One

'leesaan crouched in the lee of what had been a doorway and made himself ignore the biting cold, his laser poised ready for use. Six kills. Sneaky kills, from cover, but kills nevertheless. Six less aliens for the regular military to worry about.
      He told himself it would make a difference, even if only a small one. But it was difficult to believe it.
      So many dead. And no matter how many of the invaders were killed, there always seemed to be twice as many to take their place.
      'leesaan wished Nappa's forces were here, instead of spread throughout the Empire.
      Wished that he could wake up and find everything had only been a nightmare.
      Wished he were powerful like his sire.
      Wished it wasn't so cold - and that he hadn't managed to get cut off from Kyuri's squad. He wasn't sure where they were, and didn't dare risk taking to the air again; what was left of the city was full of invaders...
      He ducked down further against the frozen ground as a trio of unfamiliar aliens loomed through the flurrying snow. One good thing about the weather, he thought grimly as he took aim, at least it made it difficult for the invaders to find the defenders, too. Apparently they weren't adept at ki-tracking.
      As the first of the three fell, a laser-burned hole through his brain, 'leesaan felt thankful for small mercies.

Le'leen had been hurt, Ti'ani could feel it. His twin's pain was distracting him, making him careless: he forced himself to *close*, to block out all *contact*. The Feeds were looking after 'leen: the best thing Ti'ani could do was keep fighting. There wasn't much of a city left to fight for, but there was the family - and the rest of the planet...

Hijau had dropped to his knees, panting. They had been fighting for a day, a night, and halfway through the following day: the defenders - what was left of them - were exhausted, battered, hurting. He hadn't yet had an opportunity to check how many casualties they'd suffered.
      But… they were gaining ground, he was sure of it. The piles of the recent dead were more alien than Empire, and the frequency of shuttle drops had diminished. There was still a long way to go, but he finally felt they had a chance.
      He looked up as Ry landed heavily nearby, 'raadiin close behind him. Both were bleeding, and the zn'hre was shivering violently: at some point in the fighting he'd lost his cowl and hood. Hijau glowered at him.
      "Get yourself under cover. Take an hour to warm up - find an undamaged bodysuit if you can. You'll be a liability otherwise."
      'raadiin looked as though he would argue, but Ry scowled at him.
      *He's right, hebi. And I may not have the leisure to save your arse if you freeze up mid-fight. Why don't you get to the shambles the Feeds are using as an infirmary, get something hot to eat and drink. See how everyone's doing. Come back when you've stopped shivering.*
      Very reluctantly the zn'hre warrior nodded, then saluted Hijau.
      "You'll alert me if I'm needed?"
      The Saiyan grinned tiredly.
      "I'd hate you to miss any of the fun!"
      'raadiin snorted, then smirked and hauled himself warily - and wearily - upright.
      "All right then."
      Ry caught his arm, pulling him close for a moment, pressing a warm kiss to the sensitive skin under his ear.
      *Go carefully, aijin.*
      'raadiin sighed, eyes closing briefly.
      **You take care too. I'll be back as soon as I can**

The infirmary was crowded with injured warriors: 'raadiin kept out of the way as best he could, snaffling a hot fruit drink from one of the steaming pots kept ready for anyone who needed the refreshment and feeling his heart sink as he gazed out over the cramped makeshift ward. Fast healing abilities or not, there were a lot of people here who weren't likely to return to the battle. Gtislin spotted him and hastened over.
      "Highness, will you sit with your sire-host for a little while? He needs comforting, and a familiar face will help."
      Puzzled, 'raadiin followed the Feeodoreean to a warm side room, where injured R'ren'nkh'ians were being tended. His eyes widened in shock - in a bed to one side lay 'tiisaan, pallid, unblinking, only semi-conscious. The warrior hastened to his side, wrenching off his gloves and taking the dancer's hands in his own.
      **Zk'viss? What happened?**
      Dull golden eyes gazed up listlessly.
      "'viirel's dead. And the others."
      'raadiin bit his lip, then bent down to kiss 'tiisaan's forehead.
      "I'm here, little one."
      "Thank you." There was a sudden spark of fire in the ashen face, the shadowed eyes. "Promise me you'll make them pay, 'raadiin. I want them dead."
      Blinking - he'd never have believed the dancer capable of such hatred, such anger - he nodded.
      "I promise, 'tiisaan." As the dancer's eyes closed, 'raadiin stroked the pale face. "Where are you hurt?"
      "Fractured bones, mostly. Nothing that will stop me dancing."
      'raadiin breathed a sigh of relief. He couldn't understand the appeal himself, but was fully aware that if 'tiisaan couldn't dance, he would feel it would be better to be dead.
      "That's something, shi'iin…"
      "Not enough. Me, Bri-sensei - no other zn'hre survived. Tion saved me. She couldn't help the others…" He shifted awkwardly, biting back a whimper. "Is papa all right?"
      "Last I saw, yes. Rad-san is looking out for him. I'll check later if I can. At the moment everyone's trying to keep *quiet* as much as possible, to save confusion and in case the Karilun mercenaries can *hear* us."
      "… good…" 'tiisaan's eyes were closing, and 'raadiin kissed his forehead again.
      **You be all right if I go back?**
      **Yes…**
      **Stay warm, zk'viss…**

