Alan took a deep breath, staring at the holographic screen in front of him where the message blinked, awaiting confirmation for transmission. He knew that every word had been carefully weighed, designed to provoke an immediate reaction from the Gulls.

  He nodded toward the communications officer.

  “Send it.”

  The transmitter activated, and the message was relayed at full power, broadcast in a loop through the priority communication channels reserved for the Gulls.

  Urgent message from Admiral Alan of Sol to the Gull masters:

  “Arwiens. Imminent disintegration. New Offensive Urgent. Decisive. Request Priority Access to Arsenals. General Urgent Rearmament. Request Access to Gull Arsenal.”

  A?ssatou crossed her arms, watching the transmission with a worried expression.

  “It’s going through.” she announced after a few seconds.

  Alan exhaled slowly.

  “Now we’ll see if our masters react as expected…”

  Jennel raised an eyebrow.

  “And if they refuse?”

  Alan turned toward her, his eyes hard with certainty.

  “They can’t.”

  Silence stretched. The loop kept running, bombarding the Gulls with a message they couldn’t ignore.

  Long minutes passed.

  The response echoed in the command station:

  “Granted.”

  Alan immediately instructed the AI to distribute the squadrons and groups across different arsenals, prioritizing efficiency in rearmament.

  “Priority to effectiveness. No wasted time.”

  He added that his Xi-Terran squadron was to be directed to the Grand Gull Arsenal.

  A?ssatou frowned.

  “Admiral, our group is far from running dry. We saved our antimatter torpedoes, favoring fragmentation missiles on your order. We still have enough to fight.”

  Alan nodded without answering immediately. He knew exactly what he was doing.

  The hyper-quantum transfer ended, and the ships emerged into normal space, close to the Gull complex. Alan observed the scene on the tactical screen, then issued another instruction:

  “AI, clear the Tool shuttle bays. I want immediate and unobstructed access to the Arsenal.”

  The Terran ships, followed by the Xi units, glided silently between the immense Gull structures, their metallic hulls maneuvering with perfect fluidity.

  They passed by their Hall, immense and vitrified, before approaching their true destination.

  The Nanite Control Hyper-Emitter came into view. A massive circular structure, fitted with a parabolic dish aimed at infinity, emitting a faint glow along its dark edges.

  Jennel froze.

  Alan remained impassive and let the dice roll.

  He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then commanded in a cold, unwavering voice:

  “Entire squadron, AI to Diagnostic Mode immediately.”

  The tactical screen adjusted instantly, stripping away all unnecessary information. Only essential indicators remained: weapon status, firing trajectories. And the AI was no longer in control of the weapons.

  A shiver of adrenaline ran through Alan. Every second counted.

  Jennel felt her breath shorten. She knew Alan, she knew what he was planning, but this time, it was different. This was the decisive moment.

  “Immediate opening of torpedo bays, emergency loading. Target: Hyper-Emitter.”

  A wave of red icons flashed onto the interface. Bay doors opening. Launch tubes aligning. Target acquisition in progress.

  10 seconds.

  A?ssatou checked her readings with surgical precision. She knew every order mattered. There was no room for error.

  Every operator knew what Alan represented: an anomaly, a strategist, a leader whose instincts surpassed even the Gull thinking-machines. And they trusted him. Blindly.

  That trust extended even to the Xi, despite their cultural differences. They had seen in him a leader capable of transcending factions, and in this critical moment, they obeyed with the same conviction as the Terrans.

  A?ssatou caught a glimpse of Jennel, tense, her eyes fixed on the screen. She, too, understood the stakes. But there was something else. A shiver of certainty. They were standing on the threshold of the impossible.

  The radio silence was deafening. Each ship methodically aligned its weapon systems.

  “All guns on target.”

  Firing pointers converged on the massive structure.

  “Fire at will!”

  Alan began counting in his mind. They had 37 seconds before the emitter activated. 37 seconds of life.

  But when would the Gulls react?

  A moment later, a hurricane of fire was unleashed.

  The first antimatter torpedoes struck the defensive shield simultaneously, generating massive shockwaves that rippled like plasma waves through the void.

  20 seconds.

  A?ssatou clenched her fists. She knew that if the emitter held, everything would be over. She forced herself to breathe slowly, controlling her anxiety.

