Divide and conquer

The day after the invasion began | Palaven

The darkness resting in one corner of the vast city flickered slightly. After a few moments, the darkness revealed itself as a soldier clutching a large rifle dressed in a tight and undersized jumpsuit. There was no source of light or bright spot on him, allowing him to blend into the shadows. His face was covered by a smooth mask that doubled as a high-tech helmet.

After looking around to ensure there were no witnesses, the warrior crawled slowly from his hiding place so that any movement would not give him away. The weapon, at its master's command, shrank, folded, and took up one of the slits in his back without interfering with its owner's movement. The Shadow, having consulted the route, crawled along the many passageways.

Soon, after passing through several ventilation shafts and other technical openings, the fighter leapt to the roof of the building and found himself on the street. The suit reacted instantly as the first star beam touched it, rendering the wearer invisible, reflecting the beams and projecting an image from the circular cameras. The figure instantly vanished into thin air. Glancing at the flow of traffic overhead, the soldier began his journey towards the city's main building, which stretched for more than a kilometre.

In his case, haste meant death. A bullet always finds its target, no matter when, a day, a week, or a year later. Time fades into the background as you wait motionlessly for the moment, for a few moments. It ceases to be mere service and grows into something more, perhaps even akin to life. The Shadow's life is an endless series of masks, roles, and deaths. Soon you are just drifting away from who you were with each passing moment. Many people forget themselves... The past life is replaced by a matted suit and a blade.

It begins with selection. You either survive once implanted, or you die too weak. Those who survive the pain and agony become immune to disease, old age and injury. When your body is transformed into a great and terrible weapon, you are ready to forgive much. Selection is followed by training. The novels in the Guardian strongholds tell of the first warriors who tried to understand and excel in every aspect. This system proved ineffective, as the average soldier was no match for an expert in a particular field. So, for nearly half a millennium, special schools have trained versatile agents who are perfect instruments of Terra's wrath. From the flatterer and ladies' man to the stealthy sniper, ready to strike at the heart of the enemy. From guardians of the peace of the polis to subversives capable of creating explosives and chemicals from rubbish. The school that trained assault teams to fight the enemy's special soldiers stood out. Biotics, discovered after the First War, proved an effective but incredibly costly weapon. Special teams were formed to deal with Biotics, capable of eliminating such individuals in the shortest possible time. But despite all this, the dropouts, the high mortality rate and the mental breakdowns of the rampaging humans, the schools continued to supply the Guard with new specialists, raising the bar in quality and training year after year.

The star slowly receded over the horizon, plunging the city into darkness, echoed by thousands of lamps and lanterns. Life in places like this doesn't stop at night, so seeing so much light is not surprising. The planets of the Republic or the Citadel shine even brighter. On the other hand, the soldier sat in the shadows, his rifle aimed at the main building. The victim was in no hurry, first a meeting, then a meeting with the supreme commanders. A vast network of sensors and agents transmitted the exact locations and times of the Hierarch's appearances. Unfortunately, it was impossible to get close to him, as only a limited number of people on the Imperial extermination lists could afford to do so. It was not necessary. Waiting... always pays off.

The position was perfectly chosen. The tower of one of the roadblocks guarding the approaches to the palace would be under suspicion if discovered. And who would be looking for a sniper when their sniper teams are there? Indeed, they've already sold their souls, but the agent won't be in much danger when they find out. For the moment, all attention was focused on the window of the target's office. The building's security systems had been thoroughly studied, and all information analysed. Special ammunition had been developed in a few cases for this mission, capable of overcoming the defences and hitting the target. Incredibly expensive and rare items, as was the ability to use them.

However, the reasoning had to stop when the office door opened, letting in light, and a tall Turian dressed in an expensive suit with insignia entered the room. Upon his arrival, the office systems immediately switched on the lights and the comfort systems: air conditioning, work terminal and the rest. The crosshairs went straight to the target's head, but nothing else happened. It had been drilled into him repeatedly in numerous training sessions that a true hunter takes his time to observe and only attacks when he is certain of the outcome. Haste had ruined more than one agent.

Meanwhile, the Hierarch threw his outer clothing onto a chair, leaving him in something resembling a shirt. He sits at his desk and works on the terminal for a few minutes. Suddenly, his gaze shifted to a small, almost inconspicuous recess in the wall. After hesitating for a few seconds, he exited his desk and walked towards it. Behind the thin partition was a small safe, which opened as soon as the Turian entered the code. The man immediately took out an incomprehensible shard on a beautiful stand and placed it on the table. Back in his seat, he gently touched the object and ran his hand over it. Immediately the shard began to emit a faint blue light, illuminating the Hierarch's face. The light grew brighter and more intense with each passing second. Running all the information he had gathered through his head and finding no mention, the gunner contacted the mission commander.

