The Minotaur smiled as the cold comfortable feeling of steel entered his mind. The momentary confusion as adapted neurons switched to hypermode and took control of the ships networks was nauseus to most, but to him the nausea had long since worn off and he welcomed the rare familiarity.

The panicked voices coming over the local media box disappeared and was replaced with a steady hum as his artificial senses disassembled the noise in the RF bands filtering out unnecessary gibberish and leaving him with an amalgamation of information that told him the natives had seen what was starting to happen above their heads.

Like a shot fired from a bullet the heavy Asterius fighter tore out through the eight floors of the building as smoothly as a dog shaking off water, and rose into the cold winter air trailing debris and a slowly spreading dustcloud over the rising panic below.

In the quiet red hum of the rising ship, the Minotaur’s mind had left them behind as definitively as the ship leaving the ground. He had more important things to consider. The visitors were three level 2 scouts and a heavily armored brig whose active scanners was quickly deep-frying all the primitive electronicss on the exposed hemisphere below, but the ships didn’t worry him.

What worried him was how quickly they had found him here and the fact that they had had two minutes to set up some sort of surprise for him to keep him here until reinforcements could arrive.

The fireball of superheated air pushed before him dissipated as he catapulted out of the atmosphere. The ship shivered as it produced and shook off the first batch of 2500 drones that spread around him at four clicks per second and assembled into packs awaiting his commands.

The Mintotaur looked at the ships converging on him like a pack of hungry dogs feeling a fierce battlecry rising out of him and through the communication bands to the oncomming ships. The wait was over. He felt himself smile again.

ILLUSTRATION: Pegasus from Battlestar Galactica by Richard Livingston