The observation deck of the orbital command center buzzed with the ambient, static noise of the holotable. Past the tinted observation window in the command room, the bright, luminous blue star that was Lysandros beamed with hot white light, bathing the metallic chamber with its celestial glow. Beyond the star, the vast, dark void of space expanded in all directions. It was oddly calming.

  Due to the heavily tinted window, the chamber remained somewhat dim despite the star’s radiance, lest it blind everyone in the room.

  The holotable before him projected the Eryndal system in great detail, a swirling, three dimensional image of planets, graphs of numbers, and navigation lines, showing red enemy units and the blue Nepturan corvettes.

  They had pulled their research craft out of the system immediately.

  Marcus rested against the table’s edge, his knuckles white against the warm steel. Lieutenant Carthen stood to his left, silent but watching carefully, awaiting any orders. A faint shimmer to Marcus’s right awakened the holographic form of the Grand Admiral.

  “The fleet is in position, your excellency,” Den reported with the calm tone of a soldier. “Our corvettes are holding position at the system’s edge, as you instructed. The enemy hasn’t yet moved to engage, but they are preparing.”

  Marcus nodded, taking a sip of cool water from a glass. It calmed his nerves, and he wiped a drop of sweat running down his temple. He eyed the blue outlined ships, Neptura’s ships, which were in an attack formation, ready to pounce like a tiger onto unsuspecting prey. “Are their buildings heavily defended?”

  Den’s hologram flickered. “The enemy’s orbital command center has minor defence fortifications, but it’s nothing we can’t handle. The real threat is their navy and their fighter escorts. Their craft appear smaller than ours but nimble, which could give them some tactical advantage but not enough to withstand a prolonged engagement.”

  “And our fleet?” he said with increasing unease, trying to hold back the thoughts of doubt. Never doubt yourself once you commit… Marcus thought, recalling the many business lessons that he learned back on Earth. Those principles could very well hold true in statecraft and military matters as they did in business.

  “Our corvettes will hold them,” Den replied. “If you look to your holomap, you will see that our fleet has an estimated firepower of 533, which is a rough estimate of our strength provided by the GCI, factoring in everything like ship design, hull armour, weapons, technology, and the experience of the commanders and crews on the ships themselves. We have limited intel on the enemy, but based on scans of their ships, they appear to have a firepower of 308.”

  Marcus nearly laughed as the anxiety that had a second ago rocked him to the core washed away in a single glorious instant. “Only 308? What the hell were we worried about earlier? We’ll crush them!”

  The Admiral grinned, which Marcus just now noticed was a rare sight in the man. “Let us not be too hasty, excellency. The number is an estimation, and we should always employ rationale rather than blind confidence.”

  “What is your recommendation, then?” Marcus said, leaning closer to the holotable. The light painted his face a shade of luminous blue. “I’m rather new to matters of war. I just know whoever has more men usually wins.”

  “Usually…” Den rubbed his chin. “But not always. I recommend we strike now, hitting their mining facilities and bases first as our fleet makes its way across the system. We can bait them into engaging us on our terms.”

  Well, I can’t think of anything better, Marcus thought, nodding slowly. “Relay those orders, Admiral. I want them gone before the enemy has time to react.”

  The hologram of Den saluted. “I will trust Carthen to guide you through the battle as it proceeds, your excellency. I must be with my officers now. Glory to Neptura.”

  The Grand Archon nodded. “Glory to Neptura. And godspeed, Den. Good luck.” The image of the Admiral faded. Marcus exhaled, letting out a relaxed breath with a new sense of confidence. We’ll crush them. 533 to 308. Numbers don’t lie!

  Oh, how glorious the rush felt surging through his veins as he watched his corvettes moving through the Eryndal system to strike their first targets. And I commanded it, me! They will conquer this star system for me! It was almost intoxicating, an ecstasy more powerful than anything a simple pill could have given him. Once upon a time, the intoxication of power had seemed a weird thing to Marcus, he never quite understood it. Why politicians or leaders held their grip so firmly until the very last moment…

  Now I am beginning to understand…

  It didn’t feel so different from being a successful businessman, he thought now. That itself still carried a sense of prestige and praise, and won admiration from the lesser people around him. It seemed wearing a symbolic crown and having armies only amplified that feeling.

