Orn stood in the captain's chair as they drew close to an asteroid belt floating in the void like the scattered bones of some ancient cosmic graveyard.
It was barren, completely devoid of any mining ships, extraction pods, or industrial activity—which was exactly what he'd expected. This was the Inner Rim. Whatever valuable resources had once existed in this particular region of space had long since been harvested and stripped clean by previous generations. This place was picked bare, a skeletal remnant.
The moment The Honest Star crossed into the designated area, Orn felt a powerful wave of Psionic energy wash over the entire ship like an invisible tsunami. The vessel actually shook from the metaphysical turbulence created by such an overwhelmingly powerful mind—an unthinking, instinct-driven consciousness operating on a scale that defied normal comprehension.
Sometimes Orn wondered if the universe was truly aware of what it was doing when it created colossal space-dwelling creatures the size of ancient long-necked dinosaurs. Except, of course, this particular beast bore no resemblance to a brachiosaurus or any terrestrial creature.
It looked like a titanic jellyfish drifting through the void.
The massive crown atop its body glowed with a shifting kaleidoscope of multicolored bioluminescent lights, pulsing in patterns that might have been beautiful under different circumstances. Its dozens of massive tentacles—each easily hundreds of meters long—spread out across the vacuum like grasping fingers, writhing and coiling as it relentlessly battered itself against an obstacle.
The Norkel was attacking a structure that could only be described as preposterously ostentatious.
Orn sneered behind his mask. Trust wealthy politicians and their pathological need to be overly gaudy and completely impractical, even when their lives depended on functionality.
It wasn't exactly a proper military fortress—it was essentially a private estate that had been constructed directly onto the surface of a massive asteroid and then retrofitted with what appeared to be extremely powerful defensive technology. The entire structure was surrounded by a shimmering blue energy barrier that rippled and distorted with each impact.
That was the only reason the Norkel hadn't already ripped everything and everyone inside to bloody pieces.
The beast kept hammering away at the shield with mindless persistence, its bioluminescent patterns flashing with what might have been frustration or pain. Try as it might, the barrier held firm against the onslaught.
Orn's tactical analysis continued as his eyes swept across the scene. There was another vessel in a stable orbit around the besieged space fortress—a stealth cruiser. The sleek, predatory black shape of the ship was immediately recognizable. That design was practically synonymous with the Theocracy's elite kill squads.
They were built for speed and lethality, equipped with advanced technology that rendered them effectively invisible to most scanning systems—basically employing the same Psionic distortion principles the Norkel used instinctively.
As for the beast itself, it was clearly heavily injured. Each time it smashed one of its massive tentacles against the energy barrier, hundreds of liters of purple blood sprayed out into the vacuum, forming grotesque frozen clouds that drifted lazily through space. The creature's movements were becoming increasingly erratic and desperate. It was dying—and it knew it.
But it was determined to take its tormentors with it.
"All hands to battle stations!" Orn's voice rang out across the bridge with crisp authority. "Man the guns and bring the railgun to full charge. Prepare to fire on my mark!" He paused briefly. "Communications, send a standard military hailing to the senator's fortress identifying us as an imperial vessel responding to their distress call."
Another pause as he made his tactical decision.
"Then concentrate all fire on the Black Sun stealth cruiser."
The soldier currently manning the weapons console—one of the interim civilian crew members who looked increasingly uncomfortable with the escalating situation—turned in his seat with visible confusion.
"Pardon me, Admiral, but... you said concentrate all fire on the Black Sun cruiser?" His voice carried genuine bewilderment. "What about the Norkel, sir? Surely that's the more immediate threat?"
It was an expected question. To anyone without combat experience or tactical training, the Norkel seemed like the larger and more pressing danger.
"The Norkel isn't going anywhere," Orn explained with patient clarity, though his tone brooked no argument. "Look at its crown—you can see the damage from here. The entire bioluminescent array that helps it generate and control Psionic energy for spatial manipulation and faster-than-light travel has been extensively destroyed."
He gestured toward the viewscreen. "It's stuck here, bleeding out, waiting to die. And it's single-mindedly attacking the individuals I'm absolutely certain are responsible for crippling it in the first place. That creature is no threat to us as long as we don't deliberately provoke it."
