[Sound of heavy rain and windshield wipers swishing rhythmically]
Mom: Ugh, this traffic is unbearable! We should’ve been there by now. [Pauses, tapping at the GPS screen] Let’s try... an alternate route. Come on, stupid thing, work! [Presses buttons more forcefully]
Vehicle Assistant: You are currently on the fastest available route.
Mom: Fastest available route? Are you kidding me? [Presses buttons again] Reroute!
Vehicle Assistant: You are currently on the fastest available route.
Mom: [Voice growing tense] I said, reroute! Just find me another way!
Vehicle Assistant: You are currently—[Abrupt static, then silence from the Vehicle Assistant]
Mom: [Sputters, voice rising] What?! Don’t just die on me! Hello? HELLO?! [Frustrated tapping, then silence from the Vehicle Assistant]
Favo: Mom, maybe I can fix it? I can try—
Mom: [Snaps] No, Favo! Don’t stress me out even more! I’ll handle it myself, okay? Just... sit back and don’t touch anything!
[Pause; background noise includes faint honking and muffled murmurs of people in nearby cars]
Mom: [Mutters, more to herself] This is ridiculous. First, this snail-paced traffic, now the stupid GPS… what next?
Favo: [Quietly, after a long pause] The honking sounds... different now.
[Background honking, less frantic, more spaced out]
Mom: [Voice tight, not acknowledging Favo] Just sit still. I’ll figure it out.
[A wave of silence washes over the honking, starting from the front and rippling to the back of the traffic. The sounds of cars moving forward begin to replace the cacophony, one by one.]
Mom: [Sighs, frustrated yet hopeful] Finally, it’s moving... took them long enough.
[As the car inches forward, rain continues to strike the windshield.]
Favo: Is it just me, or is it getting darker?
Mom: [Glances briefly at the sky, worry creeping into her tone] Maybe it’s a storm. Great. Just what we need.
[Pause. Distant sirens grow louder as the car moves forward, revealing police and firefighter teams ahead, directing traffic and cutting off signals to reach apparent emergencies.]
Mom: [Murmuring to herself] If this storm gets worse, we’ll be stuck at your father’s. There goes my brunch... and my meetings. Perfect. Just perfect.
[Everyone is pushed forward slightly as she brakes abruptly. Sirens wail in the distance.]
Mom: [strikes steering wheel] FUCK! What now?!
[Sound of police and firefighter vehicles cutting through the intersection ahead, their lights flashing as they speed by.]
Favo: [Quietly] They’re going to emergencies.
Mom: [Softer, but still tense] Yeah, I see that... Let’s just hope we don’t end up stuck here all day.
[Rain intensifies, drumming harder against the windshield. The vehicle crawls forward as the road clears slightly.]
[Sound of moderate rain tapping against the car windows, accompanied by the steady swish of windshield wipers]
[Background noise: low hum of tires on wet pavement, occasional splashes from passing vehicles]
Mohopu: [Low muttering to himself] Just a little longer… maybe two minutes to the next turn. [Pauses, glancing at the map on the dashboard screen]
[Sound of rhythmic wiper blades continues as he adjusts the steering slightly]
[Momentary silence except for the ambient driving noise, then a faint pop sound and crackling far in the distance]
Mohopu: [Frowning, softly] What was that?
[Sound of shifting fabric as he adjusts in his seat, his upper left eye swiveling independently toward the sound]
Mohopu: [Speaking more audibly, his voice tinged with curiosity] Hm…
[Brief rustle of fabric as he turns his head fully toward the left. The faint whoosh of passing cars continues in the background. Mohopu’s voice trails off as he notices something unusual.]
[Background: faint rumble and a distant siren wail. A muted "boom" echoes.]
Mohopu: [Alarmed, slightly louder] Fire? There’s... more than one.
[The windshield wipers squeak slightly as he slows down the vehicle. Faint clicking sound as he activates the turn signal.]
[Sound of tires rolling slower over wet pavement as the vehicle decelerates. Mohopu’s breathing grows more deliberate as he watches the scene unfold through the rain-streaked window.]
Mohopu: [To himself, quietly] That’s a column of smoke—no, two… three. Damn. [He exhales sharply.]
[Background noise: louder siren wails cutting through the air as a firefighter truck stationed nearby lights up its signals. The faint hum of its engine crescendos as it begins to move, heading toward the fires below.]
