Varos-Thek's gaze was locked onto the shifting battlefield of the 3D holographic map, the moon’s orbit displayed in intricate layers of real-time data.

  Sector after sector flickered with warning symbols, zones collapsing into infighting, rogue clones disobeying orders, and now, entire ships pulling back from key offensives, leaving their positions exposed to BCU incursions.

  His jaw tightened. This was a disaster. His attempts to maintain order had failed, and the consequences were unravelling across the battlefield.

  Instead of reinforcing the front lines, ships were retreating, their captains abandoning the broader strategy to fortify their holdings.

  The enemy’s incursions were spreading, pressure mounting along both the western and eastern fronts. The fragile equilibrium that had held this campaign together was crumbling.

  A sharp voice cut through his focus.

  “Captain! Captain!”

  He turned his attention to one of the communication officers. The clone’s posture was rigid, urgency clear in his tone.

  “Urgent call from Sorith-Ven.”

  Varos-Thek remained silent for a few seconds, then gave a curt nod. His sphere’s turned opaque his privacy shielding activated, isolating him from the command deck as the encrypted connection linked through multiple security layers.

  When the call stabilized, Sorith-Ven’s face appeared on the display and his fury was immediate.

  “Do you have any idea how far you've set us back?” Sorith-Ven’s voice was sharp, his composure cracking beneath restrained rage. “Cycles of progress gone. You’ve let the enemy gain ground where they should have bled!”

  Varos-Thek kept his voice level. “I understand the setbacks, but I believe—”

  “You believe nothing!” Sorith-Ven snapped. “This was meant to be controlled. We were supposed to lose a few vital sectors to justify buying and reclaiming them at a profit. Now the entire campaign is spiralling!”

  Varos-Thek exhaled sharply. “The clones' control chips—”

  “Yes, yes, excuses! We knew the chips had potential flaws. Your job was to account for them! Investors are demanding answers. The current is shifting against us, and the entire operation has lost credibility!”

  “Sorith, give me time. My team is working to—”

  “Time?” Sorith-Ven’s voice dropped, ice creeping into his tone. “You speak of order while standing atop the wreckage of your failures. This is beyond salvage.”

  He leaned forward, his glare sharp. “The Thek clans influence in the Consortium is finished. Your shares, your clan’s holdings they’ve been absorbed by the rest of us to pay Aegirarch he will be reinstated soon."

  Varos-Thek stiffened. “Wait. We can still—”

  The call cut.

  Silence swallowed him.

  For long moments, he simply floated in his sphere of water, staring at the now-dark display. Gone his authority, his standing, his control wiped away in a single conversation.

  Then, alarms blared.

  His privacy screen deactivated, and he snapped to attention. “Report!” His voice was sharp, masking the churn of emotions beneath.

  A clone officer immediately pulled up a holo map. “Multiple confirmed projectile launches from the Southern Hemisphere—over three thousand detected and rising!”

  Another voice cut in. “BCU fleet detected! One hundred and seven ships advancing westward, with one hundred and thirty-four pushing east!”

  Varos-Thek didn’t hesitate. “Order the fleet to tighten formation along the missile approach. I want a defensive network set up immediately!"

  A pause. The clone hesitated. “Multiple captains are refusing to comply, Captain.”

  His fingers curled into a fist. “Mark them as traitors. Flag their ships as neutral.”

  The clone nodded. “Acknowledged.”

  Varos-Thek’s mind raced. “How many ships are moving into defensive positions?”

  “Thirty-four attack ships over the Eastern Hemisphere are holding formation. Twenty-seven more are burning at best speed to link up.

  In the Western Hemisphere, twenty ships have formed a defensive network, with fifteen en route to reinforce.”

  He exhaled. Not enough. “Have the Northern reserves ready to move at a moment’s notice.”

  A new alert flared across the screen.

