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Grinx was still getting over the shock of the sudden appearance of the three spiritual leaders of the SF.

"With all respect to you, sir," he began, "we have indications that this is some kind of an alien force that seeks to—"

Multx cut him off at the quick. "These things are very complex, Commander Grinx," he said. "And not so easily explained. I wouldn't dare pretend to understand them myself. All I can tell you is that what will happen here seeks only to right a wrong committed ages ago. And in a way, it has very little to do with what is happening inside the Galaxy these days. In fact, it involves something even bigger. I know it is hard to believe, but what the people in this fleet — as well as others — must do is for the benefit of us all. Of everyone in the Galaxy. And that's why you must let them do it."

Grinx turned to Staxx and Fyxx. They were nodding in agreement.

"But what you are advocating is seditious and disloyal," Grinx told them. "I cannot just sit back an allow an alien attack on the Empire!"

"It is not an attack on the Empire," Multx said, cutting him off again. "Do you know three people who are more loyal to the Empire than us?"

Grinx thought a moment, but then just shook his head. "No," he murmured.

"Do you think we would be here advocating anything that was not in the best interest of the citizens of the Empire? Either now or in the future?"

Again, after some thought, Grinx had to shake his head no.

"Then, please," Multx said, in his very persuasive way, "just trust us — and do as we ask."

Grinx just shook his head. "And if I don't?" he asked.

The three men just looked at each other. Then Multx clapped his hands. If this didn't get him back in the history books, nothing would.

Outside the TempusVox control room bubble a gigantic star-ship suddenly appeared, again as if from nowhere.

It was the very famous BonoVox, Multx's old ship. Sensors said all of its weapons were powered up and ready to fire.

Before anyone could say a word, another SF ship appeared behind it. This was Staxx's old ship.

Then another materialized: Skol Fyxx's former vessel. Then came another… and another.

In seconds, there were more than a hundred SF ships surrounding the tightly boxed Omega Force.

These ships all belonged to elderly, retired, or SF commanders who had fallen from favor and, like Multx, had been relegated to the Ball.

"If you don't do as we ask," Multx now said in a very even tone, "then I'm afraid we will have little choice but to blast you all out of the sky."

A moment of immense tension went through the room. The SF and SG fighting each other was bad enough. But SF ships against other SF ships? At that moment it really did seem like the entire Empire was about to collapse.

But then, suddenly, a million bells went off all over the bridge. The ship's comm string sector was instantly ablaze with warning lights. The midrange scanners began going absolutely crazy.

Grinx hastily called up a mini-scanning screen. He took one look at it and nearly fell over. He was sure that the scanner was malfunctioning. The reading he was getting was almost impossible, even more so than an alien force coming down the Two Arm.

But Grinx made some quick instrument adjustments and determined that what the small scanner was telling him was not a mistake. With trembling fingers, he hit the panel that would bring the information up to the main screen itself and give everyone on the bridge a visual of this latest turn of events.

The screen came alive, and every squadron commander let out a gasp. This didn't make any sense.

The screen was showing another huge fleet of strange, incredible vessels. These ships went beyond the word alien. They seemed impossible. In design. In shape. In size. And in speed, for they were traveling even faster than the smaller fleet coming from outside the Galaxy. They, too, were heading into the No-Fly Zone. And they were all shining in the brightest gold.

"My God," Grinx said, staring at the visual, seeing it but hardly believing it. "How can this be?"

Multx touched the drop of oil on his forehead.

"As I said before…" He smiled. "Some things are just not easily explained."

Doomsday 212

Down the mountain, across the hills, to the field below, Alfx Sheez was running as fast as he could.

He'd watched the battle from the top of the mountain for so long, he'd almost become mesmerized by it. In that time, the blaster fire around him grew more intense, and the robots of Myx were fighting more fiercely, sometimes even hand to hand. But the number of red-uniformed SG troops entering the fray seemed to be growing with every second as well. So many red-hulled Starcrashers were unloading troops nearby, they were nearly colliding with the rescue ships taking off full of refugees. And all the while, more innocents were streaming into the defense perimeter.

The entire scene was so intense, so confusing, Sheez finally had to snap himself out of it. He couldn't waste any more time. He had to get his people to the evacuation point and at least give them a chance to get off this hellhole.

That's why he was moving so fast now.

He returned to his troop and quickly explained as best he could what was going on up ahead.

Between his story and the breathless report of the two runners before him, the mob of refugees soon got the picture. It wouldn't be easy, but Sheez was going to try to get them off Doomsday 212.

There was a pass between the two mountains nearest to them. On the other side of this pass was the edge of the evacuation zone. If his people were able to climb over the shallow hills in between and then down through the pass, they might be able to fall in with the other streams of refugees, get into the defense perimeter, and hopefully get on a ship that would lift them out.

How could they all make it that last half mile, though? Many of the elderly refugees could barely breathe at this point; others couldn't walk. The worst heat of the day had passed; still it was brutally hot.

But Sheez had a plan. He would put the strongest individuals in his group at the rear of the column and the most feeble, along with the women and kids, up front. He would then lead the group over the hills and toward the evacuation ring, and those who fell behind would be helped by the stronger ones at the back.

They would physically carry them to the rescue site if they had to.

Word passed down the line of refugees that they would be moving forward. The sky all around them seemed on fire now. The smoke was swirling like a hurricane, the sounds of explosions, blaster fire, and rocket engines was deafening.

But Sheez was feeling good. There was a chance that he just might pull this off.

He got his people positioned, women and kids and the elderly up front, stronger males at the back.

Then he stood up, raised his hand as the signal to move forward… But suddenly there was a tremendous blast.

Sheez looked down to find a huge hole burning its way through his through his chest.

He started to fall over, but then everything began moving in slow motion. He saw a huge vessel landing in front of him. A second ship was setting down close by. Both were Star-crashers, both painted red. REF troops began pouring out of these ships, even before they touched the ground. Weapons raised, it was one of these soldiers who had shot Sheez.

Still falling over, with one last breath, he screamed, " Everyone get down! "

No one in his troop hesitated. Just on the sound of his voice alone they hit the dirt. A storm of blaster fire went over their heads an instant later. There was another tremendous blast of light, and Sheez was hit again… and again… and again…