Orn's voice hardened. "On the other hand, that cruiser represents a team of highly trained assassins who can maneuver freely. They can hit us from the rear or flank if we waste time focusing on the Norkel. Worse—worst-case scenario—we allow a team of Theocracy black-ops assassins to escape from deep within the Inner Rim."
He let that implication hang in the air for a moment. "If that happens, we would all be arrested and executed for criminal incompetence before the week is out. Possibly sooner, given whose orders we're operating under."
Orn's tone became sharp and final. "Now stop questioning my tactical decisions and fire!"
The Honest Star lurched forward with sudden violence as its primary railgun system came fully online and began firing. The ship didn't mount traditional heavy cannons designed for single devastating volleys, but the rotary railgun configuration more than compensated through sheer sustained firepower—launching hypervelocity projectiles every two seconds with mechanical precision.
The hull of the enemy stealth cruiser lit up with an eerie blackish glow as the shields absorbed the kinetic impacts, energy discharge patterns spreading across the barrier like cracks forming in dark ice.
"Enemy shields holding at ninety-four percent effectiveness," the weapons officer reported, his voice tight with concentration.
Orn did rapid mental calculations based on the two shots that had already impacted the cruiser's defensive screens. Their shields were considerably stronger than he'd initially expected. The cruiser was significantly smaller than The Honest Star, and he'd been hoping to disable or destroy it with just a few shots from their opening salvo.
Clearly, that wasn't going to happen.
"Concentrate fire specifically on their engine housing and power distribution nodes," Orn commanded. "I want that ship crippled or destroyed within the next five minutes. Maximum sustained fire."
"Enemy launching ballistic countermeasures—incoming, Admiral!"
"Engage ballistic defense! Get those turrets working!" Orn's hands gripped the armrests of his chair. "And where the hell are my missiles? I ordered a salvo on that cruiser ten minutes ago!"
He continued issuing rapid-fire commands. "Helm, evasive maneuvers but maintain weapons range. Circle around them, but keep your distance from the Norkel—we absolutely do not want to draw its attention away from the fortress. Try to position us so we can flank the cruiser."
Orn's tactical mind was racing. "From what I can observe, I doubt there are more than four or five personnel actually aboard that ship. The rest of the assassination team will be inside the fortress already. If we can flank them and keep the cruiser caught between us and the Norkel..."
The ship shook violently, jolting Orn forward in his seat hard enough that his restraints engaged. He turned to his left with an expression of pure annoyance hidden behind his mask.
"What was that?"
"Heat-seeking missile just impacted one of our secondary engines, sir!" came the reply from damage control. "Superficial damage to the housing, but the enemies are definitely shooting back!"
Orn raised an eyebrow. He glanced at one of the interim crew members—he genuinely had no idea what this particular person's actual role was supposed to be on the ship, but he answered anyway.
"We shot at them first. Did you somehow expect them not to shoot back?" His tone was dry. "Where are my shields? Why aren't our defenses at full power?"
Even as he asked, Orn's enhanced perception noticed something critical. The enemy cruiser was moving with sudden urgency, its engines flaring to full power. They were trying to run.
"Fire all weapons!" Orn commanded. "Pilot, full speed ahead! Those bastards are trying to escape!"
He turned his head slightly. "Major Hera, prepare the boarding team for immediate deployment. That fortress's shield won't allow anything larger than a human body to pass through—it's designed that way to prevent boarding by ship. As soon as we've neutralized the cruiser, we'll have an extremely narrow window to locate the senator and the remaining assassins inside."
His voice took on a grimmer tone. "We're going in there to confirm all kills as ordered, then locate the fortress control center and disable that energy shield. Once it's down, we let the Norkel have what it wants—revenge. Then we take the creature out from behind while it's distracted."
A pause. "Anyone still alive inside that fortress by the time the shield drops will be dead within seconds anyway. Norkel tentacles don't leave survivors."
Orn turned to Hera directly. "Go brief the team. We move out in ten minutes. I want that enemy cruiser reduced to debris in three."