Mohopu: [Half-whispering, gaze following the truck as it merges into traffic] They’re heading straight for it.
[Sound of the car accelerating slightly as he merges back into the main flow of traffic. The wipers continue their rhythmic sweep]
[Suddenly, a loud metallic thud as his car is rear-ended. Mohopu jolts forward slightly, his breath catching. A second, weaker impact follows almost immediately after.]
Mohopu: [Shouting, startled] What the hell?!
[Sound of brakes screeching as the cars behind him come to a stop. Rain continues to patter on the roof as Mohopu grips the wheel tightly.]
Mohopu: [Frustrated, muttering through clenched teeth] Drivers must be distracted by the damn fires. Great. Just great.
[He exhales sharply, trying to calm himself. Background noise of rain and muffled voices of other drivers arguing faintly outside.]
[Sound of Mohopu shifting gears, the car engine revving slightly as he maneuvers around the stopped vehicles.]
Mohopu: [Grumbling, voice filled with irritation] There’s no way this is just a bad day. No way…
[Sound of tires splashing through shallow puddles as he continues driving. Moments later, he approaches a turn indicated by the map.]
[Background noise: the low rumble of an engine and faint sirens diminishing in the distance.]
Mohopu: [Softly, checking his map again] This should be it. Finally.
[Sound of the car slowing down as he turns onto a street.]
[Background noise: muffled activity ahead, voices and machinery hum faintly.]
[Sound of tires coming to a stop. A whistle blows sharply outside, followed by the faint rustle of a police officer approaching.]
Police Officer: [Muffled, through the rain and closed window] Turn around! This street is closed.
[Sound of Mohopu lowering the window slightly, rain pattering louder through the opening.]
Mohopu: [Calmly] What’s going on?
Police Officer: [Firmly, over the sound of the rain] Military operation. You need to turn back. [Gestures for him to move.]
[Background: faint sound of a vehicle horn and a soldier shouting instructions nearby.]
[Mohopu exhales heavily as he grips the wheel tighter. The sound of the window closing muffles the outside commotion again.]
[Sound of gears shifting and the car reversing slightly. Tires crunch faintly on wet pavement as he turns back, the wipers squeaking rhythmically.]
Mohopu: [Muttering under his breath, voice tinged with exasperation] Great. Just what I needed.
[Faint sound of a no-trespass tape being extended and secured across the street in the background. Mohopu glances at his map again, the ambient driving noise resuming as he starts navigating a new route.]
Mohopu finally seemed to be escaping the mass of buildings that made up the city’s dense core. The high-rises and office towers gave way to a sprawling mix of markets and housing complexes. The streets were crowded with parked cars, their owners seemingly deciding it was better to stay indoors amidst the growing chaos. Despite this, some vehicles were still on the move, their headlights cutting through the increasingly dim light as they pulled into garages or sped away from the unrest.
He glanced at his dashboard, noting the time. 10:07 AM. It looked more like dawn, the smoke from scattered fires thickening the sky into a heavy, unnatural gray. The rain, persistent yet thin, streaked his windshield, forcing the wipers to work overtime. It only added to the oppressive feeling, each sweep of the blades accompanied by their regular, rubbing noise.
Frowning, Mohopu reached for the radio again. He flicked it on, cycling through channels, but all he found was a wall of static, occasionally pierced by faint bursts of distorted voices or sounds. Frustration flashed across his elongated face, his upper set of eyes narrowing as his ears twitched back. With a sigh, he turned the radio off once more, resigning himself to the solitude of his thoughts and the faint hum of his vehicle.
As he drove, his focus shifted between the darkened road ahead and the map displayed on his console. The markets on either side of the street were unusually quiet, their usual activity replaced by closed stalls and drawn shutters. A few scattered individuals hurried through the rain, clutching umbrellas or bags, but they moved quickly, heads down, avoiding any interaction.
Ahead, the smoke columns from earlier fires loomed closer. Even at a distance, the sight was unsettling. Mohopu tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his ears swiveling nervously as his thoughts raced. Whatever was happening, it was far beyond the typical bad day.
A flash of orange light caught his attention, momentarily reflected on the wet pavement. He glanced up instinctively but saw nothing beyond the heavy clouds and rising smoke.