- Astar, are you observing the image?

"Confirmed, checking information."

- Awaiting orders, target in sight. - The sight began to analyse the situation on its own, the range of the shot, the wind, and the obstacles in the bullet's path.

"Alpha, we have confirmation of psychic influence from the subject. The fifteenth team will remove it. You're cleared for elimination.

- Copy that, Astar. I'm on it. - After comfortably gripping his rifle and checking the scope settings, the shooter chambered a bullet. He put the rifle on the ground and stood still. In the silence, the shot rang out like thunder. A second later, the bullet hit its target, and the Hierarch's head exploded in a fan of bloody spray. The body twitched violently, froze and fell to the table.

- Thank the Emperor for a quick death. - With two efforts, the rifle was gathered and placed behind his back. Immediately, explosions ripped through the city, sirens wailed, and chaos descended. More than a day in the making, the operation had gone brilliantly, avenging the dastardly blow in full. The Guardian looked once more at the burning city and the sky, where the wreckage of space stations and ships, torn apart by numerous diversions, fell in flaming balls. Assessing the scale of the disaster, the warrior began to descend from the roadblock, soon disappearing into the dark streets.

Two weeks after the invasion | Vestra Agrarian Imperial World

The two fleets moved slowly towards each other, occasionally exchanging long-range fire without much result. Aviation on both sides was also largely inactive, wanting to avoid coming under fire from the entire fleet. Occasionally, the opposing sides made raids on the enemy.

The flagship approached the stricken Hierarchy cruiser, which had lost its engines and was now fiercely repulsed by the remnants of its defensive systems and POISK. At the same time, the main compartment of the ship was buzzing with life. Mechanisms, operated by many people under the guidance of the Adept, were loading projectiles into the ship's cannons. The enemy hull was already visible on the external cameras.

The chief gunner quickly ran his fingers over the terminal, and the machines began to aim their guns at various points on the cruiser, looking for weaknesses. Soon the calculation was over, and the ship was at the centre of the sighting grid. After checking the readings, the gunner ordered a volley. The recoil compensators squeaked, and the gun recoiled from the recoil and spat out a shell casing. After a moment, the receiver returned to its starting position, "absorbed" the shell and the cycle was ready to be repeated. But this was not necessary.

The shells fired practically at point-blank range, tore the hull into several pieces and reduced the crew to dust. Cries of joy filled the gun room but soon died away, replaced by concentration, for the battle was not over.

Meanwhile, on the ship's bridge, the fleet commander discussed the future course of the battle with the other battleship commanders, whose images were positioned in the centre of the room, surrounding a projection of the battlefield.

- If we move the monitors forward, we can break through on my flank! - Ersius, the siege fleet commander, was as confident as ever, piously believing in the monstrous armour of his ships. - Then, we can cut them off from the catapult.

- Their new weapons, mounted on their dreadnoughts, pierce us like paper. - The Commander of the raiding squadron adjusted his tunic and continued. - You'll be floating in space before I get there. - The statement only made Ersius grit his teeth.

- We can hit the MLA, but we're at parity here. - said the tall officer commanding the carrier group quietly. - What's your word, Grand Admiral?

The images turned to the seated man, who surveyed the battlefield with a pensive gaze. Suddenly he nodded, apparently in agreement with his thoughts, and spoke:

- We have clear orders from the Admiralty. We will capture as many enemy dreadnoughts as possible and then take them to Mars. But only if it doesn't jeopardise the whole mission. Despite losing a few ships, we have a numerical advantage over the enemy, so we should be able to complete the mission. Ersius! - the mentioned officer stretched to his full height. - I approve of your plan. You will advance with your fleet and attack the right flank. At the same time, we will attack the remaining dreadnoughts and boarding parties.

- Casualties during the landing party will be sixty to seventy per cent... - The carrier commander looked at the Admiral thoughtfully.

- That's your job, Augustus. The MLAs should hit the ship's defensive systems and knock out its firing points and engine. The escort and the battleship will get close to the enemy and take out their guards, and then we'll throw out assault teams. Are you strong enough?

- Considering the enemy's MLAs? Yeah, I'm fine. I'll use some bots against the air force, and the assault teams will back you up.

- Excellent! Then the siege fleet will attack, and the battleships Retribution, Hellas, and Vesuvius will move to their designated positions. The air force will only attack once I give the order. Execute!

- Yes, sir!

****

Engines whirred in the darkness of space, and the majestic ships began to accelerate towards the enemy. The giant monitors slowly turned their turrets, and shells began to pour from deep within their hulls. The carriers' hangars opened, drones ejected, and lines of attack and fighter planes began to take off from the many decks. Once all the vehicles were in space, they split into several streams, aiming to pincer the enemy. It was then that the Turian Admiral, apparently aware that the battle was entering its active phase, attacked with his MLAs and the remaining outstretched white ships.

