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POV of Kurt
Our military mobilization had already begun, and by then the entire fleet was moving toward the point where we would stage the ambush. We had chosen a route with a very low probability of detection, but when you move two hundred warships at the same time, the risk is never zero. Even in a region where most nearby worlds barely possessed functioning technology, all it would take was a single mistake—an ancient satellite still sputtering in low orbit, or an off-course merchant vessel—for everything to fall apart.
Hendrik insisted we would remain undetected… but I couldn't take that for granted.
Our movements had been fast and disciplined. We did not orbit worlds. We avoided stations entirely. We did not use commercial lanes. We jumped, recalculated in deep space, and jumped again. Over and over. It was the only way to approach the tithe fleet's projected route without leaving a recognizable pattern.
Everything we had invested—every sacrifice, every engineering breakthrough, every layer of military infrastructure we had built over the last fifteen years—was staked on this one operation. If we failed, even by the smallest margin, we would lose more than the fleet.
We would lose our chance to exist.
Our attack had to be flawless. Fast. Surgical. We could not allow a single record data, or leave behind even a residual signal. Not one bit of information could be allowed to survive.
That was the impossible part.
"I need to review the intel again," I said, in a tone tighter than I intended, as I brought up another set of holo-projections for the assembled cruiser captains.
They all watched me as if expecting me to solve a mathematical paradox in real time.
"According to our reports," I continued, enlarging the tactical models, "the tithe fleet consists of roughly one hundred transport ships. They match the scale of our refitted carrier—slow, heavily shielded, extremely bulky. They're escorted by around ninety military vessels."
The projections shifted into formation patterns typical for Imperial convoys.
Hendrik's voice played through the tactical feed"The Imperium does not fight at long range despite their armament; they prefer extremely close engagements where they can fire torpedoes or volley their broadside cannons. It is even plausible they will attempt ramming maneuvers. Considering that we will engage under surprise conditions, we should be able to annihilate their smaller vessels during the first contact…"
I studied the tactical table as the engagement geometry unfolded in front of us.
Another officer approached."My lord Admiral, additional intel from our agents in the region," he said while uploading new data into my console.
"We now have estimated firepower values and designations for the Imperial vessels. According to the report: nine Dauntless-class light cruisers, thirty Sword-class frigates, fifty Cobra-class corvettes, and one Avenger-class heavy cruiser. That is all our operatives could confirm, my lord."
"Add it to the simulator. Display it." I ordered.
Within seconds, the holo-map filled with 3D models of the Imperial vessels arranged in their most probable convoy configuration.
"The corvettes… they're small, my lord," one captain muttered, observing the swarm of lighter craft.
"Compared to our current Minotaur-class cruisers…" another captain said, "they're half the size. It's likely the Yamato will cleave them in a single hit, now that our battleships produce eight times the energy of earlier prototypes."
He projected stress calculations comparing the Yamato's output to estimated adamantium thickness on Imperial hulls.
I listened while another officer frowned at the largest red icon on the map.
"That heavy cruiser concerns me. We've got twenty Gorgons ready to absorb whatever punishment it can deal, but look at this—" He highlighted the Avenger's side profile. "Hundreds of broadside cannons. Exactly what I suspected: we must avoid letting any Imperial vessel take position along our flanks. A minotaur caught broadside could be torn apart before its shields regenerate."
"A Gorgon can withstand it," I replied. "Their armor can endure macrocannon fire long enough to prevent structural failure." I shifted the display toward the White Star. "But prudence suggests we use the White Star. Its Yamato Cannon should cause catastrophic damage to any heavy cruiser in a single strike."
The sheer difference in scale between our ship and the Imperial fleet was unmistakable.
"And the transports? Are they not a threat?" another captain asked, focusing on what we were all quietly ignoring.
"Resource transports," another answered. "A few macrocannons at most. I doubt they could breach even the weakest shields in our formation. Hitting their engines would be enough to stop them from escaping."