  The star elven corvettes, with their sleek, sharp design and silverish hulls, lingered near the edges of their system. Were they afraid? Unaware of what was going on? He couldn’t tell but felt optimistic all the same. This’ll teach them to rattle their sabres at him.

  The initial rush died down after a few hours of waiting, courtesy of the vastness of space, and then Lieutenant Carthen announced, “Your excellency, the fleet will engage the first enemy mining station momentarily. The enemy does not look to be responding yet.”

  “Fair enough.” Marcus gripped the edge of the table. If they wanted to go without a fight, so be it. “Let’s make this quick.”

  The first attack was swift and relentless. From Marcus’s view, the battle played out in miniature scale on the holotable, his vessels weaving around like a swarm of wasps around their target.

  Zooming into the detailed projection to get a better look, Marcus watched his corvettes spread seamlessly into attack formations. The lead ships launched their missiles, sending burning streaks of plasma that pierced through space toward the enemy facilities.

  The projectiles hit their target.

  A dazzling display of fire and destruction erupted from the red marked mining station over Eryndal 6, sending shattered metal debris flying in all directions like shards of broken glass.

  “The remaining orbital mining and research stations will be targeted next, and then we will strike at their command center,” Carthen reported, betraying no emotion. Only the stern discipline of a professional soldier.

  He watched the rapid collapse of the enemy infrastructure with a fiery, primal hunger as his corvettes invaded the system. Chunks of burning metal flying off amidst a whirlwind of fire and death. It’s going well… almost too well. And the enemy fleet still wasn’t responding, which Marcus was now beginning to find strange.

  As the Nepturan corvettes descended on the enemy command center, its defences returned fire. Automated guns trying to fend off his fighters and ships. The corvettes banked sharp, their shields soaking up most of the feeble counterfire.

  Marcus couldn’t help but glance at the star elven corvettes lingering on the edge of the system, letting their own people be slaughtered. “Carthen, why aren’t they engaging us?”

  “I’m wondering the same thing,” the Lieutenant replied. “They’re outnumbered and in lighter ships. Perhaps they fear destruction and are trying to preserve their fleet?”

  The Nepturan fleet continued its onslaught, hammering the enemy command center with a bombardment of missiles and gunfire. What was a pristine, silver metallic construct floating amidst space was now engulfed in thick plumes of fire and floating debris.

  “I don’t know,” Marcus muttered as a knot twisted in his stomach. “Just feels all too easy, doesn’t it?”

  Something felt off.

  Then, the system lit up.

  A warning chime echoed across the holotable. Red markings flashed across the edge of the Eryndal system, near where the enemy corvettes waited in some strange formation.

  Marcus frowned. His heart fluttered in his chest.

  “Four enemy corvettes just entered the system via hypertravel,” Lieutenant Carthen said, as monotone as ever. The clone hid his fear well, if he was frightened at all. Maybe they feel no fear, these soldiers. Perhaps they were bred that way. It sent a shudder through Marcus’s skin.

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  The holotable adjusted its readings to account for the new information. The number of ships in the enemy fleet now surged from five to nine! Their firepower reading shot up to 555.

  His stomach sank. So this was their plan. They fucking trapped me! 555 to 533. It wasn’t that big of a difference, but it was still more. And they had nine ships to his six. Oh my god, they’re going to beat us. They’re going to beat us and fucking kill me… His heart pounded and adrenaline rushed through his blood, numbing his body.

  “Lieutenant!” Marcus snapped, panic seeping into his voice. “Are you in touch with Den? Ask him what the hell we do now! Should we retreat?”

