Chapter 1:
The Running Gunfight
Year 2097
Moon XF752 Orbit
RNS Poseidon
Rhom shouted over the rising noise of alerts. “Zodark cruisers splitting! They’re accelerating hard, trying to sweep around our flank. They’re angling for the Australia!”
Lee grimaced. “They’re trying to box us in. Not today. Bring primaries to bear. Target the lead cruiser and fire at will.”
The Poseidon’s 16-inch and 36-inch magrail turrets roared to life, hurling kinetic slugs at blinding speeds. One slug ripped straight through the nearest cruiser, followed by an internal explosion tearing it in half.
“Lucky shot,” Rhom said, no doubt shocked his gun crews had scored such a hit with their first volley.
“My compliments to your crew,” Lee replied, just as surprised as Rhom. Maybe some luck is breaking our way after all…
“Thunder scoring hits on a second cruiser,” Sato said. “Atlantis is shifting to support—firing now!”
The combined barrage from Thunder and Atlantis smashed through another Zodark cruiser’s armor. A fireball replaced it a moment later.
“Two down!” Rhom called.
The celebration was short-lived.
“Oceanus has taken a glancing hit. Plasma strike on her mid-section,” Sato reported.
A thundering ripple across space signaled the Australia’s response. Her twelve massive 36-inch magrail turrets—six per side—opened up, flinging projectiles cracking across the void with devastating force. One round clipped a Zodark battleship’s prow—its forward plating peeled back, spewing debris and flashing with arcs of electricity.
“They’re adjusting formation. Zodark battleship turning to bring broadsides,” Rhom said.
“Argo’s been hit,” Sato called out. “Port side—looks like Deck 5 took a full plasma burn. They’re still in the fight.”
Lee scanned the tactical overlay. “Have Oceanus and Stockholm shift port to cover the Australia’s flank. We need to keep them from closing the trap.”
The starfield burned bright as another round of magrail salvos erupted from Poseidon, Thunder, and Atlantis. The darkness of space was alive with fire trails, detonations, and expanding clouds of shrapnel.
Zodark laser fire lanced back—white-hot, disciplined beams burning into hull plating. A near-miss skimmed Thunder’s ventral hull, the weapon’s heat sparking flames along its lower decks.
“Sir,” Rhom said, “remaining cruisers are adjusting again. Not breaking off.”
“They’re stalling for time,” Lee muttered. “That second frigate must’ve already radioed for help.”
After they’d burst through the stargate not long ago, the situation had rapidly escalated into a full-scale engagement. Their arrival had placed them directly in the midst of a Zodark gas mining operation—where four bulbous mining vessels had been tethered to a collection array glowing with processed gases. When they’d first engaged, the Poseidon’s turbo-lasers had struck one of the miners, causing it to erupt in a brilliant fireball. However, Lee’s tactical decision to attack the mining site alerted nearby Zodark forces, who responded with overwhelming numbers—two battleships, four cruisers, and additional reinforcements arriving.
As the Republic ships found themselves outgunned, they formed a defensive perimeter, with the RNS Australia, commanded by Captain Eamon Roberts, serving as their main firepower. The man was also the Deputy Joint Task Force Commander—the ranking Republic officer in theater.
Initially, the Poseidon had scored a critical hit on the lead Zodark cruiser with its magrail turrets, splitting it in half, while the Thunder and Atlantis’s combined firepower had destroyed a second cruiser. Despite these early successes, Republic ships began taking damage, with Oceanus suffering a plasma strike and Argo experiencing significant hull damage on Deck 5.
The Zodark forces employed encirclement tactics, attempting to isolate and destroy the Australia. Lee had ordered Oceanus and Stockholm to protect their flagship’s flank, while continuing to engage the enemy. The Republic ships had inflicted significant damage on a Zodark battleship, but Lee had recognized the enemy was stalling for time as additional reinforcements approached.
With communication delays hampering coordination and no word from the Primord frigate with their rendezvous coordinates, the Republic squadron had found themselves in a desperate holding action against superior numbers.
At the moment, the gas miners had gone dark—either shutting down systems or preparing to self-destruct. One floated dead, spinning slowly in the wreckage of its sister vessel.
