Terran Commonwealth, Epsilon Prime, Garipan — War Planning Department
Time: Mid-November 2510, Dawn
The cheers in the main conference room had not yet entirely subsided. The elation of victory on the generals' faces mirrored the crumbling red data streams of the Draconian Imperium's battle lines in the "living data-verse."
Yet, amidst the celebration, only Jack Harlan, after a brief moment of relief, felt a more profound unease rise within him. He had won, but it was too "easy." As if… he had just been reading the correct lines from a pre-written script.
He moved his hand from the edge of the table, the color slowly returning to his knuckles. "Stay calm," he said in a low voice. "Watch the delta-v and their positioning first."
Just then, Leo's panicked cry, like a cold knife, instantly sliced through all the celebration.
"General!" he pointed to the other side of the data-verse, the airspace representing the entrance to the space jump point. "The Second Combined Fleet is sending an emergency alert! They've encountered the Imperial main fleet outside the jump point!"
All the smiles froze on their faces.
The main screen switched instantly, revealing a desperate picture: a massive Imperial special task force, with at least six aircraft carriers at its core, had already deployed about 1.2 million kilometers away. They were tearing through the airspace in formation, rapidly closing on the position of the Federation's Second Combined Fleet.
[THREAT_ANALYSIS] ENEMY_FLEET: IMPERIAL GRAND FLEET // CARRIER_COUNT: ×6 (CONFIRMED)[LINK] Q-COMMS LAG: 0.12s ｜ [ETA] CONTACT: < 120m ｜ [SIG] EW BLOOM ↑
"Impossible!" Colonel Bishop exclaimed. "Our intelligence showed the Empire didn't have this many forces in the Epsilon System!"
"Their forces," Jack's voice was quiet, but it silenced the entire conference room, "were transferred from the Vega Cluster. They took advantage of the window when our Third and Ninth Fleets were returning to the Federation Central Sector to resupply, and threw almost their entire garrison fleet from there, over here."
He didn't explain further, just typed a note in the tactical log:
[NOTE // OPCON: Harlan] "This isn't 'reinforcement,' it's sealing the door."
He looked at the star map, all the previous doubts piecing themselves together in that moment.
"To win the war in a single stroke…" Jack muttered to himself. " Cyril, or rather, 'Talos,' he's going to try and devour our entire aerospace power in Epsilon in one go."
"Leo," General Carrick's voice was incredibly grave, "run the simulations. Immediately. What are Admiral Pierce's options?"
Leo's fingers flew across the console. A few seconds later, three dismal simulation results appeared on the screen, each one leading to a disastrous outcome.
"General," Leo's face was pale, "Admiral Pierce has three paths. First: engage with all forces. Against an absolute disadvantage of six-to-one in carriers…" He didn't continue, but the large red text on the screen—FLEET SURVIVAL RATE: 0%—said everything.
"Second: local evasion, look for an opening. But there are no major concealment areas within the Epsilon System. The simulation shows that without resupply, they will be hunted down and annihilated within twelve hours."
"Third: initiate an immediate space jump and retreat to the Federation Central Sector."
"Retreat?" a general roared. "That's tantamount to abandoning the entire Epsilon Prime, and the First Combined Fleet that just gained an advantage!"
Everyone fell silent. It was an unsolvable deathtrap. To fight was annihilation; to flee was a disgrace, meaning the same strategic defeat. They could almost feel the suffocating pressure that Admiral Pierce was under, hundreds of thousands of kilometers away.
Jack didn't interject, just exhaled lightly. "Don't give an answer yet—let's see who makes the first move in the opening minute."
Just then, on the star map, an unexpected change occurred.
A new cluster of blue icons, representing friendly forces, shot out from the low orbit of Epsilon Prime. They didn't move to support the Second Combined Fleet. Instead, like moths to a flame, they charged heroically, unflinchingly, into the flank of the massive Imperial fleet.
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"What is that?!"
"It's… It's the Epsilon Sector Defense Fleet!" Leo's voice was filled with shock and admiration. "My God… they're on a suicide charge! Their fleet strength is only 30% of the enemy's!"
Everyone in the conference room was stunned by the scene. It was a fleet that could only be considered "second-rate" on paper, composed of some battered old ships and newly supplemented local forces. But at this moment, this fleet was giving all the generals in the command center a demonstration, using their blood and lives as teaching tools.
The subject was "Sacrifice."
[SFX] comms_static ｜ distant_war_cries[FLEET NET] "For the Federation! Charge!"
On the star map, the small cluster of blue icons, like a brave dagger, tenaciously slowed the high-speed advance of the Imperial fleet. They skirted the edge of the enemy's fire control range, carved a graceful arc, and executed a collective turn to flank the enemy fleet's rear, buying invaluable, precious time for the First and Second Combined Fleets with their own sacrifice.
Jack left only one line for them in the tactical network:
[OPCON: Harlan] "Every minute you buy me, I can use it on the ground."
Watching this tragic and heroic scene on the star map, Jack finally connected all the clues into a final, chilling truth.