— This better not be something worse than it already seems. — Shaking his head, he muttered under his breath.
The streets continued to thin out as he pressed on, the faint glow of the map on his console his only guide. For now, his destination lay ahead, but an uneasy weight settled in his chest. The farther he got from the city’s heart, the more he hoped the outskirts would provide some clarity—or at least some peace—to the growing storm within and around him.
Mohopu pulled into the parking lot of a supermarket. Half of its shutters were already down, the store clearly in the process of closing. Inside, the vast space felt eerily empty, the usual bustle replaced by silence save for the faint hum of fluorescent lights. Only the manager and two clerks were visible, their movements deliberate as they tended to the remaining tasks.
He approached the manager, his steps echoing faintly on the tiled floor. — Excuse me, are you still open? — he asked, his tone measured but carrying a hint of urgency.
— Technically, yes — he said, glancing toward the rain-streaked windows. — But I’ll probably have to close up soon if the storm gets worse. You’re a bit late, though. People already cleared out most of the essentials.
— I see — Mohopu said, sighing softly as he made his way through the aisles regardless.
The shelves were indeed sparse, stripped of anything deemed vital. Still, he managed to grab a few candy bars and a small block of cheese—enough to keep him going until his next stop. He paid quickly, the transaction feeling strangely surreal in that empty store.
As he carried his meager groceries back to the front door, the rain outside seemed to intensify, the pattering sound becoming a steady drumbeat against the glass. Mohopu hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the store’s dim interior before stepping out into the storm once more. The city might have been quieter here, but the weight of the unknown was no less heavy on his shoulders.
When Mohopu turned back toward the store’s door, his car framed just a few patas across the lot, his heart sank like a stone.
A creature loomed ahead, as tall as a streetlight, its grotesque silhouette illuminated intermittently by the dull gray of the storm. Four impossibly long, insect-like legs supported a massive head—or perhaps its body—balanced unnervingly atop the spindly frame. Its off-white surface glistened in the rain, resembling a shell of bone or chitin armor. Smaller appendages, almost like antennae, writhed beneath its belly, wriggling like searching feelers.
Each breath it exhaled became visible in the cold air, puffs of warm vapor dissipating into the drizzle.
Mohopu stood frozen as the monstrosity moved. Silent, deliberate strides carried it across the parking lot, and then—CRUNCH. One of its legs pierced through his car, crushing it as though it weighed ten tons. The twisted metal groaned under the creature's unimaginable weight.
In the distance, another of these horrifying figures strode over the supermarket fence, its enormous frame shrinking as it moved deeper into the wet haze. Mohopu felt the cold seep into his bones, unsure whether it came from the rain or the sight of these impossible giants.
Mohopu’s ears and feathers spiked up, every instinct screaming at him to move, but fear rooted him in place. He babbled incoherently, fragments of words tumbling out that did nothing to articulate the chaos in his mind.
Another strider entered the parking lot, then a third, their massive legs carrying them closer. They seemed drawn to the intense white light pouring from the store’s interior, each step sending shudders through the ground.
Mohopu’s breath hitched as he stumbled backward, his eyes twitching nervously, darting for escape. He took another slow, hesitant step away, and then finally, his legs obeyed the primal urge to flee. He turned and bolted back inside, his pulse pounding in his ears like a drumbeat.
— What are you doing? — the manager shouted, stepping toward the door.
— Get back! Close it! Don’t go out there! — Mohopu didn’t stop or look back.
The manager, confused, edged toward the glass doors and peered outside. His face contorted with horror as the full sight of the striders registered. — What in the… — he screamed, his voice cracking.
The clerks, startled by the outburst, rushed to see but quickly abandoned their curiosity. The manager’s panicked cries were enough. They dashed toward the back of the store, one grabbing the other by the arm as a massive crash echoed through the building.
One of the strider’s legs punched through the wall, twisting and breaking the metal framing of the supermarket as though it were paper. The fluorescent lights flickered ominously, and the sound of groaning steel filled the air.
Mohopu ducked behind a shelf, his feathers pressed flat in terror. — This can’t be happening. This can’t be real... — he muttered, his breath shaky and barely audible.
Mohopu dashed through the back rooms of the market, his claws skidding slightly on the tiled floor. Shelves of cleaning supplies and storage crates blurred past as he headed for the back exit. He shoved open the heavy door and stumbled into the loading area.
