[Oliver's PoV]

  Oliver watched as Admiral Orton walked away. Orton didn’t hurry. He moved with steady, controlled steps, like a man already planning his next move. Soon, the haze of hover traffic swallowed him. Street vendors shouted over the noise, selling glowing trinkets and hot, fusion-grilled skewers.

  Oliver knew what would come next. The Republic would switch from polite words to force. Blockade fleets would slide in from the system’s edge.

  They thought they understood Atlas Blackwell. His smooth, polished public image. But they didn’t know Oliver at all.

  He and his team had studied every move of the Republic’s fights with the Empire. They watched replay battles and duels. Sent spies to both sides, learning from every communication. From all that, they found patterns and predicted the next steps. They turned data into a set of backup plans.

  "He was judging me," Thalos remarked, his voice a smooth modulation.

  “Who wouldn’t?” Oliver said with a small, crooked smile. “In a place like this, where would you find a surfer?”

  Thalos tilted his head, his eyes flickering like he was confused. Oliver wondered again if it was a hardware glitch in Thalos’s neural core or a software quirk from when he was built. He’d thought about it before, but never tried to fix it. Changing him wasn’t an option. Thalos was more than metal and code.

  “Let’s head back,” Oliver said, lowering his voice as the admiral’s shuttle engines began to rumble far off, making the ground tremble. “They’ll start within hours—blockade ships testing our shields, maybe a fake orbital drop to see how we react.”

  “Still, it fits our plans,” Thalos said, watching Orton fade into the crowd.

  “The Lot's wasn’t our first choice for this first battle,” Oliver said as they headed toward the main square. “But it will work.” Around them, holo billboards blinked with local alerts. Small groups of people whispered about the “diplomatic” ship that had arrived, not knowing a storm was forming.

  Oliver and Thalos returned to Headquarters. Ever since they detected the incoming “diplomatic” ship, the halls had burst into motion. Off-duty operatives were pulled from their rest by blaring alarms. Now the place buzzed with activity.

  When Oliver stepped inside, people looked up from their stations, eyes sharp with expectation. The talks had failed. A siege was coming.

  Oliver stood at the center of the communications chamber. The room was packed with glowing consoles and holographic displays. Around him, live feeds from orbital probes streamed across the screens.

  "All stations, stand ready," Oliver commanded. He and Thalos positioned themselves shoulder to shoulder behind the Hermes.

  The Hermes operatives dissected every scrap of intel with surgical precision. Probing signals from satellites, intercepting warp echoes from the system's outer rim, anything that could be important, they had a way to find and consume.

  "They're lifting from the hangar," Hermes-1 announced. A central hologram bloomed into life, showing a three-dimensional image of the Dawn ascending. Its colossal hull venting plasma plumes. Every Hermes paused for a heartbeat, their gaze focused on the display.

  "Good," Oliver affirmed, his tone filled with calculated calm, broadcasting across the linked comms network. "Ease the triggers, all hands. No preemptive strikes until they fire the first shot. We won't hand them the narrative twist. Let the locals see their aggression and deny them any chance of getting reinforcements from the other Great Houses."

  "Ship breaching atmo. They're pulling away," Hermes-1 updated. The hologram shifts to track the Dawn's ascent, its form piercing the sky of Aquarius.

  All eyes in the base were fixed on the holograms.

  "Incoming transmission, it's encrypted. Cracking," Hermes-1 declared.

  "Ladies and gentlemen..." The admiral's voice crackled through the speakers, distorted by lost fragments in the decryption. "Today's annexation talks with Aquarius ended in failure. Yet our mission continues."

  "The citizens of Aquarius have grown complacent in their peace, insulated from the Empire's shadow. We must illuminate the chasm between those who merely survive on the borderlands and those who wage unyielding war against imperial tyranny."

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  Oliver's pulse quickened; he anticipated the climax, the pivotal phrase that would propel their plans forward.

  "Transmit to the assault fleets. Starting this moment, we initiate a blockade of the Aquarius solar system." Orton sealed the command.

  "Perfect!" Oliver exulted, and a triumphant grin appeared on his face as cheers rippled through the room. "Engage defense protocols. Guns hot, drones airborne. Start swatting down any orbital sats jamming our teleport grids. Shift to full defensive posture. Take them out of the sky."

  "Aye, sir," the Hermes chorus affirmed, their voices a unified surge as orders cascaded through the network. Cannon batteries whirring to life in concealed silos, swarms of interceptor drones launching from hidden bays, shields flickering into barriers around key installations.

