one round had enough power to level a building, or just enough explosive to pick a vehicle out of a crowd and leave the bystanders generally uninjured.

Malan grinned. No more mines, missiles, or fighters. He felt pity for the attack ship that got close enough for his baby to engage.

She was working well and in perfect condition for her first test under fire.

-*-

Lieutenant Zev Caro sat in his fighter plane. It was warmed up and ready to go, and so was he. But with frustration Caro realized his ship would probably never see the kind of action every hot pilot wanted to try.

Plane to plane combat was not necessary unless the range was way too close and the altitude way too low.

The idiotic Thasites were going to try to attack full sized starships in orbit, and get themselves killed before Caro and his squadron could shown them what fighter piloting was *really* all about.

Caro heaved a sigh and continued to study his PADD with the exam for line officer's exam. It didn't have the pure adrenaline rush of piloting a fighter, but being on the bridge of a starship didn't rub one's face in the fact of one's obsolete job.

-*-

Captain Kennedy of the USS Stone reported to Commodore Collins and General Kervor of the ZDF. "The in bound fighters launched as soon as the bombardment started. They're coming in ragged from all over. I feel this was an ad-hoc launch and an ad hoc attack."

"What weapons are they mounting?" Collins asked

"Most are equipped to attack small targets. We're seeing a lot of small rockets and missiles with conventional explosives. Only a few got off the deck with fusion bombs on board. We have them tagged on sensors for special attention. We're not reading any anti-matter or serious energy weapons." Kennedy replied. "Just small blaster and laser cannon."

"What is your threat assessment, Captain?" General Kervor asked

"Slight. Even if they know enough to attack the carrier, our fleet and your escorts can take care of them pretty directly." Kennedy said.

General Kervor nodded "Excellent. Please take up picket positions and prepare to fire in defense of the battle group. We have sensor readings From the ZDF Kirk that show Mecha and Tanks are already fleeing into the city. We will launch as soon as you tell me all enemy fighters are clear."

"Yes, Sir." Commodore Collins said. Kennedy was impressed. Collins seemed as though he were happy to be taking tactical directions from a local defense force commander. Kennedy slapped an insincere smile all over his face. "We'll get 'em General."

And the Nerve of the Zeons, naming a Constitution class starship after James T. Kirk. Like they were appropriating him as their own hero.

-*-

Lagalar felt confident now. His plane was in space and operating properly. The handful of pilots who got off the ground and survived the strike were by definition his best people. So he rolled in on the Federation ships completely certain of the havoc he'd wreak in and amongst the fat, slow ships.

He turned on his tactical plotter and cursed. The Aliens were using electronic warfare to blind his ship. Well it was almost successful. Lagalar couldn't tell one ship from the other. He simply targeted the nearest one and flew straight at it. Most of his compatriots did the same.

-*-

"Stand by to engage." The ops officer from the Sovereign said. With the fastest computers and the newest comm systems, the Sovereign was the coordinator.

"Engage at will." General Kervor said.

"Aye, Sir, Engaging." The Soverign's officer said,

Sela Malan grinned widely as the status lights on his baby all went amber.

-*-

Lagalar screamed. The alien ships lit up like a fireworks display. The patterns of the firing were almost hypnotic. Lagalar recognized that one computer was directing every weapon on the fleet. Beams filled the sky. Lagalar felt he could almost walk on them to the alien fleet.

All around him he heard screams and static as almost every Thasite plane in the sky ate a beam.

Lagalar whipped his plane around in a frenzy, trying to evade the weapons. He didn't noticed that all the planes with heavy weapons aboard were the first hit.

As he closed, Lagalar almost laughed. He wasn't hit yet! He might make it! YES! He could do this!

-*-

The phaser firing on the Meetha was spaced but constant for a bit. The Cooridnating computer sent firing instructions to the Meetha and the Meetha's Tactical Computer looked for permission from her tactical officer. That was already locked open, so the phasers fired as requested. The exact right amount of energy in exactly the right place.

Malan's face grew more and more sour as the firing continued. The bastards weren't going to leave any for Baby!

At long last, with a beeping noise, Baby received a firing request from the Sovereign by way the ZDS Meetha's tactical computer, and with a subdued, anti-climactic thump she fired.

One round.

-*-

Lagalar howled. He spun the plane as tightly as he could stand, G-Forces pressing him into the seat almost more than he could bear. As he began to gray out from lack of blood to his eyes, he saw the tiny white mote that the small ship fired at him turn to follow

His plane exploded. Lagalar found himself hurling through space with painful burns and a space suit covered in gooey gray sealant.

He looked carefully. There were no more explosions. There were no more planes.

Then he started cursing because it was all he could think of to do.

-*-

Zela Malan looked at the status read out with a wry exasperation. One round

The read out now said there 999 rounds in the hopper.

That meant Baby was fired in combat. That meant that when they returned to base. He had to dismount Baby, haul her into a bay and do complete strip down and rebuild to make sure she hadn't damaged herself. Under the horrible stress of firing one round.

Malan shook his head.

-*-

Hours Later Zev Caro and his squadron roared down out of the sky over Rowan City.

"Dragon Eater One to Mother, entering combat zone, now." Caro said.

"Roger Dragon Eater One. USS Montana reports jamming on line and operational." The flight controller said aboard the ZDS MacArthur.

"Tell Montana we said thank you, Flight Control."

"Roger that Dragon Eater One."

Caro could see the whole city laid out on front of him as his plane plunged straight down.

He activated his tactical scanners and grimaces. They were reduced by the jamming. Still it was better than eating every beam they could find and throw.

"We'll make our first pass from south to north at 200 meters altitude, Spread out and double check your flasher. One Micro-Torp one machine." Caro said to his pilots. "Sound off ready."

One by one his eleven pilots let him know they understood the mission specs, his instructions and were ready to comply.

It looked like he was going to prang good and hard. Caro felt his heart thunder, his blood rush and an uncontrollable grin spread across his face. Screw a Starship Bridge!

He yanked on the stick hard and the plane snapped out of it's dive and roared at the cityscape.

The enemy was blind firing, trying to shoot down his squadron by naked eye alone.

At 200 meters altitude the 800 km per hour they were flying seemingly faster than warp nine.

Caro locked up a mecha. It was in the middle of the street firing beams and missiles.

As they crossed the city line he pressed the firing button. With a minute thump the mirco-torpedo left the plane

As they roared across the city center, explosions rocked the city, mecha came flying apart.

At the edge of the city Caro grunted "Up! We'll turn High and make out next pass."

The twelve planes yanked themselves skyward and rolled into the sky, accelerating.

No one hit this time. Caro Grinned. Those poor suckers on the ground.

-*-

Two days later organized resistance was gone.

ZDF Special Forces troopers beamed down at will and encountered little or no resistance.

But the worst was yet to come.

-*-