“If a man steps oh of war, he has but two ons. Wield a sword to take down a man, but a lie is more suited to shatter a nation.”— From Etkragret Kraghul (The Edicts hul), god of war aion.

  “O three thousand kilometers from the phe fleet is to turn starboard,” I tell Gerard. The ship shakes as the volleys break against Caedes’ shield, and my hold on the holoprojecthtens. I study Gerard’s face. He is biting the inside of his cheek, weighing my words.

  Between us is the holoprojector, with a map of Marcoria and its surrounding area. Five hundred kilometers from the p Rhu’Kra’s fleet is waiting for us, stationed directly in our line of sight. One of the smaller moons is passing them by, c parts of the DPP for now. My fleet has just now reached its full speed, and is around four-thousand kilometers away from the p.

  Gerard lifts his eyes up from the map. “If we do that, their pary based anti-air will be in rao hit us. We should -”

  “I’ve made myself clear,” I wave off his , although the same burdens my mind. No one has besieged Marcoria for a long time, and we have very little information about their ground capabilities. I only hope they don’t expect this move from us. But this is war, and we are soldiers. Soldiers follow erard’s eyes still linger on me. His finger hovers above the map, not too far from the p. I nod, “permission granted, speak freely.”

  “They will decimate us, Grand General. We should turn at three thousand two hundred fifty. Especially since you ordered almost all fighters to engage against the two cruisers at our aft in order to protect our damaged one,” he says, looking at the holographic map. “Our cruisers here need a s. Destroyers are great, but something smaller, more expandable is better.”

  I nod and turn towards the viewport. The red p is in front of me, growing with each passing sed. I barely make out the silhouettes of the Marcorian cruisers, with their dull e and green color schemes. But the fshes of the pulse ons illumihem, even if it is for a moment. I see my target. Their fgship stands off ter to the right of their formation, its starboard side fag me. That is how most of their fleet faces us - on their starboard or port side. I take a deep breath. Rhu’Kra kneould have to use a tactic such as this. “Either way we turn, they chase us…” I mutter to myself and offer a prayer to the gods.

  The air tightens with the so-familiar smell of sweat aal. The pleasant fragrance of the Ospire Lily is all but a distant memory now. I look at my watch. “Once we begin our maneuver, we will have one minute and about seventeen seds before we ehat zone. For fifty-five seds, pary fire will bombard us, and during that time, all our puns will have the best firing positions against enemy cruisers. Not to mention the ideal distance.” I draw our trajectory on the map with my finger. “Half of the Marcoria will have their engines exposed, and we will have an advantage for a moment. That is a risk, but a risk worth taking.” I finish matter-of-factly, not letting him say another word.

  He bites his lip, a vein on his head throbbing, but he doesn’t challenge me. Pushing himself from the holoprojector, he makes for his station, barely keeping his bance as another shot shakes the bridge. He reys my message to the entire fleet, and I pray he doesn’t crush the unicator with that grip.

  There are whispers from the surrounding crew. None dare to look at me for more than a sed, however. The only noise now is their fingers running across holo-keyboards. A heavy sigh escapes my lips as I fold my arms ay chest. I gaze forward at the viewport but see nothing but e psma flying by. The radar indicates that most shots nd oroyers, which is good. That is their mission anyway - to provide a s.

  “Exeg the turarboard,” my helmsman says, his voice steady.

  “HBC Ptigith and HBC Kth move about my port. Then mao your starboard. Focus on enemy cruisers whose starboard side is to us. Take them out as soon as you are in range,” I order and take a more anding posture, with my legs pnted in a wide stand hands csped behind my back—aowledgments follow from both ships. But one captain’s voice trembles. I uand him. They aren’t blind, and they are not stupid either. What is pying out is far from what we had expected, even further from what we wished.

  An e psma strikes my viewport dead ter. My eyes flinch, and my arm shoots up to shield my face—a useless reflex. Part of the energy breaks through the shield and hits the ship itself. The bridge trembles, and I curse. “Shield status?”

  “Seventy-one pert,” an officer answers in a hurry. I don’t bother looking at who responded. No time. No care. The Marcorians are overburdening their C.O.R.E.s, the only logical expnation of how they are able to breach at this distance.

  My eyes find Gerard getting up, cheg himself for any injuries, and motioning for the medics to back off after not finding any. “Marcorian bastards!” He shakes his head after catg me watg him. He says nothing else, but his eyes are full of apprehension or disappoi.