Hundreds of beams cut through the darkness, flying to meet the waves of stormtroopers. As they met, several vehicles flashed and veered off course for a moment, but that didn't stop the attack. The accelerated vehicles whizzed over the ship's hull, dropping bomb loads and firing key points from the onboard cannons. A wave of explosions tore through the hull, ripping out armour and hull plating. Air rushed out of the many holes, taking with it those crew members who had not managed to escape. Despite all this, the ship continued to run and function. But the attack didn't stop there. Several units approached the ship from the rear and began firing at the unarmed ship's engines. The ship's shield had long since gone to reload during the first attack, so there was no problem with the second approach. The squadrons returned to the carrier to make way for the main fleet.

The two squadrons moved towards each other, firing at each other. Suddenly, the Dreadnought's gunfire came to life, and a moment later, the two Imperial cruisers were scattered in the wreckage, cut in half by the energy beam. Vengeance was short in coming, however. Overloading their batteries, the Imperial fleet fired salvo after salvo, mowing down the enemy ships. Soon the last Security Cruiser was scattered in a cloud of debris, and Retribution began to approach the stricken ship from the side. When the ships were only a hundred kilometres apart, the Hierarchy's bow cannon flashed again, sending its beam through the battleship in a second. The energy pierced the weakened shield and quickly penetrated the armour.

A brilliant flash engulfed the ship and blinded nearby systems. The systems were forced to close the shutters on the windows to save the crew. As the glow began to fade and soon disappeared, the crews of the Allied ships were faced with a terrifying sight. The hull of the battleship had been completely torn apart in the area of the engines. The edges of the breach in the hull melted from the heat, and the paint around it faded. The ship itself held its course with the help of its many manoeuvring engines. As it levelled off, landing pods flew from its side, targeting the enemy ship...

- Report! - The Grand Admiral picked up the fallen cap and returned it to his head.

- We have taken a hit to the left fuel tank. The engine room is fifty-six per cent destroyed. - read the data from the junior officer's screen. - One hundred and forty-five casualties. Emergency teams have been dispatched.

- What about mobility?

- We've lost our left main engines. The right engines are also under forty per cent. The fuel line is damaged, and we're losing fuel.

- Not good... As soon as we're aligned, send out assault teams immediately! What's the situation here? What's on Ersia's flank?

- We've temporarily lost visual surveillance due to a chemical outbreak. Communications are also down, with a lot of static. However, radar readings show an enemy reserve of about fifty ships heading our way!

- Contact Ersius and tell him to move in and cover our retreat. Same for Augustus. Let his guys deal with the reinforcements. Navigator, set a retreat course. Five minutes to turn around, then we force the survivor engines. Do it!

The silence of the corridors was broken by the clatter of hundreds of soldiers and the flashing of emergency lights. The raised assault teams moved to the armoury, armed themselves and headed for the pods. Each fighter, clad in the armour appropriate to his speciality, received a weapon and, joining the squads, ran on.

When most of the vehicles were loaded, the ships began to lift off, slowly making their way into deep space. After seeing the first off, the Centurion wore his helmet and headed for his ship. At that moment, a boarding droid climbed up the ramp, followed by the rest of the crew.

- Did you check the armament? - the stormtrooper standing near the entrance stretched and thumped his chest.

- Yes, sir, several times. All ready.

- Who else will be thrown into the attack?

- Centurions Mark and Ceros, my Lord. - Hearing their names, the Centurion simply grinned. Their three teams had always been considered the most professional. When it came to the most important targets, they were the ones sent.

- Then there should be no problem. Let's go! - The officer put on his helmet and entered the capsule, the doors hissing behind him. A moment later, a slight jolt went through the ship, indicating that the engines had been activated and the ship was slowly creeping towards the airlock. The entry into space was marked by an incredible lightness of the entire body. The following three unbearably long minutes promised to be peaceful...

Several bright points detached themselves from the hull of the massive ship and rushed towards their virtually unarmed opponent. More lights joined them on the way, escorting and guarding the first. Halfway through, as if a testament to the indomitable nature of the Hierarchy and the crew, a PKO turret began to rise from one of the cannons. Once again, dozens of laser beams cut through the blackness. Though the fire was imprecise, death was able to find its prey. The beam flashed, and the gondola in front of them began to veer from its path, instantly becoming a sarcophagus for dozens of soldiers. Leaving a trail of pale smoke, it began its endless journey...

