The after-action report painted a grim but predictable picture. The battle with the rearguard had been short and brutal.
“For a rearguard, they were surprisingly aggressive,” the Elara admiral mused, his eyes scanning the data streams. The invaders had fought with a suicidal ferocity, a desperate, cornered-animal rage that had cost the Elara fleet one of their frigates. When their weapons were depleted, they had simply turned their ships into missiles, a final, spiteful act of defiance.
After all, the only difference between a spaceship and a missile is intent. One carries people and can be stopped. The other doesn’t. But both can bring death if the pilot is determined enough to become part of the payload.
“Retreat was never an option for them, Admiral,” his assistant, a young officer named Kaelen, replied. He stood at the admiral’s flank, his own gaze fixed on the tactical display. “The moment they knew they were discovered, their only mission was to die fighting. To be captured or to flee would have risked revealing the location of their main force. They were expendable, and they knew it.”
“A costly distraction,” the admiral sighed. “We’ve lost the element of surprise. They know we’re coming now.” He replayed the battle footage, a textbook example of a modern space engagement. It was over in minutes. In an age of supercomputer-driven tactical analysis, the outcome of most battles was determined before the first shot was ever fired. The only variables that mattered were information and will. Who knew something the other side didn’t? And who was willing to do something so wildly unconventional it slipped past even predictive models? But those were one-in-a-million moments, short-lived anomalies that quickly became part of the updated parameters once the data was salvaged.
As a result, most battles devolved into one of three types: a last stand, a delaying action, or a desperate escape. The last was the most common. After all, in the vast emptiness of space, with nearly infinite directions to flee, stopping someone who’s determined to run was almost impossible.
“The element of surprise was always a temporary advantage, Admiral,” Kaelen pointed out. “Even if we had remained undetected, the other fleets are launching their own liberation campaigns across the Conclave. News travels. This was never going to remain a secret for long. If anything, we should be proud. We are the first to successfully liberate a captured world.”
Before the admiral could respond, the communications officer interrupted, her voice crisp and professional. “Sir, we have finished clearing a route to the planet. Planetary scans are complete in all permitted sectors. Everything is clear.”
Kaelen’s head snapped up. “Permitted? What do you mean, permitted? Are you telling me there are parts of this planet they refused to let us scan?” His voice was laced with a sharp, incredulous anger.
“Yes, sir,” the officer confirmed. “The planetary government argued that those sectors were untouched by the invasion. They claimed their own forces had already secured those areas and that our scans were unnecessary.”
“Unnecessary?” Kaelen’s voice rose, his composure cracking. “Ungrateful mongrels! We came here to liberate them, and this is how they treat their saviors? They should be on their knees, welcoming us with reverence! Admiral, this disrespect cannot be tolerated. I request permission to go down there myself and put them back in their place. They must be made to understand the disgrace they have brought upon you!” The air around his uniform seemed to shimmer with the heat of his fury, the veins on his neck bulging.
The admiral, who had remained silent throughout Kaelen’s outburst, slowly turned his head. He said nothing. He simply looked at his assistant, his expression a mask of cold, profound disappointment.
The effect was instantaneous. Kaelen’s anger vanished, replaced by a sudden, dawning horror. He dropped to his knees, his head pressed to the deck of the bridge in a gesture of absolute submission. “Admiral… I apologize,” he stammered, his voice trembling. “My transgression… it was unforgivable.”
“I understand your anger,” the admiral said, his voice a monotone that was somehow more chilling than any shout. “But to dare speak in such a manner, in my presence… you are lucky we are on the verge of a great victory, or I would have you court-martialed on the spot.” He paused, letting the weight of the threat settle. “I will deal with you accordingly when this mission is concluded. But first, you will go to the planet in my stead. You will take command of the ground situation. You will ensure the security of this star system. Understood?”
“I will do as ordered, Admiral,” Kaelen replied, his voice tight. “And upon my return, I will accept my punishment with honor.” He rose to his feet, straightened his uniform, and saluted sharply. Without another word, he turned and walked toward the hangar, his back ramrod straight.
The admiral watched him go, then turned his cold gaze to the communications officer, who had been frozen in place throughout the exchange. “Make the necessary arrangements. I trust I do not need to explain what they are?”
“No, sir,” she replied, bolting from the bridge before she could become the next target of his displeasure.
………………….
The shuttle descended through the planet’s atmosphere, escorted by a handful of local forces, the pathetic remnants of their defense force. As the planetary leader’s residence grew larger in the viewport, Kaelen took a deep, shuddering breath. He imagined the punishment that awaited him, the disgrace, the end of his career. He had to shove those thoughts aside. He had a mission to complete. He had to maintain his composure, to project the authority of the Elara, to show respect to a civilization he now held in utter contempt. It was a task that felt almost impossible for a man who prided himself on his civilization’s place in the top ten.
But orders were orders.
As he stepped off the shuttle, a practiced, diplomatic smile was plastered on his face. He walked toward the welcoming party, his hand extended. The moment his skin touched that of the Bilakis official, his entire body went rigid. Every instinct honed through battles, every fiber of his being, screamed at him. Danger. Get out. Run.
But before he could even process the warning, before he could pull his hand back, before he could even think to run…
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM.
A blinding flash of light erupted from the point of contact, a silent, all-consuming wave of energy that vaporized everything in an instant. The shuttle, the welcoming party, the palace, Kaelen himself, all of it was gone, reduced to nothing more than a memory and a rapidly expanding cloud of superheated dust.
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