  “A dual input system is useful,” I say, still looking at him. “But let’s keep emotions in check.”

  While our ships’ on systems draw energy directly from the C.O.R.E, the Marcorians have a two-method system. The first one was the same as ours, and, if need be, they switched over to isters, which are fed in by an autoloader and have enough energy for two or three shots before they o be refilled.

  We push on, turning. I watch the radar. The distaween them and us is being shorter and shorter. My hand grips my sword tighter and tighter. I feel a tingling in my throat and fluttering in my stomach. Almost there, I tell myself. Just a little more…

  I should feel worry. If not for the men and women that I’m sending to their deaths, then at least for the ships, and for the number of them we are about to lose. cve have my head for this. Instead, I specute on Marcorian’s move. Their tactic is not something I would have done, no. I’d hide part of my fleet oher side of the p, and would let the enemy guess from which side it would emerge. A smirk spreads ay lips - perhaps Rhu’Kra is of the same mind as well.

  We are now pushing past where our previous e took pce. Debris from destroyed fighters is boung off our shields. So do the dead. The dead who no longer evoke the same emotions from me as they did before, when I first saerson die. When I was eighteen, fighting against pirates, or rather butchering them. There. Now there’s worry.

  “Our ons are now in range,” Gerard hollers, and I blink myself back to the moment at hand.

  “Open fire!” I and and lift my head. “All ships, open fire!”

  Our blue psma shots fly at the Marcorians, and their e psma flies at us. Theirs is narrower. More precise. More effit. But it doesn’t pack as much of a punch as ours, which our enemies know all too well. We hit Marcorians. Barely scratg their shields but hitting them - good news, as they ot fire at us without being punished as well. The lousy being is that this is Marcorian’s ideal range. Our maximum.

  Cheers of the crew echo in my ears, f me to grin momentarily before logic sets in again. Little did they need for joy. I wonder if they even uand that we are now stu this battle to the bitter end. If we ot destroy all starboard-fag vessels, they will chase us and fire at ines - all their other ships will take time to either turn o around the p. But the crew doesn’t think about that. No. They are happy to hit back. The explosioe them. They delight and will tiil the fmes burhey scorch me now.

  HBC Ptigith is now making its ast my viewport, soaking in some of the ining shots. But its mile height isn’t enough to fully cover Caedes from that distance, and the readings of our shield iy trickled down. I walk over to the holos with the shield readings - Sixty-four pert. And as the ship shakes, the reading drops - Sixty-one pert.

  I look at my watch, running a hand over my bald head. For the fifty-five seds, our ships will be at their most vulnerable, if everything ght. Fshes from the p catch my eye. Too many to t, and ing in hot.

  “Focus on the furthest cruisers first,” I instruct my fleet. The cruisers closest to us, we always focus down a bit ter. Marcorians are in motion, moving towards us. Others are turning their ships around.

  “Once we are outside the pary anti-air, turn the fleet towards the port side,” I tell Gerard. “We will circle around the p, and with any luck, will go for round two.”

  The first volley of fire is now reag us from the p. “Brapact!” I order, and my fingers eat into the metal. The bridge shakes, red lights fsh. A breach.

  “Fourth deck is losing oxygen.”

  “Seal off the bay,” I say. Good thing hters are not here. “If hters survive, let them know that the fourth deck is gone for now,” I tell Gerard, and he nods.

  The red light tinues fshing, arms bring off, but I suppress them the best I . The sed wave of fire is on the way.

  “My shields are at fifteen pert.” Nothe Gabar, captain of HBC Huwlen, appears on the holo projector. “Permission to withdraw to the back-line.”

  “Proceed.” I rub my and start pag the captain’s bridge. “Order HBlit, Munzioth, and Xilini to move ahead - full throttle.”

  “Grand General, are you sure that’s a good idea?” Gabar presses his lips into a fine line, his eyes narrowing. “Two of those ships are well past their prime. Taking so-”

  “I believe I’ve made myself clear, Captain,” I interject. “Their shields are intact; yours are not. Proceed.”

  He nods. “Uood.”

  The sed salvo strikes, sparing Caedes this time. My crew explodes with appuse as the first of the Marcorian cruisers erupts in a momentary fire. It dies off quickly, as did the crew, I imagine. Fire or open space make sure of that.

  “We’ve been hit!”

  My eyes dart to the radar.