The ship's hull was once again crushed by the firestorm unleashed by the escort, sweeping away anything that might offer resistance. Meanwhile, the thinned-out landing party reached the ship, eager to avenge their fallen comrades.

The tense silence was broken by the soft whirring of the torches as they sliced through the hull. The tension grew with each turn of the torch; even the air seemed to thicken. Time slowed, pressing on the psyche. Soon, the machine made a final turn, and a piece of hull plunged forward with a thud. Instantly, bursts of Turian rifle fire rained down on the droid's armour ahead. The robot's cannons rattled, and it crawled slowly out of the ship, its hull swaying from side to side. The wall against the exit was a huge bloody mess, with numerous holes from blows. The bodies of the soldiers were also strewn about the compartment.

- Ceros reports that he's landed and is going to the reactor. - The Squadron Astropath hastily approaches the Centurion.

- Tell him to cut their power. We'll take the central bays and meet him on the bridge, Arsius," the fighter turned to the Commander. - Take your toys ahead and check the corridors. The ship should remain relatively intact. Everyone understands? - After the Commander had received the agreement of the fighters, he silently waved his hand, and the squad moved forward...

The troops sat in the corridor for several minutes, pinned down by the fire. A droid was leading an overwhelming fire somewhere in the distance, but it was useless.

- What's on the maps? - It was hard to hear over the gunfire.

- Sir, there's another way out, but it's near the compartment! We'll be hit from above! - The engineer assigned to the crew was frantically going through the ship's data, hacking into the network.

- Understood! Attention, all hands, prepare for the vacuum! - The armour on the limbs changed colour, the magnets clicked, and all the fighters "stuck" to the ground. - Arsius, missile over there!

With a long hiss, a rocket flew out of the hull and crashed into one of the compartment's walls. The explosion, blinding for a moment, instantly disappeared into the cosmic void, taking the defenders with it. After a few seconds, it was all over.

- We need to spend more time on this. - Communication was automatically activated when the air in the compartments ran out. - How much further to Ceros?

- His troops are fighting hard. He's lost two and has yet to take the reactor. As soon as he does, we'll rendezvous.

- Not good. Then we'll wait for him in the MLA hangar. That's where all the corridors converge, and we can defend there. Do we have contact with the battleship?

- Yes, they'll send reinforcements when we cut their power. The Dreadnought's guns are still operational and can't come up for a drop.

Gathering themselves, the squad moved on, slowly passing the breach. Through it, they could see the vast stars, fighters whizzing past and wreckage hovering nearby. Soon, however, the compartment ended, and the airlock sealed the soldiers out of the darkness of space, restoring the atmosphere. The proceeding was already easier...

- Allied troops approaching! - The squadron, swollen by the reinforcements, moved quickly towards the last strategic point on the ship. The ship had been without power for about ten minutes, so the emergency lights were the only light source to guide them. Allied fighters, led by an officer, emerged from the next corridor.

- Where did you lose your tin can? - The Centurions met and shook hands.

- I had to go through the landing bay; the equipment was still working there. There it lay. - He surveyed the swollen ranks. - I see that all of ours have already been picked up?

- Yes, Mark was lost... - There was silence for a few seconds. - So they sent reinforcements.

- Pity, he will soon be in his twentieth year of service. Bad luck... - Every inmate understood that his fate was a combination of chance and luck. If something was missing, even for a moment, that person's journey was over. - What happens next?

- We break down the door and take the deckhouse. If we can, we capture the Commander. Then report back.

- You lead the way, and we'll search the adjacent rooms. - Once the two officers turn around, they'll return to their squads.

The timer counted down the last seconds, and there was an explosion. The door collapsed with a long groan, revealing the rest of the crew to the stormtroopers. They tried to fire back but were unable to do any serious damage. They were all killed in a brief firefight. The Centurion, surrounded by soldiers, moved quickly towards the Admiral's position.

- Astropath... report to the battleship. Admiral Hierarchy was shot dead, the ship seized, awaiting orders. - Leaning forward, he picked up the weapon that had fallen from his cold hands. - At least you kept your honour. - The weapon took its place on the chest of the shot man.

- Sir, the trophy teams have already been sent to us. Other ships have confirmed that the dreadnoughts have been captured.

- That's wonderful. It was a fine battle today! - He turned to the other fighters who surrounded him and took over the entire cockpit. - Fighters, think of those who will not return to their ship! We may not belong to the whole of Earth, but our souls are the first to reach the Emperor!

He surveyed the stretched men, who listened to his every word.

- To battle! - he was answered with a synchronised, thunderous shout.

- A DAY FOR LIFE!