Sato glanced at her Qpad. “We’ve got less than ten minutes until we’re potentially overwhelmed. Still no word from the Primords.”
Lee stared at the hell unfolding outside their hull. Even with the hits they’d landed, the enemy force hadn’t blinked.
“Then we hold. We hold the line until they get here. No one breaks formation. No one runs.”
The Poseidon’s next salvo streaked through the black.
“New contacts,” Rodriguez called from comms. “Enemy strike wings launching. Fighters and bombers.”
“Visuals coming up,” Sato confirmed.
On screen, swarms of small Zodark starfighters—sleek, batlike vessels with emerald ion drives—poured out from the hangar bays of the battleships. Heavier bombers followed, each with torpedo pods and underwing payloads.
“Thirty-six fighters. Twelve bombers. They’re forming up fast,” Rhom said.
“They’re going for a coordinated strike,” Lee replied. “We’re about to get hit hard.”
He looked toward Sato. “Alert all ships—brace for incoming.”
A priority comm beeped through from the Australia. Roberts’s haggard face appeared on the tactical screen.
“Commander Lee, what the hell are you waiting for with those probes? We need intel from this sector now. Launch everything we’ve got—the more eyes out there, the better.”
“Aye, sir,” Lee acknowledged. “Baldry, deploy all reconnaissance probes, maximum spread pattern.”
Ensign Jace Baldry punched in commands on the sensor console. “Launching probes now, sir. Deploying in five-second intervals.”
On the tactical display, small blue dots burst from the Poseidon’s launch tubes, streaking outward in all directions. Almost immediately, several winked out as Zodark point defenses caught them.
“Four probes down already, sir,” Baldry reported, eyes dead set on his station’s interface. “Six more advancing deeper into the sector. Trajectory calculations complete—they’ll reach about six million kilometers in seventeen minutes.”
“How many made it past their front line?” Lee asked.
“Nine total still operational, sir. Three more just went dark—Zodarks are picking them off.”
The trap had been sprung—and now, the full hammer of the Zodark war machine was descending.
Before the strike wings could fully break formation, a new blip appeared on the sensor feed.
“Unknown contact—friendly IFF!” Rhom yelled out. “It’s Primord. A frigate just jumped in—right into the middle of the fight.”
The vessel broadcast across encrypted channels, delivering the jump coordinates.
Rodriguez’s voice rose. “Transmission confirmed. Data received—coordinates relayed to the squadron.”
Roberts’s tone sliced through the battle noise. “All ships—break contact immediately. Prepare for emergency FTL. We’re jumping to the new coordinates now.”
“Reynolds,” Lee said. “Calculate jump path and spool engines—get us the hell out of here.”
“Jump solution plotted. Spooling now—ten seconds,” Reynolds replied.
“Witkowski, prep local jammers and launch flares. Make us a hard target in case they try to hit us during spool.”
“On it, Captain,” replied the EWO, Lieutenant Jakub Witkowski.
The space around the Poseidon flared with defensive countermeasures. Plasma bolts raced toward them, narrowly missing as the ship’s frame vibrated under the intensity.
“Five seconds.”
Through the main monitor, the rest of the squadron pivoted. Thunder and Oceanus had formed a rear shield with the Australia, while Atlantis and Argo covered the right flank.
“Two seconds.”
The Ark-Fold FTL drive screamed to life.
“Wait!” Baldry’s voice rang to life. “Sir, we’re getting an upload from Probe Seven! It found something near the third planetary body.”
“Reynolds, hold jump,” Lee ordered.
“Holding at T-minus one, sir. Drives still hot.”
“How long for the full upload?” Lee demanded.
Baldry’s kept his gaze locked on the data streaming across his monitor. “Eighteen seconds for complete data transfer. Eighteen percent... thirty-six percent...”
Rhom grabbed at his leg, something Lee caught out of the corner of his eye. “Captain, enemy fighters closing!”
“Forty-three percent... sixty...”
Multiple impacts rocked the hull as Zodark energy weapons found their mark.
“Damage to starboard, section three, upper gun deck,” Sato reported.