  “I repeat—we’ve had a brea the shields, we’ve been hit!” Nothe Gabar’s voiaps me back to reality.

  He salutes me in his wrinkle-free uniform, “It leasure, sir.”

  I catch a fshing light from the er of my eye. “The honor is mi-” I jerk as the fsh blinds me. Stati the holos. Debris of the cruiser flying every which way. My throat tightens up, and I’m left standing with my mouth open.

  “Shit. Shit. Shit!” I strike the holoprojector, as orets hit by the rgest k of what used to be HBC Huwlen. Their captain’s bridge is smashed to pieces, and pods with survivors eje the following seds. No helping them now.

  My eyes dart from ohing to the , and I su the air, my chest rising with eahale. “Focus on their fgship!” I yell out and loosen the color of my uniform, my eyes burning with rage. I should have ordered him to pull out earlier - I berate myself while clearing my throat.

  “Three thousand forty,” a voice whispers in my ear. That is the number of dead from the cruiser alone. I suppress that knowledge.

  Regaining my posture, my gaze falls on the Marcorian Defensive Pary Ptform. “Don’t let up. Their DPP must be on the brink,” I demand of my men. “Horus!” I call the Vice Admiral, “They are yours.”

  He says nothing, but smirks before diseg.

  The pain eases as my better sense fight through to the front of my cortex. The burn in my arms eases as I rex my hands, but a lump in my throat prohibits me from saying anything else. Fourth volley is now on approach, ing for us. Caedes shakes violently. Shields are now at ten pert. Another destroyer disappears from the radar - its crew from the living.

  No time frief, I tell myself and regained my posure. “There will be time to mourn,” I tell the crew. “But if we die, there will be no oo do the m. Press on!”

  Marcorian DPP ruptures. The fmes blind me for a moment, even from that distance.

  “Exeg turn due port!” my helmsmen announces, and I exhale.

  Rexed too early - another of our cruisers is gone. Marcorian cruisers aroyers pig off the weakest links. We do the same. But I ’t help but wonder where the rest of their fleet is. They should have four times the amount of ships I’m seeing. Perhaps going around the p is not such a great idea. This still very much be an ambush. Another few rounds of psma nd on my ship. “Push us out of their cruiser’s range,” I tell the helmsman. “Tell the destroyers to cover us, and release whatever fighters we have left. Have fighters suicide if they have to, but Caedes does not fall today!”

  I hate myself for that and. But a death of one or the death of the whole battleship with its crew. The lesser evil. But still evil. We fire o volley. I watch. We hit. Their fgship loses parts of its bow. At least it won’t charge after us now, but its bridge is still intact.

  The ship shakes. I’m thrown to the floor and I curse, “Where is our s?” A medic rushes towards me. I motion for my helmet, and soon the rest on the bridge wears ooo. The lights go out, deafening arms bre, and red lights illuminate everything, but barely. “Shut those arms off. No one leaves for the pods!” I yell out a and.

  “One of ines is out, and some reys are gohat seems to be the extent of the damage, and we are looking for ways to redirect power back to the bridge,” an officer informs over the s, his voice even, and almost nont. A testament to our training, I suppose.

  “hters are inbound,” Gerard informs me. “They paralyzed those two cruisers.”

  “Grand General, sir.” My radar operator, Selmor Umaz, runs up to me, his blonde hair ging to his head, fused by sweat. “Ripples to our starboard.”

  Not now… I let out a sigh and run to the radar. Thoughts race through my mind, and my heart seems to have reached my throat.

  “Any sign of if it’s enemy or friendly?” I ask.

  Umaz shakes his head.

  “Did Fraxon or anyone else tact us?” I holler at Nesi.

  “No, sir.” Nesi runs up and stands at attention. His eyes dart to the unication array and bae.

  “All we have are these ripples.” Umaz csps his hands behind himself. “Whoever it is, I estimate they will emerge in five.”

  “Just in time for our round two,” I whisper, and dismiss both.

  If an enemy is ining, I have to run. We’re already overextended, and most fleets’ shields are low. Mine are now googether. There is good news, no enemy ships on the back side of the p, just anti-air guns, which are trying to hit us, but we are just barely far enough away. I look at the radar - no pursuit from the Marcorians.

  There could still be o expnation for the ripples. An expnation I’d prefer. Maybe Poltr has decided to show up after all. But these are just wishes, and they are wishes of a dead man, it would seem. I almost feel my heart jumping out, my throat dry, and a throbbing headache ing on. If Marcorians won’t kill me, a heart attack will.

