Commander Valis and his forces, including the elite Guardians, Valorians, and Oxornian soldiers, arrived in orbit above Mattis-09, a desolate, barren world with a formless surface stretching endlessly below. He had opted to bring no carriers but had equipped his fleet with two destroyers and three auxiliary vessels, ready for anything that might arise.

"Commander," an officer reported, "we’re approaching the marked location. Radar’s picking up additional signals—two fleets converging from different directions."

Valis narrowed his gaze, watching as the radar confirmed their position was becoming a three-way standoff between Oxorn, the Merisse Nation, and the Soren Theocracy.

"So, they did come," Valis murmured. "Guess the beacon wasn’t subtle."

Silence filled the bridge as the three fleets drew closer, each seemingly poised yet unwilling to make the first move. Merisse and Soren were no allies to Oxorn; rather, they were uneasy neighbors, bound by fragile oaths to avoid hostilities during peacetime. Yet each side now eyed the others with an evident wariness.

"Commander," an officer said, "both Merisse and Soren are requesting communication."

Valis’s eyes shifted to the screen as the call connected. The first face to appear was that of Vicar Mosse, a leading figure of the Soren Theocracy’s 4th Company. Middle-aged, with a dark expression and dressed in flowing white robes accentuated by a black vestment sash bearing red halos, Mosse looked every bit the austere and zealous leader his reputation suggested.

"Commander Valis," Mosse greeted, his voice thick with a patronizing tone. "What a… surprise to see you here. And armed, no less—one might almost think you anticipated a fight."

Valis restrained himself, but the sarcasm wasn’t lost on him. Before he could respond, Mosse continued, a thin smile gracing his lips. "We saw the sign. A guiding light from the stars themselves. The Lord has shown us the path to a blessing that will bear fruit for Soren’s future."

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

"‘Blessing,’ you say?" Valis replied with a hint of exasperation. "And did it cross your mind that you may be rushing in blind? We have no clear context of what lies below. Are we all so eager to play fools to a light in the sky?"

Before Mosse could retort, the connection split again, revealing Captain Mika of the Merisse Nation. Mika’s tone was sharper, his impatience evident. "Valis, if you’re here, then you’re just as aware as we are. Whatever's down there, it’s valuable. The beam originated from your territory, so don’t act as though we’re trespassing. It’s nothing personal, but if securing it strengthens Merisse’s hand, then it’s our right to be here."

Valis’s jaw tightened, but Mika pressed on. "We don’t have to like it, but we all understand what’s at stake. And if that means each of us risks forces to reach it first, then so be it."

Tension hung in the air. Valis glanced back to his officers, weighing his options. He had no desire for open conflict, but if the prize below was as significant as they all believed, holding back wasn’t an option.

Mosse, clearly enjoying the tension, interlocked his fingers, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Perhaps we’re overthinking this," he proposed. "Rather than firing upon one another in a fruitless standoff, why not make this a race?"

"A race?" Valis scoffed, irritation flashing across his face. "You mean to propose a… ‘team battle royale,’ on an expedition?"

Mosse nodded, unfazed. "Precisely. We each deploy our best units—let them prove themselves. First to reach and secure the objective takes it. Of course, there will be… freedom to engage with one another, within reason." He grinned, barely concealing his enjoyment at the thought.

Captain Mika tilted his head, intrigued but cautious. "So, you’re suggesting we send in our specialized teams to ‘compete’—and if they happen to engage in combat along the way… well, that’s their prerogative?"

Valis considered this carefully. "It’s unconventional," he admitted, "but it may allow us to avoid an all-out firefight here and now." After a pause, he added, "But understand: none of us will act against the other’s main fleet unless provoked. Our treaty remains in effect, until or unless one of you chooses to break it."

With a nod, Mika replied, "Agreed." Mosse merely smiled, clearly pleased with himself.

The terms settled, Valis piped the message through the fleet, broadcasting the arrangement to Oxorn’s forces. His team would hold the line in orbit while the chosen strike teams descended to Mattis-09. The selected Guardians and Valorians moved quickly, boarding their ejection pods with an air of steely determination. The pods’ onboard systems issued quick safety briefings as each soldier adjusted their gear and prepared themselves.

A countdown flashed inside the pods, each beat intensifying the tension. Five. Four. Three…

With a sudden lurch, the pods launched, ejecting in coordinated succession toward Mattis-09’s barren surface. Descending quickly, the Valorians and Guardians kept their attention on the brief readouts flickering inside their helmets, aware that teams from Merisse and Soren were also closing in on the same destination.

Commander Valis watched on the radar as the teams plummeted to the surface. His expression was stern, his eyes narrowed as he tracked the paths of the pods. This race, he thought, may be as much a trial of survival as a mission.

He tightened his grip on the console, silently willing his team onward, knowing that whatever awaited them on Mattis-09 was just the beginning.