  "Start broadcasts to the civilians. Relay the Republic's decree," Oliver commanded, the second wave of orders rippling outward like a shockwave. "Reinforce the tunnels, start shelter protocols. Bombardments aren't imminent, but keep everyone ready." His words echoed across the base's comms, spurring teams across the city into motion.

  Each Hermes operative pivoted between consoles with fluid precision as they orchestrated the city's dual-layered defenses. Aboveground turrets whirred to life from concealed silos; below, seismic dampeners engaged in the bunkers. Across the planet, in remote colonies, encrypted alerts went out. Even though they were far from the capital, they followed protocol.

  “Defense grid online. Cannons online. Drones launching. Orbital countermeasures active,” Hermes?2 reported, his voice calm and clear. On the holo, interceptor drones shot from hidden bays like a swarm of metal hornets. Blue thrusters flared as they climbed into the sky.

  “Enemy ships are completing their jumps,” Hermes?3 said. “They’re appearing at the system’s edge and closing from all directions.” The display shifted to a tactical map. Republic destroyers and cruisers slid out of hyperspace and spread into formation, a wide net tightening around Aquarius.

  “Diplomatic vessel deploying anti-teleport satellites,” Hermes?4 reported. The display zoomed in on the Dawn’s underside as it released clusters of smooth, sphere?shaped jammers. Within moments, the grid was locked down. No one would be teleporting in or out.

  “Alright, let's move,” Oliver said, eyes bright with focus. “Get the pilots ready. Fighters in the air and hit those satellites first. Keep the blockade in place, but make them think we’re panicking. Desperation sells the trick.” His orders set off a chain reaction. Hangar bays opened across the planet. Squadrons of fast fighters roared up through the clouds, trails of ion glow behind them. Their cannons powered up as they hunted the jammers. “Prep the mechs for contingencies. I want a full alert.”

  “Mechs mobilizing. Daedalus reports Project Zeus is still incomplete,” Hermes?2 warned.

  “No problem,” Oliver said, hiding the knot in his stomach. “Get the other ones ready. I can pilot a secondary if needed.” In his mind, he ran through the backups.

  “Mechs ready. Leviathans on standby,” Hermes?2 reported. The holo shifted to show giant walkers waking in their bays. They stood ready for battle.

  “Sir,” Hermes?1 cut in, voice tight. “Destroyers and cruisers inbound. They’re sealing every gap and locking the jump points. We’re surrounded; no hyperspace jump is possible. Full siege confirmed. Your orders?”

  Oliver stood at the center of the comms chamber. His Hermes team leaned over their consoles.

  "Any news from the diplomatic vessel?" Oliver inquired.

  "None," Hermes-1 replied, fingers flying across haptic controls. The Dawn hung in low orbit like a colossus, its hangar rings sealed and its engines idling in silence, a false envoy turned into a siege engine.

  "Excellent," Oliver affirmed, turning to address the assembly, his words broadcasting across the base's net to every outpost and bunker. "Maintain surveillance on their comms. They seem content to choke us out under blockade for now, starving us without a shot fired." He gestured expansively, the holograms responding to his will, zooming on vulnerable flanks in the Republic's formation. "We'll turn their game against them. We'll start with small skirmishes. I want short, sharp jabs, no prolonged dogfights. Deploy corvettes in swarms. Use everything to make them fast and agile. Hit and fade."

  “We’ll hit their supply lines,” Oliver said, tracing paths on the holo. “This planet is their only resupply point in this system. Even if they’re stocked now, they’ll have to send ships out for reinforcements soon. We’ll strike in those moments. Quick, planned hits to drain their supplies.”

  “Sir, won’t that pull us away from the Orks?” Hermes?12 asked. He was the newbie who was still learning the ropes, his visor showing both eagerness and doubt.

  “It will, for now,” Oliver said, using the question to teach. “But we deal with one threat at a time. We can go back to the greenskins later. If we underestimate these guys, we will lose for sure.” His voice held a confident tone. “First, we break this siege. Then we push the Orks again or move to the next phase of the plan.”

  “Aye, sir,” the room answered together. The sound rolled through the comms as operatives sat up straighter.

  Thalos stood beside Oliver with his arms crossed, his bright floral shorts the one odd splash of color in the strict, military room.

  “Initial fighters engaging satellites. Corvettes launching now,” Hermes?2 reported. Fast interceptors climbed through the upper air, their lasers shredding the anti?teleport jammers.

  Oliver clapped once, a sharp crack that drew every eye. “Put the camera feeds up. Let’s turn up the pressure. Show them we’re not hiding.”