  The energy cannons joined the onslaught, releasing streams of superheated particles that tore through the energy barrier.

  The shield flickered, wavered under the relentless assault, momentary gaps appearing with each impact before sealing shut in a desperate struggle against the inevitable.

  Then, the first crack of light split the protective field.

  30 seconds.

  A beam of energy shattered the shield, followed by another. Gaping fissures opened.

  Jennel’s heartbeat surged. It was working. A thought flickered through her mind: was this really the end?

  Then, the antimatter torpedoes rushed into the gaps, slamming directly into the parabolic dish, triggering a cascade of cataclysmic explosions.

  A harsh, grating noise crackled across the radio frequencies. A sign that the Gulls’ systems were desperately trying to compensate for their defense’s collapse.

  Then, suddenly, the shield went dark.

  40 seconds.

  Alan barely had time to catch one last surge of static energy rippling across the structure, like a dying beast’s final convulsion.

  The lances of energy from the cruisers sliced into the emitter, carving deep scars into its framework.

  The last torpedoes rushed into the breach.

  A suspended moment.

  Then…

  The blinding explosion.

  Jennel gasped. The sight left her speechless.

  A column of pure light erupted, consuming the base of the dish in a storm of blue flames.

  The entire structure vibrated before collapsing inward, spewing molten debris into space, illuminating the darkness with an apocalyptic spectacle.

  Then, in one terrifying flash, the final blast engulfed the tactical screen.

  The Hyper-Emitter no longer existed.

  A heavy silence fell over the bridge.

  Alan blinked. It was over. He felt the pressure on his chest ease, but his mind kept spinning. Had he truly achieved the impossible?

  A?ssatou inhaled deeply, as if realizing only now that she had been holding her breath. Then a smile, brief, almost disbelieving, formed on her lips.

  Jennel felt something shift within her. She looked at Alan, who was still staring at the screen, jaw clenched. She saw realization dawn in his eyes.

  Alan slowly lifted his head. He swept his gaze over his crew, his comrades-in-arms. Their faces were frozen in disbelief and awe. They were free.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  Jennel whispered, her eyes shining: “It’s over…”

  A?ssatou placed a trembling hand on the console and let out a soft laugh. A nervous, relieved laugh. “We did it.”

  Alan didn’t smile yet. He kept watching the screens. If the Gulls retaliated… But nothing. Nothing.

  Everything had changed.

  But it wasn’t over.

  Alan inhaled deeply and issued an ice-cold command:

  “From Admiral Alan of Sol to the fleet. We are free to finish this.”

  A heavy silence fell over the command deck. Every operator, every officer understood what it meant. They were free, yes, but what would they do with that freedom?

  Freedom ripped from the Gulls at gunpoint, fragile until their enemies were eradicated.

  Alan continued, relentless:

  “Xi forces, attack the Gull Special Zone. Total destruction ordered. Terran forces, annihilate the Gull Arsenal.”

  The tactical screens flared red. Dozens of priority targets appeared, Xi forces already reorganizing to rush toward their new objectives.

  Alan fixed his gaze on the main hologram. He spotted a chaotic regrouping of Gull ships along with loyalist units, mercenaries free from nanite control who had chosen submission. A disparate collection of races and mismatched vessels, but their objective was clear: protect their Gull masters.

  Jennel watched the information scrolling on her own screen, her expression tense.

  "The loyalists will fight to the end."

  Alan slowly nodded.

  "So will we."

  A new signal flashed on the screen, near the closest arsenal. The Zirkis.

  The first to have completed their rearmament, the war beasts were ready.

  Alan straightened and sent his message.

  "Admiral Alan of Sol to Commander Ak-Or of the Zirkis. Hyper-Emitter destroyed. Zirkis free to attack Gull and loyalist enemies regrouping near the Energy Sector."

  A few seconds passed before the response came.

  "From Commander Ak-Or to Grand Admiral Alan… Day of Glory."

  The screen lit up with a series of confirmations. The Zirkis were already on the move.

  Alan took a deep breath.

  "Grand Admiral..."

  It was more than a title. It was a vow. A new weight on his shoulders. A reckless hope for those who had followed him this far.