He stopped, catching his breath, his eyes darting around. Only a car and a bicycle were in sight. Without hesitation, he stuffed his food into the bike’s basket and hopped onto the seat.
— Let’s go, let’s go... — he muttered to himself, gripping the handlebars tightly.
He pedaled hard, maneuvering through the garden area, the wheels slipping slightly on the wet pavement. The faint sound of gunfire echoed through the streets, distant yet unmistakable. Shouts and the faint rumble of panic filtered through the thinning rain.
Mohopu pressed forward, his legs burning with effort as he rode down the supermarket’s exit ramp. He reached the street and slowed to a stop, scanning his surroundings. The once-busy roads were eerily empty, save for scattered debris and the occasional glimmer of movement in the distance.
He swallowed hard, gripping the bike tighter as he steadied his nerves. His feathers slick against his skin from the rain, he exhaled a shaky breath.
— Just keep going... the university’s not far. —
Mohopu pedaled again, his determination cutting through the unease as he navigated the desolate streets.
Kalene [crying out loud]: Mommy! Mommy! Don’t stop, he’s coming!
Favo [frantically]: Drive faster, Mom! Go, go! He’s gonna get us, he’s gonna get us!
[The sound of the car revving loudly as Mom’s foot slams on the accelerator. Tires screech against the wet asphalt. The roar of something inhuman echoes behind them, growing louder.]
Mom [panicking]: I’m trying, I’m trying! Hold on!
[A loud crash as the car mounts the sidewalk, jolting everyone inside. The muffled thud of a body hitting the hood is followed by a fading moan zipping by and a horrified gasp from her.]
Mom [screaming]: Oh my God—no, no—
Favo [yelling]: Keep going, Mom! He’s behind us! Don’t stop!
[The car swerves violently back onto the street. The wiper blades struggle to clear the heavy rain, visibility near zero. Other cars clog the road, horns blaring as chaos erupts around them.]
Kalene [sobbing]: Make it go away, Mommy! Make it go away!
Mom [breathing heavily]: We’re almost there… almost there… just hang on!
[Another turn, the screech of tires as the car narrowly avoids colliding with a stalled vehicle. The faint, guttural growl of the creature echoes through the storm.]
Favo [urgently]: There! The shopping center! Go in there!
Mom [shouting]: Hold on, I’m turning!
[The car jerks violently as Mom takes a hard turn into the parking lot. The rumble of the engine fades as she pulls under the shelter of the concrete overhang, killing the engine. Heavy breathing fills the car, mixed with muffled sobs from Kalene.]
Kalene [sniffling]: Is it gone? Mommy, is it gone?
Mom [whispering]: Shh… just… just stay quiet, baby. Don’t make a sound.
[The faint, rhythmic thud of the creature’s footsteps echoes through the rain. A looming shadow passes outside, briefly blotting out the pale light filtering through the storm. Inside the car, everyone holds their breath.]
Favo [whispering]: It’s right there… it’s right there…
Mom [quietly]: Don’t move. Don’t even breathe.
[A tense silence as the shadow lingers. Kalene’s muffled whimpers are barely audible as Mom covers her mouth gently, tears streaming down her own face. The sound of another crash in the distance causes the shadow to shift, then slowly move away.]
Favo [after a beat, whispering]: Did it… did it go away?
Mom [shaking]: I don’t know… we have to stay quiet. We can’t risk it coming back.
Kalene [still crying, softer]: I want to go home, Mommy…
Mom [whispering, firm]: We can’t, baby. We’ll… we’ll figure it out. Just stay with me, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you.
[The sound of distant gunfire crackles faintly through the rain, followed by another guttural roar far off in the distance. The three huddle together in the car, trembling.]
[The noise from the street seems to fade away under a minute, but just as Mom turns the car back on, a rifle butt breaks the glass and zips past her nose. A naked hand reaches inside and searches for the door handle, yanking it open and pulling her from the front seat.]
Voice [shouting]: Get out of the car now!
The rifle butt slammed through the driver-side window, sending shards of glass scattering over the seat. Before she could react, a bare hand reached inside, clawing for the door handle. In a swift, jerking motion, the door swung open, and she was yanked out, stumbling to the wet asphalt.