“Eighty-nine percent...”
The bridge lights flashed on and off repeatedly as another hit landed.
“Complete!” Baldry said. “Upload received.”
“Jump now!” Lee commanded.
The Poseidon—and the rest of the battered Republic task force—vanished in streaks of light, leaving nothing behind but shockwaves and a sky full of fire.
Silence returned to the bridge.
Lee slumped slightly in his chair, exhaling for what felt like the first time in minutes.
No one said anything at first—the air filled with the soft hum of systems stabilizing and the quiet rustle of relieved breathing.
Rhom spoke first. “Close call, everyone.”
Sato sat back, rubbing her temple. “If that Primord ship had shown up even a minute later…”
“We might not be here,” Lee finished her sentence for her.
Rodriguez nodded. “Those bombers could very well have been our death.”
Lee looked around at his crew—exhausted, burned out…but alive. He let himself feel the weight of everything they’d survived. The pressure in his chest finally began to ease.
“That was our welcome to Rass,” he said.
“Think the rest of the mission is going to be easier, sir?” Reynolds asked.
Lee smiled. “Not a damn chance.”
Chapter 2:
Briefing at Kita
Year 2097
Stavros Naval Shipyard, orbiting Helios Forge
Primord system of Kita
A week had passed since Lee’s narrow escape. The memory of those final seconds still played in his mind every so often—jumping out just in time. Many of his ships had taken major hits before that transition. It was a miracle they hadn’t lost anyone.
In the interim, he and his damaged squadron, along with the Australia, had traveled back toward Kita for repairs. Now, as the Republic recon task force burst out of the FTL bubble, the usual discomfort of the transition hit Lee. As the Ark-Fold FTL drives disengaged and the MPD thrusters kicked online, his stomach churned, and a brief dizziness took hold. The disorientation slowly faded as they returned to normal space.
In spite of years flying through the void, he’d never quite acclimated to the sensation of FTL exits. Sometimes, it was even painful. He once described it to a civilian reporter who’d never experienced FTL travel as the experience feeling like growing pains—and all over the body—for a split second, then gone, and the gone part was just odd, and something he really couldn’t describe.
As the starfield stabilized, so did planet Kita. She was an emerald jewel of a world. Before her was an absolutely giant structure coming into view—the Stavros Naval Shipyard.
It sprawled outward from the planet’s orbit. It was full of docks and repair bays. Its incredible size boggled the mind—twice the size of Earth’s New York City. Two hundred berths stretched out—each was capable of holding vessels from frigates to orbital assault ships.
Repair drones swarmed around the shipyard. Worker ships moved around damaged vessels. Sparks from welding torches lit up the docks, accompanied by the blue flare of plasma cutters slicing through twisted metal. Tethered Primord technicians in EVA suits floated between hull breaches.
“Rodriguez, request docking permission for the fleet,” Lee said.
“Aye, sir.” Lieutenant Rodriguez interacted with her console. A moment later, her voice rang out. “Permission granted, Captain. We’re receiving individual berth assignments now.”
The main viewscreen displayed a holographic overlay of the shipyard. Primord symbols pulsed beside each dock. A translation holo-program kicked in to convert the Primord script to Republic Standard.
“Poseidon is cleared for Berth Xy-9,” Rodriguez said.
Lee nodded. Damage assessment data scrolled across a secondary display. Another ship, the Argo’s, magrail barrels one and three were red. It meant they needed to be fixed. He studied the detailed breakdown of the frigate’s injuries.
“Argo’s starboard hull is breached in three sections,” he muttered, more to Sato than the bridge crew. “Primary reactor off-line, life support systems running on auxiliary power. That last volley nearly gutted her.”
The screen highlighted the vessel’s wounds—tears in the exterior plating, exposed power capacitors sparking into the void.
They were lucky to make it back at all, Lee thought.
“Take us in, helm,” Lee said. “Nice and easy. Let’s not add any more scratches to our paintwork, all right?”
As the Poseidon glided toward its berth, the rest of his fleet moved to their own docking points. The massive repair clamps of Xy-9 reached out to embrace his ship like the arms of a metal giant. The docking rings engaged with a thunk.
