CHAPTER 46: MEL`NAR

Mel’Nar

Alliance Assault Fleet

Almorian Dreadnaught Fury

Sol System

‘Those disgusting... Things!’ MelNar thought to himself, his eyes narrowing in distaste as he surveyed the chaotic operations of the bridge. The diverse array of alien species that made up The Alliance always seemed to evoke a deep sense of revulsion in the Mordechai, but none more so than Muuktel himself. The self-proclaimed “King” of Almora was nothing more than an imposter, a usurper, a traitor to everything MelNar held dear. For months, he had ruminated on how this pig managed to gather enough support to overthrow his beloved Queen, and how he had done it without raising any alarms within the Mordechai security forces, even eluding the keen eyes of the spymasters. As the head of the Royal Guard and the Alliance Military, Mel`Nar had failed his Queen in the most profound way possible, and he had vowed to avenge her in any manner he could muster, his heart burning with the desire for retribution.

“My Liege, the attack is proceeding as planned. Our numbers are easily overwhelming the enemy dogs; our victory is within our grasp!” one of the tactical Mordechai reported, his voice brimming with excitement, a stark contrast to the tension that crackled throughout the bridge.

MelNar did not bother to acknowledge the report; he was acutely aware of the situation unfolding around him. Despite the humans’ peculiar technological advantage with their primitive weaponry, they simply lacked the numbers to sustain the battle. In contrast, the Alliance Military assets were virtually unlimited, a relentless tide ready to crash against their foes. His attention, however, was drawn to the blue-skinned traitor lounging on his ostentatious throne, sipping Xarx juice and munching on a Blump fruit, utterly oblivious to the battle raging around him. No, Mel`Nar was far too consumed with formulating plans and plots to eliminate the so-called King. Poison seemed to be the most viable option; the oddly emotional male Almorian appeared to revel in consuming a variety of foods and drinks, indulging in luxuries he had probably never tasted before since liberating himself from the shackles of slavery.

“Eighteen ships have just been lost, and twenty-five more are spooling up, preparing to enter the system. Estimated time of arrival is forty-five seconds,” reported one of the Vaikunthian operators, deftly maneuvering across multiple consoles with his six dexterous hands, each movement precise and intentional, a testament to the efficiency of his race.

Yet another report that the Military Leader chose to ignore, knowing full well that his soldiers were well-trained and capable of handling the situation on their own. This fight was already won; he felt it in his core, a simmering confidence that had always propelled him through the darkest of battles. However, one aspect puzzled him: two gigantic enemy ships that seemed impervious to their assault. These vessels were the largest structures he had ever encountered, dwarfing even ten Mordechaian Dreadnaughts, casting long shadows over the chaos of combat like ominous harbingers of doom. They appeared to possess enough power generation to maintain shields strong enough to withstand any barrage unleashed by the Alliance forces. “Sec-Fough, concentrate all firepower on that one super ship over there,” MelNar ordered, his voice cutting through the noise, directing all forces to unleash their fury upon the F.W.S. Centauri, one of the two remaining Juggernauts of the Federation. He had given the command, but something nagged at the back of his mind, a voice screaming at him: ‘You must leave. Come find me; your Queen needs you!’

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“Lithanul!” MelNar breathed, louder than he had intended, the name slipping past his lips like a ghost from his past. Several officers and technicians exchanged uneasy glances, unsure how to react to the mention of the usurped Queen, the weight of her absence palpable in the air.

Without uttering another word, Mel`Nar strode purposefully out of the command bridge, his mind racing as he was determined to reach the nearest hangar in search of one of the small hyperspace-capable fighters he could commandeer. Muuktel’s demise would have to wait; something else gnawed at his mind, “Do not concern yourself with the fake King; his fate is rapidly approaching.” This voice was unfamiliar to the Mordechai military leader, yet it resonated with a clarity that both intrigued and disturbed him. It spoke in perfect Galactic Basic, the unmistakable voice of a Terran. He allowed his mind to entertain the ancient enemy's words, but why? Every fiber of his being screamed for him to stay and confront the threat; the battle was nearly over, and with it, the war. This was the pivotal moment, the chance to eradicate the scourge that plagued the galaxy. So why did he feel the insistent pull to escape? His Queen was calling to him, yet a Terran was urging him to flee as well.

Mel`Nar's questions swiftly found answers as he exited the capital ship and initiated the jump sequence. The view around him warped and twisted as if the very fabric of space were bending to his will, forming what appeared to be a swirling wormhole nearby, a breathtaking sight that stirred both awe and trepidation within him. He recognized it instantly; this was the same technology the Legion employed to navigate the vastness of space. For years, the Alliance had attempted to capture Legion ships, yearning to unlock the secrets of these magical portals, but their efforts had always ended in failure, the elusive knowledge remaining just out of reach. The jump was imminent, coordinates locked in. He pressed the execute button, and the world around him transformed in a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations, a dizzying rush that engulfed him entirely. As he completed a successful jump to Terra, a haunting image replayed in his mind, looping endlessly. Just before he slipped through the tear in space and time, he had witnessed every other ship in the vicinity abruptly vanish, much like a standard hyperspace jump, their fates entwined in the tapestry of the cosmos. The Mordechai may have been safe in the heart of the Alliance’s territory, but he had just witnessed the entire fleet disappearing into the void of the unknown, leaving behind only echoes of destruction. “What the hell just happened?” was all the Military Leader could utter, his voice laced with confusion and disbelief, the enormity of the situation crashing down upon him like a tidal wave.