One month after the invasion | Colony of the Hierarchy of Vasalar

The fleet sailed majestically over the defenceless planet. A few hours ago, the enemy fleet had retreated after a series of brief skirmishes in which two dreadnoughts and a dozen cruisers had been lost. Huge shadows covered the Earth, causing all life to hide or flee. The masters of the planet, on the other hand, prepared for battle, as a fairly large garrison would allow them to hold out for a very long time, for the planet was not the most favourable. But the attackers had other plans...

The tall officer looked down at the planet. His face was completely emotionless, but inside, a storm was raging. Everyone sees the war from different angles. Some hear about it through dry reports while working in huge factories. Some will strive to enter it, showing determination, courage and other qualities. And some will see death... and be powerless to prevent it. He remembered that day, staring helplessly at the rockets falling from the sky, unable to do anything about it. The week that passed in constant fighting, with no end in sight. Countless fields of rubble after each battle. And because of that, vengeance tore at the sight of another man's city.

- Grand Commander Twelfth Squadron reported destroying the last PKO batteries. - The first mate approached silently, as usual, sometimes making you shudder.

- This planet is of no use to the Emperor, Galt. - The Commander turned and moved to his chair.

- Is there an order for the protocol of Adolebit? - At that word, everyone in the control room faced the speakers.

- All life on the planet will be destroyed, and then it will go to Horde. - The officer turned to the frozen crewmen. - We will be the first to avenge the burned cities and fields. For the millions who died! They will know what it's like to look into the burning sky! Begin preparations for an orbital attack! - The audience slapped themselves in unison and spread out to their stations. Immediately, the Commander's order echoed throughout the ship, and preparations began...

Huge missiles took their place in the launch silos. Their hulls were scrawled with the names of those who had died defending their homeworld, those who simply never woke one day, or those who died from lack of food and medicine. Many bore the names of entire planets where life had been lost. Everything people wanted to give back to those who came before them was written on these rockets. And now their wish was being fulfilled.

As the timer counted the final seconds, jets of flame ejected a rocket from its silo, and it hurtled towards the ground. Each carried a nuclear charge of enormous power, capable of forever erasing any trace of the surface. Now tens of thousands of lights counted down the last minutes of the world's life as the ships departed...

Sirens blared, warning of danger. Ghosts raced through the streets, looking for cover or a ghostly chance. Not many just stood and waited, aware of their fate. Either way, the overcast sky erupted first, followed by clouds of hundreds of fiery trails. When they reached land, the inhabitants last saw a blinding light...

Two months after the invasion | Palaven

The alarm clock habitually woke the man, for it was not the first week. Turning it off, he abruptly got out of bed and headed for the shower. After his nap, he quickly dressed, pulled his tunic over his shoulders and stepped out into the hallway. As he opened the door, he almost bumped into the co-pilot, who had already raised his hand to knock.

- Good morning, Commander. - The second-in-command stretched to his full height at the sight of his superior.

- At ease. What is it today, Mark? - The man picked up a pilot's cap from the table and placed it on his head.

- Admiral Werner is expecting us in his office after twelve o'clock. As long as it's free.

- Then we'll go to ours. - The two pilots walked down the corridor to the mess hall, where almost the entire crew was milling about. - What have you heard from the 'night men'?

- They were working in the plants today, near the pylons. They say up to a dozen interceptors came out at them.

- That's a lot... How did it go? - When they reached the site, they stood in a general line and continued their discussion.

- The 113th took a shot in the right engine. Barely made it to the carrier. Half the crew is wounded and already in the infirmary but eager for revenge.

- Has the fleet sorted it out? - After receiving their rations, the officers moved to the table assigned to the crew.

- Yes, we spent the whole night ironing from orbit; thank God the area is unimportant. - When they reached the table, the rest of the crew appeared before their eyes. The soldiers jumped out of their seats when they saw them, but a wave of the Commander's hand and they all went back to their work. - Let's see what we get today.

A long time ago, there was a saying on Terra: If you remember something, it will appear. And now, as soon as the mission was mentioned, the adjutant flew to the mess hall. When he spotted the chewing pilots, he quickly approached them.

- Master Astar. - The envoy gave a military salute. - From the Admiral. - He slid a sealed scroll from his pouch into the officer's hands. In general, paper was rarely used, only when the task was very important and secret so that it would avoid falling into the wrong hands. Taking out a special badge, Astar leaned it against the reader, and the message unfolded. Running his eyes over the text, he turned the paper again and scrolled the two pieces towards each other. There was an instant reaction, and the paper turned to dust and vanished into thin air.

- I will be there as soon as possible. - The messenger nodded and moved towards the other crews.

- What is it, Captain? - The entire crew looked eagerly at the officer.

- Intelligence has located their main hiding place. We're working on it today. - There was a cheerful commotion around the table, people jumping up, grabbing their coats and rushing out of the room towards the hangars. That was the reaction at almost every table. The Commander wore his tunic and went to the briefing room with the other captains...