  I motion ferard. “If Marcorians show up in numbers, tell the fleet to surrender,” I whisper to him without gifting him a gnce. “And send a unication to cve, telling them it’s over as well.” I feel him nod, swallowing down his emotions.

  An arm beeps thrice, and red lights die off, regur lights ing balihe crew’s spirit es back to life as well, as they redouble their efforts to calcute and recalcute. Sing the surrounding areas the best they could.

  Walking back to the radar, I avoided all eye tact, sweat running down the bay neck. I ’t shake the feeling that I’m about to walk into history as a fool who decided in his lunacy to challenge a greater force - and failed. Grahat I have decided nothing. Historians would care little.

  With hands behind my back, I watch for what felt like hours with anticipation. My finger drums against my hand. Seds tick. I feel the tig of the watch with my palm. Despite that, it feels like time is dragging. A few minutes pass, we are cirg back around the p, my viewport now looking directly where the radar says ripples are. The moment of truth. I nod at Gerard, as he takes the unicator into his hand, reading to surrender just in case.

  A slight fre, and boxlike metal behemoths emerge with their dull bd red color scheme. A sigil of a lion’s head oorso of all ships. I sigh in relief, and air rushed to fill my lungs. Fraxon has arrived.

  Smile spreads ay lips, and I pat Umaz on the back. The crew is gratutions to one another. Cheering and some are appuding, and Nesi closes his eyes for a silent prayer.

  “Looks like we live today!” Gerard stands o me, his hands trembling, and so does his voice. “I’ll be ho. I was worried there for a sed.”

  “Monitor our allies…” I stop mid-sentence as more and more ships emerge. My eyes widen and my face pales. My better senses scream that there is no way they possess that many. Not after the st enter with the Marcorians ten years ago and then their civil war… A quick thought shoots through my brain regarding their quality, but I sweep it aside. Now is not the time for uimation. The crew’s excitement dies off, and soon there’s deathly silence.

  Seven…hirteen. The sixteenth was the st… not ting the destroyers.

  The only thing I don’t know is if Fraxonnians threw all the apples into the same basket. That would be a bold move. Dumb, sure, but bold.

  I left a few ships around Hes in case the Marcorians decide on a terattack. I ’t imagine our ally doing the same thing with so many of their ships present here. If they are, their fleet would be greater than ours, I realize, and take a step back. The bridge is silent. Only the shaking of the ship after a hit brings people back to life. Nesi is stealing gnces my way, but I ignore him. I look ferard. He is as pale as I.

  The question, “Where could they get that many resources... and go unnoticed?”, is mirrored on his face.

  I make a mental o interrogate our spy work.

  “How did we miss this build up?” Gerard whispers, his voice fluttering, but his eyes unwavering. His hand is gripping his sword, fingers crushing the hilt.

  “They are unleashing missiles…” Umaz says before I respond, and I make my way to him. Gerard at my heels.

  “Missiles?” I question as I s the radar and turn to the viewport. But they are too far away, and I ’t see anything but their silhouettes. Eyes dart back to the radar. The dots are flying fast. Too fast.

  “No!” I yell, and my eyes widen as the cold sensation runs down my spine. Realization hit. Time stops. Crew is looking at me, and slowly they too turn their head to the viewport.

  I hold my breath and wat awe as the first missile reaches the DPP.

  Nuclear explosion.

  Then another.

  And another.

  Two missiles annihite the Marcorian fgship. A couple of destroyers follow suit soon after.

  A dozen more missiles head for the p’s surface.

  People below…These tactics are inhumane, I think to myself, uo utter these words aloud. What have we done?

  “Grand General?”

  I turn to find Nesi standing by.

  “Hail Poltr,” I order and run to the Holo projector, activating the PhantomShield. “He’s gone insane for sure…” I tell Gerard, and he grunts an agreement.

  The few moments are worse than hell. I ’t think. ’t e up with an a pn. The PhantomShield is now activated. I hit the holo projector and wih pain. Gerard forces himself to exhale. I motion for him to leave. He’s relut, but obeys without question, for which I’m thankful. My chest is tightening. I try to wet my lips, but my mouth is too dry.

  All I think of is, what do we do ? I grab the rim of the hol to calm my shivering. No one had used these tactics sihe Orphan’s Strife almost four hundred years ago. We swore. After Earth became gss, all nations vowed to avoid using nuclear ons.

