Torlak rode in the shuttle with a squad of the ‘Gander’s Fist’ shortly after his depressing visit to his hometown. He had doubts, but the note left over from his wife was authentic. Even if he tried to look for the slightest hint that she may have inserted one of their hidden codes of distress, he found there to be none.

It was something they had made before during his time as a Chief-Commander. It was a rocky relationship at first when piracy was rampant with splinter Union forces separated from their fleeing main force all those years ago. It was common for higher commanding officials to have their families targeted for ransom, or they would simply execute them. It was a tumultuous era for the Sellian Empire, but it finally died down some ten-odd years ago, and they were finally able to relax.

The men in the shuttle compartment were quiet, adding to their stoic exterior of their hidden faces and amber visors. Their armor was brown and gray over a black under suit.

Torlak knew of these groups that acted independently of standard ground forces, much like Brallo’s band of brothers. Each group was usually employed, or in service, to a high-ranking officer in addition to their standard ground troops. They also liked to give names for their groups, giving their standard armor a major color overhaul simply to set them apart from other commando units.

As he knew them, Gander’s Fist was under service of Orlin, a chief-commander in charge of the large orbital defense platforms around the planet, and most notably, the station that was in geosynchronous orbit of Artray, the capital city. The group is notorious as being known for boarding parties in their hay-day but have now been reduced to security and the occasional cargo inspection. If they were being utilized now, then they were probably in high spirits to actually do something.

He confirmed this when a group near him started a conversation in lowered tones but were poor in its execution, so he heard all of it. Whether he wanted to or not.

“Hey, you think it’s true? Did they really breach Beladir and Dorn?”

“Apparently,” the one across from the other replied, “Rumor has it, their fleet isn’t that big. I heard it from a couple of my comrades over in comms. They’ve got big guns, but that’s it. The pilots said they got a plan for ‘em.”

The inquirer was surprised at his comrade’s seemingly limitless network chain, “How do you know all these people? You sound like you have connections everywhere,” His friend scoffed.

“Of course I do! I’m telling you, you gotta hit the bars with me next time.”

“Yea, yea, next time,” they then returned to topics unappealing to Torlak, ending his need to eavesdrop.

He wanted to reprimand who was blabbering about intel like that, but he felt that to be the least of his priorities. Regarding enemy ships compared to their planet defense fleet. It was the largest ever conjured since their war with the Union. They held the advantage with a ratio of five-to-one. Three-hundred and eighty capital sized ships, with thousands of fighters. It was a sight to bear witness.

Of course, the Sellia Defense Fleet, as they dubbed it, is a mass collection of fleets from as low as a newly appointed War Chief up to a Chief-Commander. Their collective fleets that answered the call were probably aching for a fight, since many here were relegated to single systems to protect against a stray Union owned ship or two. Needless to say, he could tell they were eager for a fight, and that made him proud.

Since their first encounter, Torlak pushed heavily with updates to ship offense and defense. They had the shipyards and overwhelming manpower to do so. It was only a couple of months since then, but it was enough to outfit most newer models with updated shields and weapons. The same couldn’t be said for the older, smaller ships, so he could only pray to the Father’s for their survival.

Their shuttle rocked after a few minutes when they had reached the middle and higher atmospheres. Once they were clear, the shuttle smoothed out, and it prepared a short-distance jump to their destination, one of the super stations that orbited above Artray. He was told that he was going to be sent to his ship, but last minute, was redirected to meet with Orlin.

‘What could he possibly want?’ Torlak thought to himself.

Orlin was a longtime friend of Torlak. They had entered the service together during the height of the Sellian-Union war, which was how they were able to rapidly gain rank over the years following their initial commission as newly minted War Chiefs.

Torlak looked upon the memory was sincerity, wondering how much he had left behind since then. This would act as a good change of pace for him, amidst the present threat.

When the shuttle began its landing procedure, he noticed his ship docked with the large station, as was the same for many ships part of his fleet. His ship paled in comparison, adding to its grandeur. And there are three of them!