- So this is where the new weapons are being made. It's also where the people from the nearby big cities are hiding, the biggest hideout of all, I'm telling you.

- The guards won't be able to do anything? - The Commander of the 455 stared thoughtfully at the screen, drumming his fingers on his desk.

- They will only have time to prepare something special, and you can be very effective with that.

- What about the MLA? - Astar also read through the data.

- What had happened during the night had taken us by surprise. - The Admiral slowly approached the panoramic window overlooking the planet. - It looks like they still have bases on the planet itself; worst of all, we can't see them. For tonight's raid, you're going in with extra cover squadrons. They'll probably send their fighters to intercept, and we'll cover their bases with fire. Your mission is the same. Any questions? - He looked around and didn't hear an answer; he went on. - Then he dismissed us. We take off in an hour and a half, and I hope you all make it back. Good luck.

As the door closed behind the last officer, the old Admiral sighed tiredly and looked again at the burning planet...

The white spacesuit fit comfortably around his body, the spherical helmet hung from his arm, and the pistol and other necessities were scattered in numerous pockets and recesses. This was what every pilot in the Imperial Fleet looked like. Astar stepped quickly into the hangar and blinked against the bright light momentarily. When his eyes adjusted, he saw a pre-departure flight's usual hustle and bustle. Bombs were being brought aboard and suspended by cranes in special compartments. The annoying crackling of ammunition ran down the belts, adding ammunition to the turrets. Pumps howled, pumping fuel and other vital fluids. As he approached, all the technicians stood at attention.

- At ease. - The maintenance crews began to finish their checks, disconnecting all the hoses and moving the machinery away. After one more look at the picture, the Commander began to climb the ladder inside. After a moment, he found himself in a slightly cramped cabin with room for five people. At the front, in front of the large armoured glass, were the two pilots' seats. Below them sat the gunner, surrounded by many screens and computer equipment. Behind him sat the radio operator and the armament operator. Everyone was already at their posts, making checks.

- Two minutes to go. - Mark had already finished warming up the engines and was activating all the systems individually. With each flick of the toggle switch, more and more gauges lit up.

- The ECU is loaded... the fuel is good... everything is ready. - The co-pilot signals the technicians and slams the hatch shut. - It's time.

- That's right. - The officer put on his helmet, which clicked into place with a faint hiss, and hooked up the controls. The steering wheel was familiar in his hands, and the screens gleamed with such familiar data. - Give me the ignition.

The growing rumble began to fill the hangar. The huge twin-engined machine, armed in every direction, began to rise slowly from the floor and move just as slowly towards the airlock doors. Soon the bombers pierced the force fields and were launched into open space. Jet thrusters flashed, and the death-bringing jets hurtled at breakneck speed towards the tormented planet...

- Ours at five o'clock. - the radio operator reported monotonously, and two dozen fighters took their place in the formation. They did so almost before entering the atmosphere.

- Now it's going to shake. - And indeed, the fuselage began to shake because of the abrupt entry, but that was the usual thing for all crews. Soon, because of their high speed, the machines were racing through the clouds, manoeuvring between the columns of smoke rising from the burning settlements. On the ground, the cameras caught occasional glimpses of life as they tried to hide under any rock or crevice they could as soon as they heard the roar of the heavy machines. Soon the attackers saw their target, the capital, spread out over hundreds of kilometres around them. Only ruins and debris remained of its former glory, but the crews cared little. They had orders to deliver a precision strike, and they were going to deliver.

- There are tracks on the radar! Twenty G's, north, twenty kilometres! - the alarm sounded, spreading the message throughout the ship. At that moment, the escort turned sharply towards the enemy, and the fighters flew towards each other. Soon the first tracers flew across the sky, and the first burning wrecks began to plummet to the ground. However, five markers separated from the main Hierarchy group and quickly began to catch up with the strike group. The Captain ordered the operator to open fire...

The multi-barrel turret rumbled, and the first attacker, a burning lump, disappeared into the clouds. In response, the mass accelerator rumbled, and a burst of fire struck the wing of the outermost plane. One of the engines burst into flames, and a trail of smoke followed. The crew immediately jettisoned the bomb load, and the plane began a steep climb to escape into the void.

- Bad luck for the boys. - The co-pilot followed the crash with cameras, which soon disappeared into the sky.

- They will get out, not the first. Bring down the rest! - he said to the operator. He just nodded and started running his fingers over the panel. Soon two more enemy vehicles were hit by a burst of gunfire and collapsed in a debris cloud. The last two were destroyed by Allied crews.

- What about the target? - The reassembled formation broke through the clouds again. Anti-aircraft guns fired from the ruins now and again, but they could do nothing to stop the approaching ships.