“Docking complete, Captain,” Rodriguez reported. “All systems nominal.”
Lee nodded just as Rodriguez’s console beeped.
“Sir, priority message from Captain Eamon Roberts on the RNS Australia. He’s requesting your immediate presence for a briefing. Commander Sato is to accompany you.”
“Understood,” Lee said. “Rhom, you have the bridge. Once repairs are underway, the crew can begin rotating for shore leave.”
“Aye-aye, Captain.”
Lee tapped his comm. “Engineering, this is the captain.”
After a moment, Chief Engineer Boyd MacGregor’s thick tone filled the bridge. “MacGregor here, sir. What can I do for you?”
“Chief, I need you to oversee the repair process. Keep a detailed log of all work done and materials used.”
“Aye, Captain. I’ll be on it. Any particular systems you want prioritized?”
“Focus on the hull breaches and weapons systems. The usual. We need to be combat-ready as soon as possible.”
“Right, Cap. I’ll have the crew swarming over her right away.”
“Good. And, Mac, try not to antagonize the Primord engineers this time.”
A chuckle came through the comm. “Oh, all right, Captain, but where’s the fun in that?” He sighed. “But don’t you worry a lick. I’ll play nice with them ones.”
“See that you do,” Lee directed. “We need their expertise.”
“Understood, sir,” MacGregor replied. “Though I still say our systems are more resilient than theirs. Especially with those Altairian Gen-II Arkanorian Reactors we’re running. Each one generates sixteen hundred megawatts. That’s an obscene amount of power.”
“It’s impressive,” Lee agreed.
“Impressive? It’s revolutionary, sir. Those damn things power the ship’s two Cyclone MPD thrusters for interplanetary travel and two Ark-Fold FTL drives for interstellar jumps. I mean, impressive, no? These Ark-Fold drives cut FTL travel times from two light-years per month to one light-year per day. That means the old six-month haul from Earth to New Eden is now just six days. Obviously, that’s a new type of ball game right there.”
“When you put it that way, Mac, I see why you’re still excited about them. Now, just get us back in fighting shape.”
“Aye, Cap. We’ll have the old girl purring like subatomic strings vibrating in eleven dimensions.”
What the hell does that mean? “Excellent. Keep me updated on your progress.”
“Will do, sir. MacGregor out.”
Lee faced Sato. “Commander, shall we?”
“After you, Captain.” Sato motioned toward the bridge’s exit.
Lee addressed the bridge crew once more. “As you were. Rhom, you have the conn.”
“Aye, sir. I’ve got the conn,” Rhom replied.
Lee and Sato strode off the bridge and down the corridor. The lift doors opened, closing quietly behind them.
“Hangar deck,” Lee told the elevator. The lift whirred to life, taking them downward.
Sato cleared her throat. “Captain, if I may speak freely?”
Lee kept his eyes still on the lift’s display. “Of course, XO. What’s on your mind?”
Sato hesitated. “Been reviewing our recent engagement reports, sir. Casualty rates for human forces compared to our allies… they’re disproportionate.”
“Go on.”
“It’s just… I understand the importance of our mission, sir—abolishing slavery across the galaxy, expanding human influence, gaining access to advanced technologies, medicines, and scientific knowledge.” Sato’s voice lowered slightly. “But, I can’t help but notice we’re often at the forefront of the most dangerous operations.”
“Are you suggesting our allies are holding back?”
“Not exactly, sir,” Sato replied. “More that… well, humans seem to be assigned to the most aggressive maneuvers. Our tactics are often more… direct than those of the Primords or any other species we know of in the Galactic Empire.”
“You’re not wrong. Humans have a reputation for being effective shock troops.”
“I acknowledge that, sir,” Sato replied. “But at what cost? Sometimes it feels like we’re…” She trailed off, searching for the right words.
“Like we’re what, Commander?” Lee asked.
“Like we’re being used as cannon fodder. Our allies benefit from our aggression. You know, our willingness to take risks. Are we truly equal partners in this alliance?”
The lift slowed to a stop. Neither officer moved to exit.