  “Grand General Varick…” Poltr appears on my s. His dark skin stands out in trast to the white background of his surroundings. Tastefully pced around him are expansive furniture and portraits of him and reat heroes of previous ages. I couldn’t help but wonder if Poltr thought he was on a cruise ship. He could not be serious. I told myself, but then ahought shot through my mind: How did he win a civil war? Not nukes; otherwise, I would have heard of that.

  “You bastard!” I yell at him, uo keep my posure. “This is not what we agreed upon! Civilians-”

  “That hardly qualifies as a ‘thank you.’” Poltr chuckles and straightens himself out, and looks down on me like a child. His thin ponytail of grey hair dangling at his waist.

  “You are delusional,” I mutter through my teeth. “What trickery is this? Where were you? Where are the rest of the Marcorias?”

  I ighe blinking light and my unication officer. Whatever the case, now is not the time.

  “I assumed you decimated them,” Poltr says a pyful smile on his lips, but a momentary fusion still flies across his face. “And don’t worry, nukes are only to soften them up. I’m merely testing them, really.” He offers me a smile, revealing a row of white teeth.

  “There’s a reason we don’t use them,” I ter, trying to reason with a pin madman. “Where did you get them, anyway?”

  “Our aors didn’t use them and look where that got them. Three hundred years io the Marcorians, and ting.” Poltr’s face grimaces as he spits at the floor. “I will use any tactiecessary to deliver my people from these fanatics. As our aors used them to deliver us from Earth’s rule. Tell me Varick, do you hate Herald, son of Jetu, a Hewshii, who was the mastermind behind the gssing of Earth? Or Kiltur, the one who engineered all the warheads? Or even Marcoria herself, the leader of the Five Orphans? Do you bme them for orchestrating all that death?”

  “That was different.”

  “Different how, Grand General?” Poltr leans in, and my heart skips a beat.

  Glimpsing movement out of the er of my eye, I return my gaze to the viewport. Hundreds of transports are now making their way to the p. Marcorians try to shoot some down but, for the most part, are stuck fighting Fraxonnian cruisers.

  “Cease your hostiles, Poltr,” I demand, still not looking at him. “Marcoriaill may five your people for this transgression.”

  “That’s not why I came here.” He pauses. “However, if you ot stomach this, you may return to the hole from which you came. Your job here is done. My people came to take htful freedom. And I will make sure that the freedom we gain today will st forever.”

  “History will judge you,” I state, and disect.

  “Draw the fleet away from the flict,” I tell my helmsman as I head towards my seat.

  My head drops into my hand as I sit dowreat to Hewshia? I open my eyes and allow my hand to drop.

  “What now?” Gerard whispers.

  I ignore him, but his question lingers - eating at me. Gerard still stands. I motion for him to go, shaking my head. I o think. Duty pels me to tinue. We came to get our freedom, and no one said that I would like the ould win it. But this was not a war for freedom anymore, not in any sense I justify, and I hope the cve will see the same.

  “What am I to do?” I whisper to myself, and take a deep breath. Gerard ands the crew to do their job and steals a gnce my way. I nod in appreciation.

  I gather my thoughts. I o salvage the situatioreating now would only waste time and nothing more. Our jump was still not ready, and once we jump back, we would have to wait and waste even more time. And the things I want to do to Fraxonnians right now should not be hindered by time.

  Go against orders - help the Marcorians? My sce whispers in my ear. If only war was this simple. If only doing what’s right won wars, I’d bet atrocities wouldn’t happen.

  I sat up straight. To what end will I help them? ging sides without cve’s approval... I bite my lip. I want to yell. To break something. But only allow myself to ch my fists. Nails dig deep into the flesh of my palms.

  “Let me know if there’s any ge in the posture of their fleets. I’ll be in my quarters,” I order Umaz.

  “I ime to think,” I tell Gerard as I ast him.

  I grab my head with both arms as I sit down on my bed. So much death. More than we were promised. This will be a quick war, they told me. Now, I’m part ing genocide in the full meaning of the word.

  I wish politis fought their own wars.

  Getting up, I head to the feren. I o speak to the cve, and I o talk soon. However, interception is possible, so I won’t use the holo. They must see me. They must know the cost of their shhtedness. And if they don’t n Poltr and Fraxon, I will resign, honor or not.

  My holo call is answered, and I lift my tired eyes up, “Marwen, I need a favor.”