— Sorry, lady. We need the car — one of them said, his tone dismissive as she hit the ground hard.
The group of four men moved quickly, with an air of desperate efficiency. Though they bore military-grade weapons, their appearance was anything but official. One of them, bare-chested, had blood-soaked bandages wrapped hastily around his chest and arm. He clutched a shotgun tightly, his grip trembling.
— Please, my kids! — she shouted, her voice cracking as she motioned toward the back seat. — Let me get them out!
The men hesitated briefly before the one with the shotgun nodded toward the others. They opened the back doors, and Kalene and Favo scrambled out, clutching at each other as tears streamed down their faces.
— Go. Move — one barked, waving the barrel of his rifle toward the shadows of the shopping center.
As they regrouped near the edge of the lot, the men settled into the car. Inside, their voices carried, rough and hurried.
— The radio’s still out — grumbled one of them.
— We’ll find the others. They couldn’t have gone far — said another, fiddling with the dashboard.
— What about the bugs? — asked the youngest-looking one, his voice barely audible.
— We’ll keep hunting — the bare-chested man replied coldly. — Once we find everybody.
— WAIT! W-What the fuck happening out there? — she called called out, her voice trembling but loud enough to carry over the rain. — What are those things?!
One of the men, the one in the driver’s seat, turned his head slightly, his expression hardened.
— Could be demons, aliens, an extra-dimensional freak show... — answered the rifleman peeking shyly on the street. — mother said they are actually angels, bringing the end of the world.
— Who cares? We’re dead men anyway… — muttered the bandaged man, his tone dry and resigned. — What we do care about — he added, racking his shotgun with a grim smile — is that they bleed.
— Yeah, so we’re at least going out putting up a fight. — the youngest said, his voice shaking slightly.
The engine roared to life, and the car peeled out of the parking lot, leaving Kalene and the kids huddled together in the rain-soaked dark.
She watched the car disappear down the ruined street, its engine roaring against the steady drizzle of rain. For a moment, she hesitated, unsure of what to do next. But if they knew something she didn’t—and it certainly seemed like they did—then it was better to follow the same path.
Peeking cautiously from the edge of the parking lot, she motioned for the kids to follow her.
— Favo, cover Kalene’s eyes for me, okay? — she said firmly, her voice low but commanding.
The boy nodded, wrapping his arm protectively over his brother’s face as they stepped out onto the street.
The block was a war zone. Cars abandoned at awkward angles, some smashed into poles or each other. Others burned, their frames scorched black. The ground was littered with bodies—some human, others monstrous—sprawled together in grotesque heaps. Her stomach churned, but she forced herself forward, navigating the chaos while keeping her kids close.
In the distance, she could see her stolen car weaving cautiously through the carnage, its headlights flickering. The men inside seemed to be carefully maneuvering around the wreckage when something emerged from a side street—a hulking, tank-like creature.
The collision was violent and sudden. The beast slammed into the car from the side, flipping it sharply with the force of a battering ram. The horn blared endlessly as the car came to rest, crumpled and twisted. The creature paused briefly, shaking shards of glass from its armored head. Its massive, crab-like claws snapped erratically, and it let out a guttural roar. Then, without so much as a glance back at the wreckage, it thundered off down the street, leaving the ruined vehicle in its wake.
She pulled her children even closer, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she whispered:
— Keep moving. Don’t look back.
Favo tightened his grip on her hand, his small fingers trembling against hers as they picked their way through the wreckage. The rain had begun to ease, but the chill lingered, soaking into their clothes and bones.
— Mom? — he asked, his voice hesitant, barely louder than a whisper.
— Yeah, sweetie? — she replied, glancing down at him without breaking stride..
— Why... why is this happening? — He paused, his ears downing as he tried to piece together his thoughts.
— I don’t know, Favo — she answered honestly, her voice thick with exhaustion. — I really don’t know. — She didn’t stop walking. She looked ahead, at the broken street littered with bodies and shattered glass, and shook her head.
He was quiet for a moment, but she could feel the weight of his thoughts. Finally, he spoke again, his words careful and deliberate.
— Do you think we’re bad people?
The question stopped her in her tracks. She knelt down in front of him, her hands resting gently on his small shoulders as she tried to meet his eyes.
— What? No. No, Favo. Why would you think that?