- The square was still two minutes away. - The map showed the exact location and approach vector of the target. - The scanner did indeed see a lot of markings underground. There are several firing points all around. The radar is clear.

- Then we go as planned; there's no point in going higher. Do we have a fix on the other boards?

- Yes, the targeting is in place. We're getting feedback from the neighbours.

- Then get ready... open! - The bindings have begun to open, revealing another fearsome weapon. The cylindrical casing was filled with high-precision electronics and powerful explosives. It was designed to penetrate large amounts of rock and destroy the underground fortress. This is exactly what happened. For a week, virtually the entire population had been hiding in underground shelters where weapons and ammunition were being manufactured. Normally such places would be destroyed from orbit. Still, planets were important to the Empire, so the selective bombardment began. After a few attacks, the planet usually didn't put up a fight.

- I'll give you thirty seconds. - the gunner's voice came through the earpieces. The computers locked on the target and began to calculate.

- Twenty... nineteen... - The instruments showed the inhabitants huddled on the surface, fully aware of their fate. - Fifteen... Fourteen...

- Commander, the order to return and call off the attack has come! - The communicator's voice rushes into consciousness like a hurricane.

- Any confirmation?

- Yes, an order from Terra herself. - Five seconds before jettison, the guidance system went off, the hatches closed, and the ship began to gain altitude.

- What happened out there? - The crew could afford to relax once the machine was in space.

- They laid down their weapons! The war is over; we won. The Emperor has signed a peace treaty.

- Well, that was starting to get annoying... - The airwaves were filled with shouts of joy, congratulations and discussion of the day. Another horrible page in history, over...

The Thessian Defence Fleet | The Path of Destiny

- Matriarch, the Imperial fleet is due to arrive in ten minutes. - Lydanya listened to the report as usual and dismissed the aide.

- We will see how this meeting ends. - Azari put her foot on her leg and sat up more comfortably.

- Maybe the war will end, and we will return to the Citadel. - one of the navigators smiled sadly and turned to the Captain.

- I hope they have slaughtered half the galaxy by now. And, strangely, we haven't been affected by it as much as possible. - The Matriarch looked thoughtfully at the countless stars behind the glass.

- I have heard from one of the scouts that the fighting has already reached Palaven! They have pitted two vast fleets against each other for two months. - A third of the crew joined the conversation.

- It's like finding scorched planets. I can't even imagine such a weapon in my mind.

- The radioactive background proves it. An ordinary weapon of mass destruction but of monstrous power. - The Matriarch has spoken.

- Unless...

- There's a signal for the fleet to leave! - A shout immediately interrupted the discussion, bringing silence back to the bridge.

The space in front of the fleet began to widen, and soon ships emerged from the gaps. In addition to the usual battleships, of which there were three dozen, a huge gap began to open in the middle of the formation. Soon the beginning of the hull of a... space station?

- Is this the Citadel? - The eyes of those present focused on the incoming object. And it kept coming in and out, growing longer and longer. Countless weapons were visible, pointing in all directions. Huge passageways and windows are hidden behind mighty shields. And strangest of all... engines! According to the data, it appeared to be an enormous ship, only slightly smaller than the named station.

- We have... an incoming signal. - Having recovered from the sight of the super-ship, the communications operator switched to the main screen. After a moment, a man in the uniform of the ship's Commander appeared on it.

- Matriarch," the interlocutor nodded slightly and, after waiting for a response from the Azari, continued. - "Commander Ralas, we're waiting for a report on the squadron's position.

- We weren't expecting a ship like this! - The Matriarch waved a hand in the direction of the giant.

- I understand, but the Lord has chosen to attend the negotiations, and this ship is his personal flagship. We are prepared to move to another area to avoid interfering with traffic.

- There is no need... - The woman began to massage her temples, then sighed. - Stay in the same quadrant. Would you like a transport to take you to the palace?

- No, the Lord will come himself. Good day. - At these words, the connection died, and several points separated from the Imperial flagship and moved towards the planet.

- This is some kind of dream... - The matriarch slumped wearily in her chair and looked at the shuttles.

- Where are we on the front lines, Achil? - The ruler in his golden armour sat on his throne as usual, studying the many star charts and the data they provided.

- The troops are already orbiting their capital. However, their fleet is still scattered across several systems and could be dangerous for communications. The Citadel still needs a word.

- Patch me through to the Legatus. - After a few moments, an image of the Chief Companion and Commander appears before the Emperor.

- Lord... - the warrior bowed.

- Greetings, friend. What is the situation? - Since the outbreak of the war, the Citadel has become a vast battleground that has not subsided throughout the conflict.