Ry glared.
      "You were supposed to rest!"
      'raadiin hissed irritably.
      "No, I was supposed to warm up. I've done that, and found another hood. And seen 'tiisaan… he's the only zn'hre student at the Academy who survived."
      Ry paled.
      "… oh fuck…"
      "Yesssss…" 'raadiin glowered out at the snow. "Let's go and kill things."

Radittsu managed a small rueful smile at his bondmate, unsurprised when it wasn't returned. Since the Academy had been destroyed Zha'haabron had been tireless, blasting aliens and shuttles indiscriminately, careless of his own injuries. And it was working. With Vejiita's ki clearing the area over and around the palace compound, his own and the Ssii'iin's repelling invaders above the city, and the surviving warriors blasting any aggressor they found, they were slowly but surely pushing back the invasion. Zyelenyi had reported that the attack force was wholly concentrated on Vejiitamachi: there were no warships anywhere else above the planet - strike ships sent out from the moon base confirmed it as they engaged shuttles and the sleek, fast Karilun destroyers in battle above the atmosphere.
      He frowned and raced forwards as Zha'haabron faltered, dropping earthwards: he managed to break his own fall, landing with less than his usual elegance on the debris-strewn ground, but the big Saiyan winced at the sight of his bondmate's injuries. Not that his own were negligible, but the zn'hre was fighting the cold as well…
      *You want a break? You could, I think.*
      Zha'haabron shook his head.
      **I'll rest when the world is safe** He gazed towards the palace compound, frowning. **Where is Zorun?**
      Radittsu blinked, then scowled. Consciously he hadn't noticed the lack of the King's Guard's ki, but subconsciously… he peered through the clouds of smoke rising from the city, searching for deep purple, but there was none.
      He *reached*, but there was nothing. Paling, he eyed his bondmate.
      "I can't *feel* him."
      Zha'haabron stared, then *reached* for Ti'aasaan in the Kamome caves… Moments later he groaned and dropped into a crouch, face buried in his hands. Cold to the core, Radittsu knelt and pulled him into a tight hug.
      *What is it?*
      A long, fraught silence, then,
      **Zorun's gone**
      The Saiyan shook his head disbelievingly. No. The King's Guard couldn't be dead. It simply wasn't possible…
      But he couldn't *contact* Zorun.
      The bond was broken.
      He held his bondmate, heart aching for his friend and for the little zn'hre.

'haavok's hands clamped desperately tightly over the raw, blood-gouting stump that had been Kuri's left forearm. The young Saiyan was moaning, semi-conscious as his life bled away. The zn'hre *screamed* for his partner: 'honee raced to find them, face pale and horrified at the sight.
      **Got to get him to the Feeds…**
      **Where's the rest of his arm?**
      'haavok blinked.
      **… what…?**
      **His arm! With Geck tech the Feeds might be able to reattach it!**
      'haavok shook his head.
      **Shredded. Not a chance** He shifted carefully, keeping his precarious grip. **Can you support his body if I keep hold here?**
      'honee promptly wrapped his arms around the Saiyan's body and lifted, and between them the princes hauled Kuri to the infirmary.