It was greater than the many ships they had produced. These were a feat of engineering made him proud, as they were also the only defensive structures on the planet besides the orbiting fleets.

As they approached the station, the shuttle rocked as the ship’s automated landing sequence initiated, causing his limited stomach contents to shift. The same could be said with some of his fellow passengers as they tried their best to cope with their oncoming nausea. Some even preparing their helmets to be makeshift buckets. He wanted off before they have the chance to use them.

With a sudden halt of movement, the doors to the shuttle opened with a hiss of the working electronics. He stepped off and found himself in a large hanger, filled to the brim with activity.

There were innumerable amounts of ships fixed on a designated claw with a catwalk extending to the cockpit from the walkway that met with the wall. It was like a wall of ships suspended in the air, ready to depart instantly. The claw that attached itself to a ship was also connected to an emergency exit rail that would launch prepped fighters into the fight.

Each hanger was isolated into their own spaces with tens of fighters in each, and he could see the numerous crew working about, either on the craft themselves, or on the functions of the station. He wouldn’t want essential systems to fail when the moment counted.

After ogling at the hangar he had seen many times before, he continued towards Orlin with a select few from Gander’s Fist escorting him. They didn’t speak, but that served him just fine as they walked the endless corridors of the station. They would strafe past some of the many foods shops, including clothing and department stores.

Closer to the center of the station, the open space doubled, mimicking some of the central courtyards in the major cities. Plants, running water, light similar to the sun, even some birds and rodents had made their home in this artificial biome.

He never got tired of the sight. But without wasting time, he and his escorts continued beyond the park-like zone of the station and into a service elevator reserved for security and workers. Who, based on their clearance, can only access certain levels of the station they were screened to enter.

They rode the elevator before coming to a stop. When the doors opened, they exited and Torlak was met with the dim lighting of the wide corridors. Unlike the area from before, where laughs, and conversation filled the air with the bright light, the area before him was dimly lit and most only spoke in quiet tones. There were fewer people and troopers from Gander’s Fist were seen patrolling the halls. It was the operations wing which was also connected to the diplomatic wing. Individuals of high importance could be seen walking to and fro, their minds filled with only the next task.

After some walking, which Torlak seemed to be doing plenty of, they finally arrived at the command center of the station. Plenty of guards were present before the doors, which offered space extending from it to house chairs and tables. A mobile food stand was also able to integrate among the group as countless servings were provided.

As they approached, the group by the door took notice. At first, they only acknowledged those of the same troupe. As he got closer, their expressions changed upon viewing Torlak’s white and black outfit, with four markings on his arms that ran along the majority of the sleeve.

“Good morning, Chief-General!” the first to notice announced, as they promptly corrected their posture to that of attention.

“Good morning, Warriors!” Torlak replied in kind.

Many of their helmets were removed, and he could see their expressions brighten at his acknowledgment. Clearly, this was the first time they had seen the Chief-General in person.

As they made their way past the troopers, the main doors at the center opened when a guard pressed a button and slid an access key against a blank tablet. The words ‘ACCESS GRANTED’ were labeled on the tablet and the doors slid open, revealing the dim, but lively interior.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

Only two out of the eight that accompanied him here walked in with Torlak. The walked up a small set of stairs to a landing with several chairs looking down toward rows of consoles and screens that lit up brightly. At the forefront of the room was a large screen, flanked by smaller, yet still sizable monitors; each providing necessary data of not just the planet, but the entire system.

Torlak was then led to the center portion of the landing where an aged Sellan spoke with one of the younger officers. He had arrived amidst their conversation.

“… destroyed. Beladir was home to a vital scientific program. Pair that with the loss of Dorn, well, I’m sure you can understand my frustration?” spoke the aged sellan.

“Of course, Chief-Commander. They should be approaching the Teela Belt relatively soon,” the young chief reported.