- We've entrenched ourselves in the Ring and the Presidium. Now we're fighting for the docks, but it's only a matter of time. Admiral Höhler is trying to dislodge the enemy fleet, but they are protected by the station's PCO. However, the landing ship Macedonia broke through the blockade two days ago and landed on one of the station's segments. It is currently under our control. From there, we are firing on other segments and the enemy fleet. There is information that another ship has landed on the second petal, but I can't confirm it yet.

- I'm sending you additional forces. They're not needed here yet, and they'll help you take complete control of the station.

- Thank you, my Lord. Any further orders?

- No, do as you wish. I'm going to Tessia to discuss a possible truce.

- Peace again? - My companion's face grew dark.

- Worse for her, surely. Don't worry; you'll be the first to know. Over and out. - The image has vanished into thin air.

- Begin your exit from the breach, Achill. I'll be waiting by the shuttle. - The Overlord rose and hurried out of the room.

- Yes, my Lord...

Unfortunately for the press, who had already stopped showing footage of the ships hovering over the planet, the shuttles flew over the crowd and landed behind a fenced-off area that was off-limits to ordinary people. Not even the most important people could get in. The entire building was sealed off by troops, and increased patrols moved through the streets.

The Council Chamber was silent. The matriarchs present waited patiently for their guest, who would arrive at any moment. Suddenly there was a noise outside the doors, and they slowly opened to reveal an even line of soldiers in golden armour and scarlet cloaks - the usual attribute for any important person in the Empire. The guards spread quickly and accurately along the wall, taking control of the entrance. And then a new warrior entered the room...

Twice as tall as anyone else present, he was clad in armour of incredible craftsmanship. On his belt was an ornate scabbard containing a long sword. A blood-red cloak fluttered lightly behind his back. The helmet was made of strips of unknown metal stretching upwards from the back, the visors shining. The other parts of the armour were the same, complementing each other perfectly.

He walked over to the table where the matriarchs were waiting, their eyes wide as they gazed at the newcomers. Meanwhile, he approached the table and looked with interest at the prepared chair, which was 'slightly' the wrong size. With a light push, he rolled it aside and stretched his arm over the seat at the head of the table. The floor began to shake slightly, and soon, one of the stone slabs that adorned the hall began to change shape and grow in height. When it reached the right height, it spread out to the sides, changing shape as it went. Soon the substance solidified with a click, revealing an enormous throne upon which the ruler of the people sank. He looked at the stunned leaders of the Republic, who were aware of what they had seen, grinned and began to speak.

- I'm glad we could meet in person. - At the sound of his voice, the women shuddered and came to their senses.

- We are... Also pleased to welcome you...

- You can just be the Emperor. I'm used to it.

- As you wish. I am pleased to welcome you on behalf of the entire Republic. We have much to discuss...

- A fair point. What exactly do you wish to discuss?

- Well, for starters... - Tevos paused - it's the war with the Hierarchy. Can we find out how it goes and what happens in the end?

- Well, yes. As you know, we didn't start the second war. We lost ten colonies before active defence began. Nearly twenty billion citizens lost their lives...

- Will you retaliate or...

- We will! - The Ruler's voice became like steel, "We can gnaw at each other's throats over pieces of space rock or beliefs, but when something alien begins to creep towards us with the sole intention of killing, then we will unite. We will demand twice as much for the blood we have spilt. We will be able to destroy any enemy who dares to trespass on the worlds of the Empire. They will either become the dirt beneath our feet or turn to dust. Every soldier at the front has a reason to retaliate and fight. That's what makes us special. And I am no exception.

- But... many ways are more peaceful! Do you really want to wipe them all out?! It's an entire race!

- Don't worry; revenge has already found its prey. - The voice has softened, becoming neutral again. - But I have no intention of tolerating another potential threat to my subjects that will be repeated repeatedly. You know, there's an interesting principle to divide and conquer. Believe me, divide their planets and set up a blockade, and they will fall in weeks if not days. Hunger shows animal traits, no matter how disciplined you are. In time, we'll give them freedom under our patronage. In the meantime, we'll take our share from them.

- What of the Council? - It wasn't what the Matriarchs expected to hear, but there was no point in arguing.

- We give you the Citadel and all other developed territories in the galaxy. Take charge of the other races; they are in a critical situation. Convene a new Council and try to prevent another war.

- That... ... is a long discussion, and a long one.

- Well, we're in no hurry...

- Are you sure?

- Yes, my Lord. The teams took the object to Mars, where we ran a scan. The resemblance is one hundred per cent.

- That's not good. So that's what drove it to attack?

- Yes, we believe that the machine technology was transmitting its will to all of the Hierarchy's top brass. Almost every general has found one of these things.

- So they're closer than we thought... Much closer...