— Because... the monsters got the bad men. I hope we’re not bad too. — he shifted toward the distant wreckage, where the crumpled car was still visible in the fading rain.
Her heart ached at his words, and for a moment, she struggled to find the right thing to say. Instead, she pulled him into a tight hug, her chin resting on his damp hair.
— You’re a good boy, Favo. And I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe. I promise… Let’s focus on trying to find your dad.
As she pulled away from the hug, her eyes instinctively drifted upward. Through the thinning rain and darkened clouds, she caught sight of strange red lights glowing faintly far above the horizon. At first, they looked like airplanes, moving in eerie, deliberate patterns across the sky. But as she stared, a cold certainty settled in her chest—those were not planes. The lights pulsed irregularly, too organic in their rhythm, their paths too chaotic, like a swarm of something watching from above.
Her throat tightened, and she quickly looked back down at her children, forcing a weak smile as if to shield them from the fear bubbling in her chest.
— Come on, let’s keep moving — she said, gripping their hands tighter.
The admiral stood amidst the chaos, the bridge of the orbital station boiling with tension. Alarms blared, their brown tones almost drowned out by the cacophony of voices over intercoms, the clatter of officers scrambling between stations, and the distant, spaced tremors that rocked the station as its weapons fired relentlessly into the void.
A radio operator nearby slammed his headset down in frustration.
— Sir, Delta Wing confirms: they’re out of fighters. Repeat, no available fighters left in their hangar.
Before the admiral could respond, another operator turned from her console, her face pale.
— Losses are climbing, Admiral. Third fleet’s down to twenty percent strength, and we’ve lost contact with the forward perimeter. Estimated two hundred vessels destroyed or disabled so far, sir.
The admiral slowly removed his cap, clutching it tightly in his hand. He walked toward the thick steelglass window dominating the forward wall of the command center. The reinforced viewport offered a view both awe-inspiring and horrific: the vast edge of Auot’zae glowed serenely in the distance, lit by the twin suns, while a furious light show raged just beyond.
Small and medium-sized hoku ships darted and spun, pouring volleys of fire into their hulking adversaries—massive, hemispherical alien vessels that glided with unnerving grace, their underbellies pulsing with sinister red lights. Explosions flickered in rapid succession as ships on both sides were obliterated, debris scattering like fireflies in the black.
The admiral pressed a hand against the glass, his fingers trembling as he watched another human frigate break apart under a concentrated barrage.
— More fighters? — he muttered, almost to himself, his voice heavy with resignation. — I don’t even think we have enough bullets for all of them...
He lowered his head, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. The bridge continued its frantic pace, but the admiral’s eyes remained fixed on the spectacle outside—a battle that seemed more like a final stand with every passing second.
The operator’s voice cut through the din of the command center, loud and urgent:
— Sir, incoming report from the HEDF Karapa. They’re retreating with severe losses, but they’ve retrieved critical intel. Survivor group from Kolel Station.
The admiral turned sharply, his cap still in hand.
— Put it on screen.
— Audio is all we got, sir…
The main screen flickered to life, static hissing as the message struggled through interference caused by the ongoing firefight. A moment later, an audio transmission came through, distorted but comprehensible.
— This is Lieutenant Opel Moreé, 12th fighter pilot for Kolel Station. Reporting on behalf of the survivors.
The lieutenant's voice was steady, though there was an undercurrent of exhaustion.
— Approximately six hours ago, Point Amskal—a cluster of scientific satellites and relay stations—went dark. First, we lost contact with the repair team. Then, its companion trading station, Lofasa. Recon orders were issued, and we were dispatched to investigate. What we encountered... well, it’s not the Dominion. It’s not any of our colonies. And it’s definitely not the Chelok. Whatever we’re fighting, it’s a foreign power—highly advanced and coming from the north galactic pole.
The admiral exhaled slowly, his knuckles whitening around the brim of his cap. He stepped forward, narrowing his eyes at the static-filled display.
— Tell me something I don’t already know, Lieutenant, — he said, his voice flat and cold.
There was a pause. When Moreé spoke again, his voice carried a hesitant weight.
— Sir, we’ve been observing their in-system jumps. Based on our calculations... it’s highly reasonable to assume—if not certain—that Auot’zae is both the first and last bastion for the Hoku. — A murmur rippled through the bridge as Moreé pressed on, urgency creeping into his voice.