“Send word to nearby scouts to scour the belt. If they have to shut off systems to surveil the targets, then so be it. We need to know when and where they will strike from.”

The officer nodded and returned to their station below. Torlak would use this window to approach his friend.

“Torkla!”

“It’s Torlak, Orlin,” he replied, with mild frustration.

“Don’t be that way! You used to love it when we called you that!” Orlin replied with a hearty laugh.

“I didn’t have a choice,” Torlak grumbled, adding fuel to Orlin’s laugh.

Orlin then directed Torlak to an open seat beside him, which he took, and the guards from previous retired to the sides of the room, closest to the top of the stairs. For a moment, Orlin and Torlak were by themselves. The air grew heavy, as Torlak foresaw a change in tone from his longtime friend. Then they spoke.

“What do you think of the enemy, Tor?” He slumped in his chair in response, staring at the large central screen at the front of the room.

“Terrifying,” he muttered, “Not something to take lightly. Should you, it’ll mean your death.”

“That’s only their military, no?” Torlak shook his head briefly, not completely denying the military capability.

“True, for the most part. We’ve come in contact with what we initially thought to be their main military force. Oh, how we were wrong.”

“How so?” Torlak began recounting their initial encounters of their first and only two systems of conquest.

“The first system, with Demira and Anmira, were light and had a minimal footprint of combative forces. Plenty of civilians, but a lackluster infantry force. It was easy and probably our quickest conquest to date.”

Torlak explained, “The second system, however, was different,” he gauged his friend’s reaction and continued when no reply was given.

“For us, it was an unnamed planet, but through the records taken of the planet, the Terrans have named it ‘Draxis’. It was perhaps my greatest failure, but, that was where we encountered our true enemy.”

Orlin leaned on his seat, focused on Torlak, “Was the enemy on the surface? Their armies?”

Torlak shook his head, “No. There was a force on the planet, but they were largely disorganized. We had the upper hand, but that was dismissed when we struck against a certain facility. Our force wasn’t large at the time, so the enemy was able to take the entrance, fiercely defending it to the last man.”

“Quite the fight, I suspect,” said Orlin.

“It was. Brallo was the one to retake the facility. Remember him?” Torlak questioned.

“I do. Tall lad. I was present during his burial,” reminisced Orlin.

“Well, he broke through and brought with him information on the enemy. Their name, technology, culture. Most of it, anyway. We still don’t know where they live, but if we can take out this reaction fleet, then perhaps I can retake the reigns of my campaign against them.”

Orlin patted Torlak on the back in response.

“That’s the spirit! Now, on a separate, more concerning note,” her turned and directed Torlak’s attention toward the main screen.

It had the likeness of their system with the planets in their respective color, with the asteroid belts painted in a transparent gray-white. Several red dots dotted locations surrounding Beladir and Dorn. Out of all the ship’s he’s commanded, none had the number of sensors and scanners he is now witnessing. Granted, they weren’t as precise as he would like them to be, but they still did a phenomenal job of being able to scan throughout the whole system with a small error of margin.

“Quite the sight, wouldn’t you agree?” Torlak acknowledged the comment by Orlin.

“To think we had this technology aboard the stations…” Torlak was in awe. This was the first time he was behind the doors to the command center of a super station.

“The scanners employed are nearly a decade old, but they’re the latest. My station is the only one equipped with them,” boasted Orlin.

“A decade? How was I not made aware of our defensive capabilities? You’d think they would have told the Chief-General of the Sellian Armed Forces!”

His displeasure was apparent. By right, those chosen by the War Council to lead all forces available into combat would normally be informed of all technological achievements that could be utilized in battle for maximum tactical advantage. At least he was being informed now, he thought.

“Don’t make that face, Tor. Look,” he pressed a button from his command desk and the image of the red dots were enlarged, revealing the numerous ships of the enemy fleets greater than a corvette.

“We’re still fine-tuning it at longer distances, so ships of frigate class and lower sometimes don't register if their output is at minimum. However, when they gather in proximity,” He showed the image surrounding a lone large dot. It began to separate into smaller indicators of individual ships.