Lee turned to fully face Sato. “Those are dangerous thoughts, Commander. But I’d be lying if I said they haven’t crossed my mind as well. We’re in a… challenging situation. Humanity’s still proving itself on the galactic stage. Our aggression, our adaptability—they’re assets our allies need. Thing is, you’re right to question if the cost is too high.”
Sato nodded. “I appreciate your understanding, sir. Don’t mean to sound disloyal or ungrateful for our allies’ support. It’s just…”
“It’s a heavy burden to bear,” Lee finished for her. “And it’s our job to make sure that burden is worth it—that the sacrifices we make lead to a better future for humanity and our allies alike.”
The lift doors opened, showing a busy hangar.
“Keep thinking critically,” Lee said. “But remember, we have a duty to perform. We can question the larger picture, but we can’t let it compromise our mission or the safety of our crew.”
“Understood, Captain. Thanks for listening.”
As they stepped out into the hangar, Lee added quietly, “And, Sato? These conversations stay between us. Understood?”
“Of course, Captain.”
On the hangar deck, crew members and maintenance personnel scurried about. They prepped shuttles and performed checks on crafts. Lee and Sato made their way past them and to the personnel transfer tube connecting Poseidon to the shipyard proper.
As they stepped through, the Poseidon’s stuffy corridors gave way to the natural architecture of the Primord facility. Living plants grew from the metallic floor. Their leaves swayed in an unseen breeze. A weird impression of being observed overtook Lee as they passed a cluster of fernlike flora. The fronds turned, tracking their movement.
Lee shook his head. “I swear those plants have eyes.”
“Second that,” Sato said.
Holodisplays lined the walls and showed real-time data of every ship docked in the facility. Automated repair drones zipped through specially designed conduits, ferrying tools and materials to where they were needed most.
The Primords’ technological prowess was evident in every aspect of the shipyard’s operations. Lee made a mental note to have his engineering team study their methods closely. Maybe they could come up with something as clever as the Prims. With Mac and his crew, Lee figured they could.
As they walked the corridors, the plant life continued to react to their presence. A vine-covered arch they passed under rustled as if greeting them. A cluster of purple flowers brightened as they neared, only to dim once they’d moved on. For a few seconds, Lee walked backwards to observe. And, yes, when another person closed in on the purple flowers, the flowers lit up, only to dim back down once the individual walked on by. To Lee, it was remarkable. If he had time, he’d love to read a peer-reviewed article on what the heck that was about, and why it brightened in the presence of a human.
Five minutes passed, and Lee and Sato arrived at the briefing room—a big chamber with a large holoscreen in the center. There sat Captain Eamon Roberts. As the task force commander aboard the RNS Australia, a Ryan-class battleship, Roberts served as Lee’s direct superior and critical link to the higher Fleet Command. His ship was docked at the shipyard as well.
Lee snapped to attention, saluting. “Captain Roberts, Captain Ripley Willis Lee reporting as ordered.”
“At ease, Captain,” Roberts said. “I’ve reviewed your after-action report and the combat vids. Interesting job.”
“Thank you, sir. We sustained heavy damage, but the crew performed admirably under extreme tactical pressure.”
Roberts’s expression remained stern. “Your after-action documentation lacks specific detail regarding evasive pattern selection during your FTL exit from the battle. The tactical analysis section is incomplete. I expect more thorough documentation in future reports, Captain Lee.”
Lee stiffened slightly. “Understood, sir. I’ll ensure all subsequent reports include comprehensive tactical breakdowns with full pattern nomenclature and response metrics.”
Before they could continue, the door slid open. A towering Primord male entered. He drew everyone’s attention. Lee looked up at the newcomer. The Primord’s giant elongated nose and oversized pointed ears made him unique even among his own kind.
“I am Admiral Dhorsar,” the Prim said, raising his arm in the customary Primord greeting. “Please, be seated.”
Lee and Sato sat on chairs seemingly grown from roots straight out of the floor. The seats swiveled smoothly, which was odd considering their organic appearance. The meeting table before them glittered like a nebula trapped in crystal.
Captain Roberts started the meeting. “Let’s begin. The data from your surviving probe has given a… somber picture.”