— They must have launched simultaneous attacks on all our colonies. Communications won’t reach us from the outposts for years due to the lightspeed delay. By the time anyone knows... it’ll be too late.
The admiral froze, the implications hitting him like a physical blow. His grip on the cap faltered for a moment before he firmly placed it back on his head. His voice came out low and gravelly.
— Open a line to the Department of Defense Chief. I want authorization for complete orbital shredding of the planet. Now.
Moreé interrupted before the operator could end the call.
— Admiral, wait! Orbital debris won’t stop them. Point Amskal didn’t go dark because they were overwhelmed. The enemy jumped straight through it—and the Lofasa station. They even clipped through the comet cloud. They’re coming straight from interstellar space, bypassing all traditional —
— Cut the feed, — the admiral barked, silencing the audio mid-sentence.
The bridge fell quiet save for the alarms and vibrations from the relentless gunfire outside.
— You heard the order. Get me that line, I want every cubic zaega from up here to the Nampel-Amoten belts completely scorched now! — For a moment, the admiral stared at the now-silent screen, then turned to his officers.
The comms panel let out a dull beep of rejection as Lieutenant Opel Moreé slammed his fist into it, frustration boiling over.
— That bastard is going to nuke the whole of low orbit thinking it will stop them?
The bridge of the HEDF Karapa was tense, its dim lighting flickering as damage reports scrolled across secondary displays. Captain Alira Vos stood nearby, gripping the edge of her console tightly as she listened to Moreé’s outburst. Her face was set in grim determination, though weariness tugged at the corners of her eyes.
— He’s following protocol, — she muttered, though there was no conviction in her voice. "Protocol designed to stop a rebellion or a rogue fleet, not... whatever this is."
She straightened, addressing the room.
— Listen up. A full orbital shredding will create a wall of interference strong enough to fry all but the most heavily shielded electronics. Any ship caught in the blast radius without military-grade protection will be shredded. And even those won't hold up for long. It’s standard procedure—one I’ve only read about during the academy. Never thought I’d see the day it would actually be used.
— And against what? — Moreé barked. — Against them? It’s like trying to block up the sun with a strainer.
— You’re right, Lieutenant. It’s a desperate move against an enemy far beyond its capabilities. But that doesn’t mean we can let it happen unchecked. — Captain Vos let out a long sigh, tilting her head back as the vibrations of another impact rippled through the Karapa’s hull.
— Send another transmission to Auot’zae. Priority one. Let them know we’re stalling. — She turned to her communications officer.
— Stall? For what? — Moreé blinked, his frustration momentarily giving way to confusion.
Vos’ lips pressed into a thin line as she pulled up a chart on her terminal, her fingers darting across the console.
— For the Chelok. There’s a small fleet of scout vessels lurking on the system's periphery. They’ve been observing as part of their routine patrols. They’re not the empire’s finest, but their ships are nimble, and they’ve got firepower that might actually make a dent in those hulls.
— And you think they’ll come back?
— They’ll come back, — Vos replied firmly. — Chelok don’t abandon distress calls. They are very territorial, and a threat to us is a threat to their backyard. If they’ve picked up even a whisper of our situation, they’re already turning around… If you get the chance to meet one, you should try fighting them, they’re as tough and clever as the arrene, but unlike those damn squids, chelok know how to celebrate.
She glanced back at the comms panel, her ears twitching as she looked at the ship's status.
— The chief has to hold off. If we obliterate orbit now, we lose everything—our station, our chance to regroup, and any hope of leveraging the Chelok’s aid. I won’t let that happen.
— And if the chief doesn’t listen? — Moreé nodded reluctantly, leaning against the console.
Vos looked at him, her voice dropping calmly.
— Then we make them listen. Get back on that line, Lieutenant. Convince them if you have to. And prepare the crew for evasive maneuvers. We’ll need to buy as much time as we can.
The Karapa’s bridge moved into motion, officers scrambling to relay commands and reroute systems. Vos stared at the tactical display, her gut twisting as more red blips lit up the screen.
— We just need them to hold... — she murmured under her breath. — Just for a little longer. — she turned to watch through the window, the Karapa’s cannons firing silently into the void, their enemies several hundreds of zaega away and out of view.
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