“When too many ships gather in an area, we’re able to identify most of the ships in a cluster. It’s most effective in open space than in a densely populated region of debris.”

Torlak was impressed. This technology was much more precise than his own ships which were much more limited in capability. Should he live through this, it was something he would advocate for the newer line of ships.

“What do you do when they disappear? I would assume that they’re either jumping or, by your description, they would get lost in the asteroid belts.”

Orlin nodded in satisfaction.

“That’s exactly right!” he replied, “Once their indicators disappear, we can most likely assume they’re headed into the Teela Belt. When they first entered the system, they were revealed once they entered the influence of Beladir and laid waste to the defense fleet. Should they disappear now, they will either be in the Teela belt or exit just beyond it.”

Again, Torlak was nothing but impressed. As he analyzed the view, Orlin beckoned him with a question concerning his next move.

“So, Tor, where do you plan to command the battle?” His tone was stern and empirical, indicating an obvious answer that sat right before him.

He could command from his carrier as he did during his initial invasion of the Terran colonies, but in their current predicament, there was really only one answer. That answer had the highest grade of sensors, scanners, communications, shields, and defensive weaponry. The answer was obvious.

“Are you willing to step down, Orlin? As my second?” inquired Torlak.

The man in question arose from his seat and turned his body towards him, executing a Sellian salute, crossing his right arm across his chest with their fingers contacting his left shoulder. It was crisp, and quick. A by-the-book salute. The room quieted, and an officer ordered those present to come to attention, then Orlin spoke.

“As Chief-Commander of Selloria Station, I hereby relieve all tactical command to Chief-General Torlak, as authorized by his title granted by the War Council and blessed by The Fathers. May his wisdom bring us victory!”

A round of cheers sounded in the room and Orlin relieved his seat, fit for the commander of the station, and the new station commander sat upon it. Torlak took a moment upon his new seat, taking a moment of his responsibilities. It was only natural for the general to take his place in a heavily defended fortress of a station while still on the front lines. Even without his crew from his ship, he still felt at home.

Torlak then turned to Orlin on the status of their total forces, “Do we have word on when we can get reinforcements? I’m planning to send a sizable fleet to scour the belt.”

“We have several fleets from between us and the Union border. They should be supplying us with some ships, along with the newly produced ships. They should be here in a couple of hours.”

Torlak nodded at the report. His fleet was growing at an exponential rate, and soon they might have enough ships to block the sun if they so wanted to.

“Very well. We should send a detachment to the Teela belt. My old fleet should suffice.”

Orlin bowed and began issuing orders to the carrier group. The total ships from the group was a fraction of the forces he took with him initially, but it would suffice to act as a probe against the enemy.

He reviewed the capabilities of the station once more, noting the advantages and disadvantages, of which he found very little pertaining to the latter.

This was his moment to strike back and regain what he had lost. From what he remembered during his final encounter with the Terrans in his stealth ships, they were roughly the same sized fleet as before, save for the additional six Sellian ships that accompanied the enemy. They would be priority. To die a traitor's death in a show of authority to the other who might have done the same. He would not be caught off guard again.

Torlak ordered a web of their ships around the surrounding stations and increased fighter patrols. Ensuring a rapid response to wherever the enemy may appear. A small force of his former fleet had departed for the Teela Belt at the predicted coordinates of the enemy trajectory.

‘They’ll be wasting time trying to go around,’ he thought to himself.

In orbit of Sellia, the three stations were equidistant from each other and with a quick jump, ships could some from one station to another in mere seconds. He had faith in their ever-growing army. He had just wished he started with this size of an armada in the beginning, and maybe they wouldn’t be on the defensive, but it was too late to think about that now.

He would command Orlin and any other lower ranked chief to have all ships prepped for combat. And as fate would have it, he was notified from one below of the indicators over the gas giants. They were gone.

Soon, their fight over the stars would begin.