Jamestown was burning.

They came at night, drifting past the artillery cannons on the wall. For silence, they cut their engines and lights, gliding on the hum of gravity stabilizers. The town's only warning came from one of the guards who got lucky, lighting the sky with cannon fire. Shells punched through one of their hulls, but failed to bring it down. It didn't matter. There were so many others, too many others.

The noise drew the people outside, easy targets when the ships opened fire. Concussive blasts blew craters in the ground, bodies flew everywhere, and screams rent the air. Only one race used ammunition like this, designed to incapacitate rather than destroy. The Nisseri had come, more ships than ever before, stealthy, organized. This wasn't a normal raid.

A concussive bomb slammed into one of the fuel tanks, blowing a fire ball hundreds of feet in the air, flammable fluid splattering nearby buildings, and setting them ablaze. People scattered, some to arm the ground cannons, others to put out the fires, most trying to hide.

Daphne Glouschester surveyed the chaos. The bombs interrupted their evening meal. Her brother Miles stood beside her, silent and wide eyed. Someone slammed into her, knocking her down without stopping. Miles helped her to her feet, his grip tight. He started yanking her back inside. Daphne dug her heels into the ground.

"What are you doing, we have to help!" Instead of answering her, Miles swept her up in his arms, carrying her inside to the hidden door in their floor. "No, you aren't putting me down there." Daphne writhed, shoving her hands at his chest, but Miles was strong. He held her flailing with one arm, yanking back the throw rug, kicking the bolt loose, he lifted the iron plate and forced her into the hide away. She expected him to follow, except he didn't. Their eyes met.

"I can fight," Daphne started. Miles put a calloused hand to her cheek.

"I know you can, no one's a better shot. But you know what they do to people like us. You're the only family I've left." He stood, his head brushing the low ceiling of their family home. "I won't be long, I need to check on the Mallorys then I'll join you." The look in his eyes revealed the promise for the lie it was. Miles would check on the Mallorys. The family had been too good to them not to, but he would not be joining her any time soon. He would seek out a ground cannon, or join the fire team. Miles was fiercely proud of their home, and he would defend it.

She let him shut the flap, flinching as he slid the bolt into place. Did he really think that would keep her down here? His footsteps receded, Daphne counted under her breath. Satisfied she crouched in the corner, digging for the awl she buried for this purpose. Just as she finished unearthing her escape tool, something changed overhead. An ear splitting whistle filled the air. The screams were rent with panic. The explosion was soundless, but the blast wave went into the very ground, lifting her off her feet before slamming her into the dirt wall.

Her eyes rolled up, lungs struggling to work as the air pressed on her, pressing, pressing, before finally letting up. Daphne sank to her knees, fighting to stay conscious. Her head spun so bad she clutched the ground to stay upright. Slowly the feeling subsided enough for her to use the wall to stand. It was then she noticed the silence.

Her heart thudded against her ribs. Daphne scooped up the awl, wedging it into the door lock to move the bolt. After nearly gouging her hand, she finally slid the blasted thing aside enough to pop the door around it. Scrambling out of the hole, Daphne's breath hitched.

The Glouschester home lay in pieces around her; the whole city was in pieces, completely leveled. She stared, slack jawed, until she heard a sound that chilled her blood. A deep, snuffling, sound that sent her diving for cover in the rubble as the Snifter rounded a pile of debris.

Lifting its modified snout, the Snifter inhaled deep. Two Nisseri followed it, hands on weapons and stun sticks. Daphne held her breath, watching the Snifter's eerie fluid crawl along the ground, searching for bodies, alive or dead. It darted forward, clawing at a pile of rubble that gave way to a screaming woman.

Constance Mallory. The woman was covered in blood, but it didn't seem to be hers as she beat the Snifter with a scrap of pipe. Daphne dug into the house's rubble around her, searching for her guns. She couldn't do much for the woman unarmed.

Constance fell silent. Daphne jerked her head up. One of the Nisseri stuck her with the stun stick, the other tying up her ankles to drag her back to their ship. This one paused, chattering in their language. Daphne realized there was another body. The two worked together, extracting an unconscious man, bleeding heavily from a nearly severed arm. Daphne's world froze.

Roaring filled her ears as her searching fingers found one of her guns. The Snifter sprang up in front of her, howling in her face. Daphne brought up her gun, putting a slug between it's mismatched eyes. She rose, firing. The Nisseri didn't have time to dive for cover, both going down, slugs lodged in their skulls. She hurried to her brother's bleeding body, tearing a strip from the hem of her shirt as she went. She pulled his inert form into her lap, trying to tie off the gushing wound in his arm. She looked up, searching for anyone, biting down the urge to scream for help. She heard footsteps running towards them, but the shouts were in the Nisseri's clicking tongue. No help was coming. Daphne stared into her brother's pale face. There weren't enough bullets in her gun. She tried to drag him toward the hideaway, straining against his dead weight, tears on her face. The footsteps were too close. Cursing, Daphne dove into the hole, pulling the door closed before the Nisseri came into view. She listened to their confused tones, her eyes streaming, clutching her gun to her chest. She understood they were recovering all the bodies. She listened to them drag her brother away, unable to swallow around the hard lump in her throat.