  “Yes, sir.” Carthen nodded, reading a fast array of words projected amidst the simulation of the battle on the holotable. “I’ve relayed your concerns to the Grand Admiral.” Carthen turned toward Marcus now, his gaze dropping momentarily to the Grand Archon’s trembling fingers. “He recommends an alternative strategy. The reinforcing corvettes have arrived at some distance from their allies. It will take them some time as they close the distance and re-group to get into their formations. The Grand Admiral recommends immediately moving on the reinforcing corvettes, catching them before they can join their friends. If we move swiftly, we can destroy both groups in detail. He awaits your command.”

  Oh shit, Marcus thought, panicking. There was no time to weigh every decision going through his mind right now. The military catastrophe, the political fallout, where he stood in the middle of it all, how he may live and tell the tale. Whether he’d be killed by the star elves or lynched by his own men for incompetence. It’s too much. Fuck it. Den is a professional. I’ll trust his judgement. Be it on his head.

  “Yes!” Marcus barked. “Yes, do it! Now!”

  Carthen relayed the command with urgency, dashing his fingers into a series of buttons below him. The holotable’s display shifted, and the Nepturan fleet peeled away from the ruined orbital command center in tight formation, surging toward the newly arrived enemy corvettes. Their blue thrusters flared against the dark recesses of space.

  Marcus leaned in, watching the light display like a hawk. This better work, Den, else all could be lost.

  The enemy ships were caught off guard. Still accelerating from their jump into the system, they had yet to take formation, and thus were spread out, vulnerable.

  The Nepturan missiles streaked out across the void, leaving faint blue ripples of plasma in their wake, followed by squadrons of fighters and heavy gun fire. They hammered into the shining, silver hulls of the enemy ships. One of the star elven corvettes yanked itself to the side with a sharp turn, but a well-placed shot from a Nepturan corvette detonated its engine core, shattering its hull in two with a gargantuan explosion.

  “One enemy ship neutralized,” Carthen reported.

  Marcus sighed with relief, throwing his head back as he leaned against the table. Yes! That’s it! Cut them all to ribbons before they can retaliate!

  But the star elves changed up their movements quickly. Their nimble ships darted in all directions, twisting through the narrow gaps between the Nepturan gun fire. Then it was their turn. Their weapons turned, lighting up with radiant green light before sending scorching energy beams lancing across space. One of the Nepturan corvettes took a direct hit at the front of its hull. Its shields flickered before cracking and vanishing.

  “NCS Resolute has lost its shield,” Carthen said calmly. “Her hull is taking heavy damage.”

  The Nepturan corvettes split into two attack groups, maneuvering in an arc to surround the remaining enemy ships. The lead corvette, NCS Vanguard, darted through enemy fire and launched another barrage of torpedoes. The blast caught another star elven vessel dead-on, breaking its hull into molten fragments.

  “Two down now,” Carthen said. “Their formation is breaking.”

  Attack! He wanted to scream but held his tongue. What a useless command that would be. He had to trust that Den had the matter well in hand.

  The reinforcing enemy ships were falling, but victory wasn’t secured yet. Their remaining vessels fought hard, retaliating with deadly bursts of energy blasts as their main fleet moved to support them.

  Marcus gulped.

  The main star elven fleet closed in. Like silver daggers their corvettes glided through space at rapid speed.

  “Your excellency,” Carthen said. “The Grand Admiral says we have two options. We can hold where we are and try to finish off their reinforcements with a final, aggressive attack or fall back into a more defensive position and force the enemy into our crossfire. He recommends the former.”

  “Do it then!” Marcus snapped, wiping a layer of sweat from his brow. “The hell is he asking me for? He’s the Admiral!”

  “As you command, your excellency.” Carthen nodded and returned to typing, his eyes darting along moving holographs and incoming transmissions.

  The Nepturan corvettes pressed the attack, launching a vicious volley of fire on the scrambling star elven vessels. However, the two remaining ships evaded the Nepturan fire well and held out long enough for the main enemy fleet to join them.

  “The main enemy fleet are moving to engage us,” Carthen’s voice whipped through the command room. “The Grand Admiral has commanded our ships turn to face them.”