  “Captain, we have a problem.” The clone’s voice held an edge of unease. “The missiles—they’re a new variant. Their velocity doesn’t match any known models.”

  A chill ran through Varos-Thek’s spine.

  “Inform the fleet to prepare for anything.”

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  ———

  Returning here always felt peaceful, even as the etheric storm roared around me, its unseen currents shifting in unpredictable patterns. But today, something was different. The storm pressed in, its barriers tightening around me not an impenetrable wall, but something shifting, adapting, trying to hold me in place.

  But I had not come to linger in reflection. I had come to end this campaign.

  The last battle had nearly pushed me beyond my limits. This time, there would be no retreat, no stalemate. The moon would be mine, and my enemy would fall.

  Across the void, four thousand and one Star lance missiles adjusted their trajectories, splitting into two clusters two thousand and one streaking east, the other two thousand heading west.

  I activated their secondary drives, forcing them to their limits. Their engines burned hot against the cold darkness, racing ahead, while my ships surged forward to keep pace. I held my breath for several minutes and finally sighed, the new drives held.

  The missile would follow a four-phase attack pattern when the breached there defensive network.

  The first and second waves followed the standard assault pattern—plasma to weaken and warp their armour, followed by acid to strip away hull plating and lay their interiors bare.

  The third wave carried something new—boarding teams sealed within gel pods, deploying assault raiders and acid spitters primed to carve through whatever remained.

  The final wave held the last resort—nuclear ordnance. A kill shot, unleashed only if there was no other way to secure my objectives.

  I wanted their ships.

  I wanted their crew.

  I wanted the Grithan captains intact. Their memories were mine to extract.

  My mind expanded, processing every angle of the battle in real-time. The countdown to impact ticked away in my consciousness, minute by minute, second by second.

  The first defensive measure was activated.

  A wave of shrapnel detonations erupted ahead, an expanding cloud of razor-sharp debris stretching across the battlefield. Each fragment spun at lethal velocities.

  Time stretched.

  My missiles surged forward, adjusting in real time. The formations split, twisting through gaps in the spreading cloud, threading between the spiralling metal storm.

  Then came the lasers.

  Precision fire beams lanced through the darkness, striking down or damaging missiles before they could adjust course.

  Every second, more were cut from the swarm, each loss a disruption to the delicate balance I had set.

  This battle had become a game of deception. Faints, counter-moves, and sacrifices. I adjusted speeds, altered trajectories, and forced them to overcommit to false patterns. The shrapnel cloud continued to expand, but I had already accounted for its drift, pushing my forces past its deadliest zones.

  But something was wrong.

  The etheric storm always present, now pressed against me. The very fabric of the realm around me felt like shifting currents, unpredictable yet purposeful as if something unseen was trying to contain me.

  The missiles pushed through, weaving between the shrapnel clouds and dodging laser fire. Hundreds fell. Some are shredded by debris, and others are incinerated by precise energy blasts. But thousands pressed on, a relentless storm of death bearing down on the Grithan ships in the first wave of attacks.

  I felt the pressure tighten.

  The etheric storm coiled around me, its shifting barriers growing denser, pressing in from all sides. It wasn’t just random chaos any more.

  It moved with intent, folding in on itself as if trying to grip and crush my presence here. The storm had never acted like this before.

  Something was watching.

  I pushed the thought aside, refocusing on the battle. The second wave of missiles engaged. Acid payloads burst open, spraying corrosive mist across weakened hulls.

  Metal groaned and warped, hull plating dissolving like flesh beneath fire. The outer defences buckled, the once-unbreakable wall of ships now riddled with fractures.

  And yet, I could feel it.

  The unseen weight. The suffocating pressure.

  The etheric storm was folding tighter, swirling like a living thing, warping space itself. Each second, my mind strained harder to keep up.

  My calculations flickered at the edges, inputs slowing, as if my thoughts were being dragged through unseen currents.

  This was more than just a storm.

  Something was reaching for me.