He turned to face General Carrick, his voice trembling slightly with anger and fear: "General, we were all wrong." "The ground war at Garrow Hill was the first layer of deception. It made us believe the enemy's main thrust was on the ground." "The 'victory' of the First Combined Fleet just now was the second layer of deception!" his voice suddenly rose. "Talos deliberately let us win a battle, to let us celebrate, to let our guard down, and even to pin our main fleet far away from the jump point!" "His true target, from the very beginning, was the Second Combined Fleet guarding our retreat! He used a 'victory' as bait, drew our main force away, and then used his true trump card to sever our lifeline!"
In the command room, the joy of the recent victory instantly turned to cold ash. Everyone remembered the calm monologue from Cyril in the previous chapter: "The Empire's defeat on the ground will be redeemed in space."
That wasn't a prediction.
It was a verdict, already written, from the devil himself.
[Bridge, Epsilon Sector Defense Fleet Flagship, the Perseverance]
[TIME: SAME MOMENT]
"All ships, listen up," Fleet Commander Colonel Raymond's voice echoed on the comms channel, as calm as if he were discussing the day's weather. "Execute Operation' Final Horn.' Objective: buy time for the Second Combined Fleet to retreat."
Aboard the cruiser Iron Hammer, Major Tom Weber gripped the microphone, glancing at the young faces on his bridge. The twenty-two-year-old navigator, the nineteen-year-old weapons control officer, and the comms officer who had just graduated from the academy—they all knew what this meant.
"Alright, everyone," Weber's voice was soft, "I'm not going to give you any grand speeches. Our families are on the planet below us. Our comrades behind us need time to get out. It's that simple."
[SHIP_STATUS] “IRON_HAMMER”HULL: 87% ｜ REACTOR GRID: 73% → 68%SHIELDS — FORE: 41% ｜ AFT: 62% ｜ PORT: 49% ｜ STAR: 53%MAIN BATTERY: CHARGE 71%（COOL-DOWN 39s）｜ AMMO BAY: GREEN
The young comms officer asked with a tremor in his voice, "Captain, do we… do we have a chance of surviving?"
Weber shook his head honestly. "No. But that's not the point, kid." He taped a photo of his daughter to the edge of the console, his thumb rubbing the tape, as if calling roll for a tomorrow that would never come. "The point is, some things are more important than staying alive."
The roar of the engines reverberated through the hull. Thirty-seven ships of various classes formed a loose wedge formation and charged toward the massive Imperial fleet. Their p-B11 fusion engines pushed the fleet forward at a do-or-die speed of 2500 km/s, closing the 1.2 million kilometers to the enemy. At this velocity, they would enter the effective range of the enemy's main cannons in just under eight minutes. Against the overwhelming disparity in strength, it looked more like a swarm of moths flying into a fire.
“Distance to enemy 1.2 million kilometers… 1 million… 800,000…” the navigator’s voice grew increasingly tense.
[FLIGHT] VELOCITY: 2500 km/s ｜ FORMATION Δv: +2.3 km/s ｜ VECTOR: STERN FLANK
“Captain! Enemy is firing!” the weapons officer shouted.
[ENEMY_DETECTION] IMPERIAL_FLEET ｜ WEAPONS_LOCK: MULTIPLE TARGETS
[TTC] 7m48s ｜ FIRE CONTROL: ACTIVEThe roar of the engines reverberated through the hull. Thirty-seven ships of various classes formed a loose wedge formation and charged toward the massive Imperial fleet. Against the overwhelming disparity in strength, it looked more like a swarm of moths flying into a fire.
"Distance to enemy 1.2 million kilometers… 1 million… 800,00_0_…" The navigator's voice grew increasingly tense. [FLIGHT] FORMATION Δv: +2.3 km/s ｜ VECTOR: STERN FLANK
"Captain! Enemy is firing!" the weapons officer shouted. [ENEMY_DETECTION] IMPERIAL_FLEET ｜ WEAPONS_LOCK: MULTIPLE TARGETS[TTC] 3m17s ｜ FIRE CONTROL: ACTIVE
In the distance, the main cannons of the Imperial warships began to flash. Beams of energy, like the scythes of death, screamed across the void.
"All ships," Colonel Raymond's final transmission came, his voice still calm, "for those we protect. For the Federation."
Weber gripped the armrests of his command chair. "Iron Hammer, full speed ahead! Show these Imperial bastards the wrath of Epsilon!"
On the main viewscreen, the enemy's web of fire grew denser. But no one fell back. No one hesitated.
This was their final horn—not a triumphant anthem of victory, but a dirge written in flesh and blood.
From a distant link, Jack's voice came in, cut short: "…understood. Your service is noted—not the kind that goes in the numbers."
He watched the blue wedge on the star map being swallowed by the line of fire, piecing together all the fragments in his mind for the thirty-ninth time: "We weren't blind. We were blinded by a 'victory.'"
[FINAL_TRANSMISSION] "EPSILON_DEFENSE_FLEET"// MESSAGE: "MISSION ACKNOWLEDGED. GODSPEED, PIERCE."
[SIGNAL LOST]
(HUD: CAST LOT // LONG THROW // SEED A9C // RESULT: PROCEED)
