The Martian fleet advances—
slow and deliberate,
like a titan wading through the void.
Holographic projections shiver under the surge of data.
In the command hall, a low hum vibrates through the steel—
like the breath of some vast, ancient beast
stirring deep inside the machines.
The air grows thick.
Tension crystallizes.
You could almost hear it crack between your fingers.
"I'm picking up a new target!"
The recon officer's voice slices through the silence—sharp, anxious,
edged with something that borders on fear.
"Massive object... emerging from behind the planet. Structure unidentified. Possibly... a battle station!"
Tyler's head snaps around.
His eyes—sharp, disbelieving—lock onto the projection.
Inside him: instinct.
A soldier's pulse of dread.
There's something wrong.
Something… lurking in Mercury's shadow.
This isn't just a target.
This is a challenge.
"Don't wait for confirmation," he barks.
"Main batteries—lock and fire. Now!"
The command shoots into the neural net.
Instantly, the entire fleet moves like a single body—
as if one mind commands it all.
Targeting officers dive for their consoles.
Drone formations split apart, clearing the line of fire—
like jaws parting before the bite.
Ten heavy cruisers in the vanguard swing their towers around.
Their armored hulls gleam black in starlight,
like war cathedrals carved from obsidian.
"Target locked. Guns primed for volley," the reports come in, perfectly synchronized.
And on every screen—
she appears.
Aspida.
A monolith.
Her metallic skin catches sunlight with an emotionless chill.
The shields on her flanks pulse faintly—
like the breath of a sleeping giant.
"Fire!" Tyler roars.
"Destroy that thing!"
His voice is pure rage—
a blow cast in iron.
Plasma batteries unleash in unison.
The vacuum flares.
Lances of light tear across the void.
The blast echoes in the bones of the ship.
The bridge shakes.
Everyone holds their breath.
Aspida ignites—
but not in destruction.
In reflection.
The energy slams into her shielding—
fractures—dissolves—disappears.
As if the universe itself
refuses to admit the impact ever happened.
Aspida glides out of shadow—
intact.
Majestic.
Awake.
A silence falls across the command center—
the kind that freezes blood.
That hollows the chest.
Tyler slowly straightens.
His face—a mask.
Behind his eyes—confusion, turning to fear.
"Target remains intact!" the recon officer shouts.
"Energy signature rising!"
"Deploy five drone layers—now!" Tyler snaps.
His voice is cold, metallic.
Inside, he's already counting seconds.
What is this machine?
What kind of weapon?
We weren't ready.
We didn't know.
Now all we can do—
is endure the first blow.
Officers leap to their stations.
Flanking drones peel off, screaming into motion.
Five echelons form a perfect cube around the fleet.
A single defense grid.
A desperate wall.
Flash.
A burst of light—brighter than the Sun.
Aspida fires.
A lance of energy slices through space.
First layer—vaporized.
Second—shattered.
Third—melts.
Fourth—buckles.
Fifth—rips, too late to matter.
Breakthrough.
The energy crashes through the defenses.
Residual force slams into the cruisers.
Three lead ships ignite—
like candles in a solar wind.
Metal liquefies.
Armor fractures.
They collapse—
no screams.
No emergency protocols.
Only silence.
Tyler stands rigid, a statue on the bridge.
But inside—he's cracking.
Not just shock.
He's witnessing an ending.
"What is this…" he whispers.
"What kind of weapon is that? Where did they get this power? What... what even is that thing?"
This isn't technology.
It's a verdict.
We struck—and didn't even scratch it.
And they… haven't even begun to fight.
The alarms scream in the background.
No one answers.
Only the hum of systems.
And the recon officer's broken voice,
dry like sand after choking on smoke:
"Three cruisers lost. Vanguard wiped out."
Tyler winces, as if the truth itself is poison.
He clamps a hand to his forehead—
as if trying to wring a solution from his skull.
"Rebuild the defense—ten—no, fifteen layers on the front axis! Now!"
"Understood!"
The officers are already moving.
Drones reposition, waves upon waves crashing into new formations.
Fifteen defense lines rise before the fleet.
An energy lattice forms—
a single wall of desperation.
"All cruisers—reform into a unified plane! All twenty-two!"
Tyler's voice is steel again.
"This time we strike back. Full force. Right through the front!"
"Executing!"
If we burn—everything burns.
But they'll know what the wrath of Mars looks like.
And even if it's the last order I ever give—
it will leave them remembering my name.
Holograms pulse with crimson light.
The fleet begins to shift.
Plasmatron towers rotate into firing position.
The full force of Mars coils into a single fist.
And it is ready to strike.