When she was sure they were gone, she crept out, slinking between the crumbling houses heading for the Nisseri ships in the flax fields. The Nisseri were thorough. There were no bodies littering the streets, even pieces were scooped up leaving nothing but blood pools as evidence. Daphne prayed if anyone had the sense to get to their hide aways they stayed there, hidden by the scent of the Earth. She doubted anyone was crazy enough to be like her, chasing down a ship armed with five slugs in a homemade gun.

There was an alarming lack of Nisseri in the streets now, which meant they would leave soon. Her worst fears were confirmed when the engines roared to life, vibrating the ground beneath her feet. No need for stealth now, they had what they came for. Daphne broke into a run, but she was far too far away. She watched the ships launch into the atmosphere, lights blazing. The sight burned into her memory as the distance between her and her brother grew to an unfathomable chasm.

Daphne screamed in rage, kicking loose stones. Her hair fell in her face, her cursed hair. It made her want to scream all over again. Instead she made her way back to the remains of her home. Around her, people began to emerge from their hideways, shocked by the destruction. She ignored all of them, anger smoldering in her veins. Working out her next course of action, for there was only one, she tore into the debris, setting aside anything useful she found, her guns, salvageable clothing, food rations, and extra ammo. Finding a suitable satchel she shoved most of the supplies and extra weapons into it, filling her belt with several guns before yanking up her waist length hair, swiftly braiding it and tying off the end. She had plans for it too, tucking the only knife she could find into her pocket.

Slinging the pack over her shoulder, she left their destroyed home. The other survivors didn't pay much heed to a lone woman, even someone like Daphne, too wrapped up in their own loss. Grateful for the lack of attention, she only had one stop to make on her way out.

The town's mausoleum stood outside the populated area, in a field normally full of wildflowers. The delicate blooms were blasted away in the raid. The mausoleum was untouched, but the Nisseri had little use for ashes. Jamestown burned it's dead. She walked down the row of hand carved nameplates, stopping at her parents. Tracing the names with her fingers, she withdrew her knife, slicing open the tip of her index finger. It was an old tradition, but her people regarded their traditions as a form of religion.

"I will find him, I swear it before the ashes of my father, my mother, I will not stop until my family is whole." She pressed her finger against their plaque, the cold stone absorbing her blood, and her oath. She left, walking towards the massive wall surrounding the city.

Daphne Glouschester was a genetic anomaly. The damning evidence was her hair, a dark red, which glimmered like copper thread. One in five hundred and fifty million, and her family consisted of three of them: her mother, her brother, and Daphne. It wasn't just the color that set them apart, there were other benefits, such as a natural immunity to the many illnesses which bombarded Jamestown. It was the reason her mother became a visiting surgeon, entering the worst sick houses without fear. Perhaps if she possessed more caution she wouldn't have been gutted by a patient insane with brain fever.

Their family managed after her passing. Her father and brother were skilled mechanics, and brought in a decent pay building prosthetics. Medical care in Jamestown was a lot rougher than the other territories; most people couldn't afford the tech to regrow a limb, using mechanical substitutes instead. However, after another wave of fever claimed their father, Miles and Daphne struggled to eke out a living and hold onto their home.

When Miles couldn't find enough work, Daphne hunted game, selling fresh cooked meats and hand treated furs. Meat was a valued treat as replicators were expensive to upkeep and often tasted bland compared to the real thing. Furs were as easy way to ward off the chill of winter. If they were desperate enough, Daphne sold strands of her hair to the select merchants allowed in Jamestown. The hair follicles sold high in New Tokyo, where techs were trying to replicate the genetic attributes inherent to her family line.

She reached the wall. Normally swarming with sentries, the posts were deserted. Daphne suspected any who survived the Nisseri were either unconscious or assisting the civilians. Just as well, they might have a notion to stop her and she would really rather avoid laying out the poor lads. It wasn't their fault she was leaving without permission.

Daphne approached the operating console for the wall's mechanized portcullis. In contrast to the massive device, the console was a small sleek box, blending into the metal. Every citizen of Jamestown knew how to find it, just as no one outside of Jamestown knew it existed; but few people knew the sequence that opened the person sized secondary gate for a thirty second interval, enough time for someone to slip through. Because of their professions as mechanics, her father and brother knew the code, often called to repair transports that broke down outside the wall, and because they did, Daphne wheedled it out of them.

Escaping Jamestown had crossed her mind before.

It only took a moment's effort to enter the code. The secondary door quietly slid open. It was kept in perfect repair, made for quick covert exits.

Before her stretched a barren expanse of rock, squat malformed trees, and an ill repaired road. Jamestown's infamous barricade, a ten mile zone of dead land, so they could always see who approached the wall, a barricade which failed them last night. Far in the distance, she could make out the end of the burn line, where Jamestown relinquished to the natural defenses of the forest. Daphne had a long walk until tree cover. Setting out, she didn't spare a backward glance for her home. There was nothing left for her but a promise to the dead.