A holographic display powered on, showing a view of the Rass system. Admiral Dhorsar gestured, and the image zoomed in on planet Rass.
“As you can see,” Dhorsar said, his translated voice carrying a little distortion, “the Zodarks have established a defensive network.”
The holo highlighted rings of massive asteroids near Rass, floating at various strategic points in the system. Each rock bristled with weaponry.
Roberts chimed in. “We’re looking at approximately seventy-eight of these platforms. They’re significantly smaller than moons but large enough to house substantial firepower.”
Lee took in the images on the screen. “Those aren’t natural formations. What kind of armaments are we dealing with?”
Dhorsar manipulated the hologram, zooming in on one of the asteroids. “Each platform is equipped with high-yield laser cannons and torpedo tubes. The firepower is… considerable.”
Sato spoke up. “Any weak points we can exploit?”
“That’s where it gets interesting,” Roberts replied. “Intel suggests there are six hub platforms, each controlling thirteen others. Take out a hub, and you neutralize its subordinate platforms.”
“Sounds like a priority target,” Lee said. “Threat assessment?”
Dhorsar’s features twisted into what Lee assumed was a grimace. “The hubs are heavily fortified. Our scans indicate thick rock shielding, possibly reinforced. A sustained bombardment would be… inefficient.”
“Not to mention it would telegraph our intentions,” Lee added. “How many Zodark personnel are we looking at inside these hubs?”
Roberts shook his head. “Unknown. We’re still analyzing the data, but it’s clear they’re manned facilities. Understand, this is the first time we’ve encountered such defensive platforms. We’re still analyzing to find their weaknesses before we even attempt an all-out assault.”
Sato leaned back in her organic chair, which adjusted to her posture. “The density of these asteroids is remarkable. Do the scans show they’re far more compact than natural formations? I know they’re reinforced, but is that really rock material or armor?”
“It’s real rock,” Roberts said. “The Zodarks have engineered these to be incredibly robust too. Our standard mining equipment would be ineffective. And look at the control systems embedded throughout. They’re listed under the largest of the asteroids on the image there. They’ve essentially turned these asteroids into massive maneuverable space stations.”
The holo zoomed in on the biggest asteroid. It displayed numerous sophisticated systems. Gravitational field manipulators littered the surface. This allowed control over the asteroid’s movement. An inertial dampening grid crisscrossed the interior to stabilize the rock during maneuvers as well. Spatial displacement engines sat nestled deep within the rock, while a communication array sprawled across one hemisphere. Plasma containment fields glowed in a few places above the rock’s surface. They were there to channel immense energies to power the rock, and everything else inside.
“The defensive capabilities are equally impressive,” Dhorsar said. “Point-defense systems, torpedoes, and what appear to be gravity manipulators.”
Lee scratched his chin. “They could theoretically defend an entire planet with just a handful of these stations.”
“And they have seventy-eight of them,” Robert said. “That’s precisely why we need to understand them better, Lee. These aren’t just weapons. They’re incredible feats of engineering—like worlds in themselves, really. Now, to Rass itself…”
The hologram shifted to the scarred surface of Rass. Its terrain was marred by mining operations and industrial complexes. Deserts stretched between scattered mountains. The occasional rivers and lakes came into view. Roughly forty percent of the planet’s surface remained covered by oceans, though even these appeared lifeless.
Networks of buildings and facilities dotted the crimson landscape. When the hologram zeroed in on a specific region, Lee’s stomach turned. Images of enslaved Primords toiling in harsh conditions moved across the holo. Emaciated figures, their skin hanging loosely on skeletal frames, strained under backbreaking work. Some tossed massive stones into metal crates. Others hauled buckets overflowing with glimmering dust. In deep pits, Primords chiseled at rock faces. They worked these people practically to death.
Who’d want to live under those conditions? Lee mused. No one, and it’s why we fight.
Heavily armed Zodark guards patrolled the area. In one of the vids, a group of Primords struggled to push an enormous hovercart filled with ore. Their feet slipped in the loose soil as they fought against the weight. Nearby, others were forced to sift through piles of what appeared to be toxic waste with their bare hands. They searched for something Lee couldn’t quite make out while their skin peeled.
