Meanwhile, in another quadrant of the galaxy: 

     The Mrabow converged to attack. 

     One thousand warships strong. 

     Caracaw sat at the exact center of the flagship, which, in turn, sat at the exact center of the invading force. 

     An egri, born to be a living, breathing computer the size of a tanker truck with one hundred appendages and four hundred digits, "fingers", attached to consoles and computer banks and control mechanisms, Caracaw commanded his flagship, and, in turn, the entire fleet. 

     They congregated one jump away from the Folock solar system.  

     The Folock had terraformed the seven planets that circled their sun. They'd grown to be fifty billion strong, and there were whispers they conspired to expand. 

     The Mrabow could not allow that to happen. 

    There were arguments and counter-arguments among the press and populace, but that's basically what it came down to. The Folock might one day want to encroach on the territory of the Mrabow, and, for the time being at least, the Mrabow Empire was far richer and had weaponry far advanced to the Folock's.

   Therefore, the Mrabow would blast the seven inhabited planets of the Folock back to the time of stone huts. 

    They figured it wouldn't take much longer than it would to digest lunch, once they got started.

     "Are we ready?" Caracaw asked his thousand warships.

     "Ready!" 999 warships responded.

     One warship at the edge of the perimeter didn't respond. 

     Caracaw called to it: "Problem?"

     The warship's captain brought up what concerned her on the viewscreen. 

​     An object came at them. 

     Fast. Several times faster than the speed of light. 

​     An object no bigger than a single soldier. 

    No, Caracaw thought. It couldn't possibly be her. The Folock wouldn't have the funds required to hire the deadliest assassin in the multiverse. The Mrabow themselves would have to think twice about hiring her. Still, 

     "Pinpoint and attack," he told the warships in that sector. 

    A dozen warships focused on the target and fired, each warship with enough firepower​ to take out a planet.

     They had no effect on the approaching object whatsoever.

     It is her, Caracaw thought. 

     He communicated that information immediately to the emperor.  

     His message, simple, yet, for the Mrabow, horrifying. 

     It contained a single word: 

     Tindriss. 

     The message may well have read: THIS MISSION IS DOOMED.

CONTINUE