But the battle continued; there was no time for grief. Radittsu pulled his bondmate up and out of the way of the Budoushujin squad intent on killing and eating them. Survival instincts, and anger, kicking back in, the Saiyan and the zn'hre cut swathes of destruction through the remaining invasion force, making their way back to the palace compound.
      Vejiita met them there, face pale and grinning mirthlessly, streaming with blood.
      "Status?"
      "We're beating them back, sire."
      The Saiya-jin-no-Ou growled his satisfaction.
      "Heh. It shouldn't take this long, though. Remind me to step up training for all ranks. Once we have ranks to train again."
      Radittsu blinked. Of course, he hadn't had the leisure to think about it, but this slaughter of so much of the military force was going to leave them desperately short of warriors onworld. Which meant that once the invaders had been repelled and life had returned to normal, every female of child-producing age would be pressed into service to breed, during their next three or four heats. He shook his head, resigned. There were going to be a lot of very unhappy Saiyans over the next three or four years…
      But that would come later. At the moment they needed to assess the situation. Hijau, Kyuri and Merica joined them, saluting tiredly then collapsing to sit cross-legged on the frozen ground. Vejiita folded his arms and eyed the small group of commanders, then scowled.
      "Where’s Zorun?"
      Zha'haabron closed his eyes.
      "Gone."
      The Saiya-jin-no-Ou growled.
      "I didn't give him permission to leave."
      Radittsu stared, sudden hysterical laughter rising in his chest - then forced it down and rubbed a hand over his face.
      "His bond with his mate has broken, sire. We assume he's dead."
      Vejiita's face paled infinitesimally.
      "We assume no such thing until we've found the body." he growled. "Now, full report. I want to know what's happening above us too."
      The news was encouraging. The strike ships had wrought havoc above the atmosphere, destroying five warships within minutes of starting their attack; another ten had been severely damaged and left the system, apparently on their way back to Karilun. At the moment the smaller ships were staying on the move and hitting shuttles as they left their motherships, a tactic that was proving very successful. There were still eighteen warships in orbit, but having nearly halved the attacking force significantly improved their chances on the ground.
      On the ground the news wasn't so good. The Saiyan military had suffered massive losses, most of them in the second and third classes as expected, though a high number of Elites had also died in action. And the infirmary was simply overwhelmed with the injured: the Feeodoreeans were working as fast as they could under appalling conditions, but there simply weren't enough of them…
      Vejiita looked over his shoulder at the sound of footsteps, and moments later Kiraz limped to join his father. A little way behind him came Ry, supporting the stumbling 'raadiin: Zha'haabron roused himself enough to pull his sireling down into Radittsu's arms with a request for a ki-shield to warm the zn'hre warrior. Vejiita eyed them all, then smiled.
      "You have fought well, all of you, all of us. A little longer and we will have won. Then we will regroup, rebuild, and take the battle to Karilun: I will not countenance this treachery."
      Which was all very well, thought Radittsu exhaustedly, but could we win this war before we start planning the next, please? Vejiita turned to Zha'haabron.
      "Think we can take out the rest of the warships between us?"
      The zn'hre gazed at his ally incredulously - then nodded wearily. They had to. It was the only way to finally defeat the invasion. Vejiita smirked.
      "Good. Half an hour to recover ki, then we'll strike."
      The kings, Radittsu and Hijau *contacted* the remaining onworld squads to apprise them of the plan… Half way through the communication they were suddenly and unceremoniously *blocked*. Radittsu frowned - then froze as he recognised the *blankness*.
      Warui-jin.
      The others realised it at the same time. Zha'haabron took off, senses stretched wide, *calling* his kin, alerting them while he still could, zn'hre and hybrids responding, racing to join the exhausted squads where they'd be most useful.

They managed to blast three shuttles from the sky before being inundated by Warui-jin, silent, powerful and deadly. Thousands of them. Far more than the onworld forces, decimated and exhausted as they were, could possibly cope with…
      Zha'haabron watched Lahana fall, his body ripped to pieces, the zn'hre swallowing the grief he knew his sireling would feel once he realised his lover was dead, then renewed his own attack, directing the Saiyan's firepower towards enemies they couldn't perceive until they fell. Above the city he could see his sirelings and hostlings doing the same, and clamped down on the surge of desperate fear that threatened to make him careless.
      They held their own for nearly two hours before a stray blast knocked Zha'haabron from the sky. Distracted for a second by his falling bondmate, instinctively diving to reach him, Radittsu screamed as a ki-blast ripped across his back. He landed heavily a handsbreadth from the unconscious and broken body of his zkai'da, gazing up in time to see Vejiita forced to the ground by three of the Warui-jin. Pulling Zha'haabron into his arms - too late now to worry about making injuries worse - the big Saiyan cradled his bondmate, weeping, ignoring his own pain.
      I still never told you how much you mean to me, how much I love you…
      Kissing the pale face one last time, Radittsu hauled himself upright. Damned if he'd die any way other than on his feet, glaring at the enemy.
      Above him, ranked in a grinning line across the sky, the Warui-jin slowly took aim, silhouetted against the brightness growing behind them…