Although Lee maintained a stoic exterior, his inner fury blazed like never before. The injustice of it all—the subjugation, the cruelty, the disregard for life.
These damn Zodarks need to be stopped, he thought. It’s as simple as that.
Lee read the population estimates—1,200,000 Primords enslaved on Rass. They were outnumbered by 50,000,000 Zodark occupiers.
“Captain Lee, the intelligence we’ve gathered is invaluable,” Captain Roberts said. “We’re still extrapolating information from our task force’s data from all the probes that survived long enough to transmit info, but it’s already showing a clearer view of the situation planetside.”
Lee nodded, forcing himself to focus on Roberts’s words.
“Now,” Roberts continued, “We have a new mission for you and Commander Sato. To be clear, all our missions have changed not a little, but a lot after the intel we’ve gathered. Why? Because we need more intel from the glimpse of information we received in the Rass system.”
Lee straightened in his chair, all attention on the man.
“Your task force will join a Primord squadron patrolling the space lanes between Rass and Intus,” Roberts said. “Primary objectives are twofold: disrupt Zodark supply convoys and gather additional intelligence on enemy movements and capabilities there. This will give us additional valuable intel that’ll help us strike at the Zodarks’ core in the Rass system.”
“Understood,” Lee said. “What level of engagement are we authorized for?”
“You have clearance for offensive operations against supply ships and light escorts. Avoid prolonged engagements with heavy capital ships.”
Lee nodded. “Rules of engagement for civilian traffic?”
“Standard protocol. Detain and search if suspicious, but no unprovoked attacks.”
“What about our sensor profile?” Lee asked. “Will we be running silent or maintaining open comms with the Primord squadron?”
“Maintain encrypted comms with your Primord allies. Emissions control is at your discretion based on tactical situations.”
“Understood. Any specific intelligence targets we should prioritize?”
“Focus on ship movements, convoy patterns, and any signs of new weapon systems. We’re particularly interested in their long-range sensor capabilities.”
Sato perked up. “What about extraction protocols if we’re compromised, sir?”
“Emergency rendezvous coordinates will be transmitted to your nav computer. The Primords have designated safe harbors if needed.”
“Copy that,” Sato said. “Duration of the operation?”
“Initial deployment is for two months, with the possibility of extension based on results.”
Lee said, “And our rules for engaging Zodark military installations?”
“Observe and report only, unless directly threatened. Your fleet won’t be big enough for a full-scale assault. In other words, I know you’d succeed in whatever engagement you conduct, but I don’t want the risk. If you need to defend yourself, of course, you do what you must in order to survive and get the intel back to us.”
The briefing concluded with a detailed overview of their operational areas. Lee studied the holomap as it highlighted three key regions.
“Sector 2 will serve as Forward Operating Station Bulwark,” Captain Roberts explained. “I’ll be assuming direct tactical command of this operation from my flagship, the Australia. The FOB will consist of my Ryan-class battleship and Primord retrofitted transports they’ve turned into expeditionary bases. Mobile supply depots, munitions bunkers, and fuel stores.
“To be clear, Captain Lee, as your Deputy Joint Task Force Commander, I’ll be overseeing the entire Sector 2 campaign. Under my direct command will be five Primord battleships, six cruisers, four frigates, and six corvettes. Your mission remains intelligence gathering and convoy disruption along the specified routes.
“For this operation, I’m assigning you operational control of the Bolt and Scimitar frigates, along with the Polaris, Horizon, and Cobalt corvettes. You’ll report directly to me at 0800 and 2000 hours daily with full situation reports. Any engagement with enemy forces must be documented with complete tactical breakdowns. Additionally, again I’ve tasked Commander Jay Tulip—JT—as Red Team and Lee, for a second time, you’re Blue Team.”
Lee kept his expression neutral. “Understood, sir. I’ll ensure all vessels under my command maintain strict reporting protocols and adhere to the mission parameters you’ve established.”
“Good.” Roberts stood. “Any other questions?” After a moment of silence, he nodded. “Everyone, dismissed.”
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