  We were so close… Marcus thought with increasing unease, his fingers clutching the holotable so hard he thought he might snap it. And victory just slipped away.

  Now regrouped, the star elven fleet numbered at seven corvettes to Marcus’s six. They surged forward with emboldened aggression. The fighter swarms attacked like a ravenous hive of bees. Their energy beams crisscrossed through space like a dazzling green light show while burning blue missiles rocketed back at them.

  Marcus grinded his teeth as he watched the firepower numbers of both fleets trickle down minute by minute as their ships battered each other. What was one second ago an elegant tactical dance of military strategy had turned into a brutal slugfest.

  One of the Nepturan corvettes took a full broadside from an enemy energy weapon. Its hull buckled, the metal practically expanding like a bursting gut before a violent explosion claimed the ship.

  “We’ve lost Tarken,” Carthen announced.

  Shit… His nails scraped against the table’s metal edge.

  The minutes passed like hours. Each agonizing shot sent terrible fear through him, yet the onslaught persisted. Ship for ship, life for life. The fire power numbers of both fleets slowly dwindled down. 400… 378… 324… 301… This is far too close for my liking…

  The reality slowly dawned on him.

  “We’re grinding them to a standstill, your excellency,” Carthen said, now looking at Marcus. “But our chance of pressing a further attack dwindles by the moment. Our ships are taking heavy damage.”

  Marcus stared at the interactive holo projection of the battle, mouth gaped open. They weren’t losing per se… But we aren’t winning either. He picked at his nail. Marcus had no idea what to do and felt utterly at the mercy of chance now.

  “Tell me if I’m wrong, Carthen,” Marcus muttered. “But if we keep fighting at this rate, we’re just going to grind each other down until we have nothing left?”

  The clone looked at him, and for once Marcus saw something in those usually stoic eyes. A hint of worry. He nodded. “Yes, your excellency. Would you like to relay a command to the Grand Admiral?”

  Marcus pressed his lips, trying to run the possibilities in his mind. My instincts tell me to run. Dammit, I’m not a military commander! Their numbers dwindled by the hour. Three of his corvettes had been destroyed, and the enemy had four remaining, though one was a smoking ruin of its former self, desperately trying to flee the cross fire.

  He looked over the stats himself, seeing how damaged every ship still fighting was. All were pulsing red. Broken shards of smouldering fighters drifted like a noxious cloud around the battlefield. He may not be a military commander, but he saw no reason or benefit in risking his last three remaining corvettes.

  Marcus took a deep breath, trying to suppress his anger at this blatant failure and grave miscalculation. “Pull them back. Jump to the Lysandros system. At least if they pursue, we have the command center here to aid our fleet. Or what remains of it.”

  They had already proven their point to these star elves, he supposed, in that they would tolerate no hostility. But Marcus was under no delusions. This operation was a failure, and this failure would be the topic of their next government meeting…

  “Yes, your excellency,” the Lieutenant said, and dashed the order into the holotable. “The Grand Admiral agrees with your assessment. Our ships will fall back and make the hyperjump to Lysandros.”

  “Very well.” Marcus sighed. He’d have to get out of here soon. Hypertravel still took a few months even at that speed. Marcus needed to be back home to Neptura before any hostile ships got here, should they choose to pursue.

  But looking at the holotable, he watched the red highlighted enemy corvettes. They remained in their position.

  They did not pursue. The battlefield froze in uneasy silence, littered with a graveyard of ghost ships and thousands of lost souls.

  Marcus clenched his fists. Maybe they hadn’t been totally beaten, but they had failed to gain control of the Eryndal system and likely wouldn’t be able to try again anytime soon. He’d have to review and rebuild his fleet. Maybe try engaging the star elves in diplomacy to reach conciliatory terms, unless this skirmish was equal to a declaration of all out war.

  The one thing he knew for sure was that this wasn’t over.

  But for now, the line was drawn.

  “I must return to Neptura,” Marcus said.