  Jennel caught the glint in his eyes. She smiled. Just briefly.

  They were no longer slaves.

  Alan studied the tactical screen with icy intensity. The Zirkis were already charging their enemies, uncoordinated, brutal, relentless, unstoppable. Their warrior fury had no leash anymore.

  But that wasn’t enough.

  Alan knew chaos was their ally... for now. But if they wanted to completely overthrow the Gulls' rule, all former mercenaries had to understand what they had just won.

  "Bring the AIs back online," he ordered sharply.

  The artificial intelligences rebooted, immediately adapting to the new conditions. Systems realigned, calculating trajectories, cross-referencing data, reevaluating the situation.

  "Search for the transmission grid to contact all mercenary ships."

  Seconds passed. The AI compiled the transmission relays, identifying active nodes. Then, on the main screen, a holographic grid appeared: a network of re-transmitters and amplifiers spread throughout the Gull space.

  Silence fell over the bridge.

  Jennel held her breath. This was the moment.

  Alan placed his hands on the console and broadcasted his message at full power:

  "Message from Admiral Alan of Sol to all mercenary vessels.

  Hyper-Emitter destroyed by my squadron.

  No more threat from the Gulls.

  I call on all combat groups, formerly mercenaries, now free, to join me in the ex-Gull central zone and destroy every Gull or loyalist ship in range."

  He released the interface. The echo of his order spread through the entire fleet’s network.

  Jennel watched the hologram, tracking the real-time evolution of the situation.

  Minutes passed.

  The hesitant units, the scattered groups, the fractured flotillas reeling from the Gulls’ fall…

  They began to move.

  A?ssatou murmured, eyes locked on the screen:

  "It’s starting."

  Alan nodded.

  The battle raged for hours.

  Torrents of fire illuminated the void with shifting shadows and incandescent flashes, marking the methodical destruction of the Gulls' heart of power.

  The Terran squadron, after relentless salvos of torpedoes, had exhausted its stock of heavy weapons. They had only a handful of fragmentation missiles left (dangerous to use in close combat) and their energy cannons, which ultimately carried most of the burden. Each shot was calculated with merciless precision, each target obliterated in a silent explosion that tore through the metallic heavens of the Gull complex.

  The Gull Arsenal, a monster of steel stripped of its shields, was dismantled piece by piece under the assault of fifty Terran ships. Strike units divided the destruction zones, ensuring no structure remained intact. The Gull ships still present were mostly undergoing maintenance or were crewless, reduced to empty shells. Those unlucky enough to house occupants were erased without mercy.

  The Xi forces' assault was clean and surgical. There was no resistance.

  Living quarters, Gull-exclusive installations, secondary command centers, everything was annihilated with clinical efficiency. Their once-impenetrable technological complexes exploded one by one in spectacular detonations.

  Then came the Machines of Thought, the Gull Thinkers.

  Cold, infallible minds.

  One by one, they were methodically targeted, their units destroyed, their thinking systems burned to the core.

  The intelligence that had dictated the fate of mercenaries for decades was no longer a threat.

  Alan watched the carnage from the command bridge. He let a few seconds pass before issuing his final order:

  "Commander Xi Mano, spare the central structure. But destroy everything else. Nothing must escape."

  The Xi executed the order without hesitation. They neutralized the corridors, severed the communication relays, disabled the power sources. The structure was now an island of metal drifting in empty space.

  Meanwhile, the enraged Zirkis hunted the remaining Gulls through the shattered complex. Their battle frenzy knew no limits.

  The last survivors were tracked down, flushed out, executed without a shred of mercy.

  The reign of the Gulls had ended.

  Admiral Arin Tar scrutinized Colonel Ran Dal with a sharp gaze, barely concealing her frustration.

  "We played your little game." Her voice was laced with cold disapproval.

  "Pulling back our first lines, pretending to flee. A maneuver that was neither honorable nor, let’s be honest, particularly wise."

  Ran Dal crossed her arms and met her gaze without flinching.

  She wouldn’t respond immediately. She knew Arin Tar needed to vent before she would listen.

  The Admiral continued with a touch of cynicism:

  "On the other hand, it didn’t change much about the prevailing disorganization. Our units remain scattered, our communications chaotic, and yet..." She paused, as if hesitating to admit the obvious.

  "Some forces have been relieved and reorganized."

  She locked eyes with the Colonel. "And now?"

  Ran Dal shrugged slightly. "We wait."

  The Admiral raised an eyebrow, a spark of anger flashing through her gaze.

  "Wait for what? Authorization from your ghost Admiral?"

  "The situation on the front is strange," Ran Dal replied calmly. "We are detecting mostly isolated groups, and they also seem to be retreating."

  Arin Tar straightened, hands clasped behind her back.

  "Before I'm relieved for incompetence, I’d like things to be clear."

  Ran Dal was about to respond when a signal rang out in the command room. A priority call.

  "Holographic communication from Commander Xi Mano for Admiral Arin Tar," announced the communications officer.

  Arin Tar swiftly turned to Ran Dal, who maintained her impassive expression.

  "Xi Mano?" the Admiral repeated, her tone questioning.

  "Commander of the Xi mercenary forces," Ran Dal clarified.

  Arin Tar tensed slightly. The Xi didn’t send meaningless messages. Something important was unfolding.

  Admiral Arin Tar pressed her lips together, her patience wearing thin.

  "Very well. Display the communication."

  A moment later, Xi Mano’s hologram materialized at the center of the command room. Her dignified posture and serene expression contrasted with the surrounding tension. Her graceful yet somewhat alien silhouette appeared almost unreal under the bluish glow of the projection.

  Xi Mano spoke, and the automatic translator activated:

  "Admiral Arin Tar, I greet you."

  Arin Tar crossed her arms, wary. The Xi always had that enigmatic air: too polite to be sincere.

  "Commander Xi Mano. To what do we owe this communication?"

  The Xi’s image remained impassive. Her voice was calm but carried an underlying weight.

  "To recent events and what they imply."

  A shiver of irritation ran through Arin Tar. She was tired of riddles.

  "Be clear, Commander."

  Xi Mano inclined her head slightly before answering.

  "Admiral Alan de Sol has destroyed the Gull Hyper-Emitter."

  Silence fell like a guillotine.

  Arin Tar felt her stomach tighten. She slowly turned her head toward Ran Dal, who kept her gaze fixed on the hologram, her expression unreadable.

  "Is this... confirmed?" she finally asked.

  "Beyond any doubt," Xi Mano replied.

  Arin Tar took a deep breath. This was an earthquake.

  The Gulls had never lost control. Never. And now… they were vulnerable.

  She straightened, her gaze hardening. "What do you expect from me, Commander?"

  Xi Mano did not smile, but a flicker passed through her eyes.

  "A choice."

  Arin Tar stared at the hologram, her mind racing. The implications were staggering. The Gulls had never truly lost. But today, they were broken.

  Ran Dal stood silently beside her. She knew the Admiral had to weigh her response, that any hasty words could seal the fate of Arw. And perhaps that of the known universe.

  A choice.

  Xi Mano’s words echoed in her mind like an endless refrain. An invitation. A threat. An opportunity.

  Arin Tar tried to meet the Commander’s gaze.

  "What exactly are you proposing?"

  "The end of this war."

  Silence. The officers in the command room held their breath.

  Arin Tar inhaled deeply. Who were they fighting now?

  Xi Mano waited, and Ran Dal watched Arin Tar with a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

  "We have lost far too much, Commander," Arin Tar finally replied, her voice rough.

  "We have fought for decades. The dead demand justice."

  Xi Mano did not flinch.

  "Justice is not vengeance."

  Arin Tar tensed.

  Xi Mano inclined her head slightly.

  "And if the only possible victory was peace?"

  Ran Dal’s lips parted slightly, surprised by the wording. Arin Tar, however, remained motionless.

  A long silence stretched between them.

  Then, very slowly, Arin Tar declared in a cold voice:

  "I’m listening."

  "Then we can begin."

  JENNEL

  I’ve almost never doubted. Except maybe two or three times.

  Why am I writing this? I was stressed out of my mind most of the time.

  But I think I handled the Arwienne well. In truth, I was just sincere and lucky enough to meet a woman who was open-minded and intuitive.

  Of course, she’s a woman. Just a little different. Maybe a lot, I don’t know. But in this fight, we are sisters.