I shook my head."We can't do that. Our objective is to capture as many ships as possible. We need their hulls, their cargo space, their reactors—especially their engines. If we damage their drives, they're useless to us. We intend to replace their warp engines with our own systems so we can reuse them on the way back to Dominion space."
A quiet tension settled over the group.
"But if they escape, my lord…" one captain insisted.
"It doesn't matter if one escapes, or two, or most," I replied firmly. "What matters is eliminating all risk of identification. If any escape, better they mistake us for pirates or rogue elements. After the battle, assuming victory, we will perform a clean sweep. No wreckage, no data core, no signature left behind. This region is technologically weak—they will have no way of contesting our cleanup."
Silence. Heavy. Loaded with the understanding of what we were about to risk.
"When we arrive," I continued, "all Yamato cannons must be charged to maximum. After firing, divert everything to shields. As soon as we exit the jump, open fire on every Imperial contact in range. Our priority is absolute confusion in the first seconds."
I touched the projection of the White Star again.
"The White Star will target the heavy cruiser leading their command structure. If we disable it, we decapitate their coordination. Blind them, and the rest collapses into chaos."
Everyone nodded.
Over the following days, as we traveled through the void with maximum stealth, wave after wave of simulations arrived at my terminal.
Every single one—even under pessimistic assumptions—gave us victory.
Equalized armor. Equalized firepower. Early detection by the Imperials. Distorted outcomes. Simulated malfunctions.
We still won.
Sometimes decisively....Sometimes narrowly....But always.
I couldn't shake the unease.
It was the same hollow weight I used to feel during Dominion campaigns—right before we attempted something impossible. The difference was that back then, failure meant losing a city or a star system.Now, failure meant losing everything.
I had only one shot. One perfect strike against the Imperium.If I ruined it, the Dominion was finished.
"Admiral, we have visual confirmation from our operatives. The tithe fleet is in orbit, extracting soldiers as part of conscription. Large portions of the local population are being taken for forced recruitment," reported one of the comms officers.
I opened my watch and watched the hands crawl forward painfully slow.
"Prepare for jump. Input the coordinates exactly as rehearsed. Reserve power for an emergency tactical jump. You have time to charge the Yamato," I said over the fleet-wide channel, coordinating the jump sequence for two hundred battlecruisers.
When the hand reached the exact minute mark, I gave the order.
Space warped around the fleet. A white pulse enveloped the ships. Two hundred giants dissolved into non-existence and vanished into the jump point as if torn out of the galaxy's fabric.
Four minutes and twenty-three seconds.That was the estimated re-entry time.
I tightened my grip around the watch.
For reasons I couldn't explain, those minutes felt like an entire hour. Each tiny click of the internal mechanism thundered like artillery in my skull.
Three… two… one—
We tore out of warp.
Immediately the White Star fired its colossal Yamato Cannon.
The incandescent projectile leapt forward, striking a light frigate first—piercing it as if it were paper. The ship split cleanly in half before its reactor reached critical. The blast pushed the wreckage aside, but the Yamato's energy did not dissipate.
It continued.
It slammed through a corvette desperately trying to turn. The beam carved through it like a molten needle through ice. The remains vaporized.
The discharge still didn't stop.
When it finally struck the side of the heavy cruiser, the accumulated energy unleashed an explosion so violent that it ripped away the entire starboard section—armor, decks, weapon towers—reduced to a glowing cascade of molten metal.
Hundreds of Yamato Cannons fired across the fleet. They were not as powerful as the forty dedicated reactors of the White Star, but each retained a respectable fraction of its strength—and that was obvious on the battlefield. Seconds after the volleys erupted, our tactical map dropped from one hundred and ninety Imperial contacts down to barely one hundred and thirty. Massive debris fields scattered across the void while pockets of oxygen ignited in isolated flashes.
"All reactor power to forward shields! Concentrate all fire on any surviving light cruisers!" I ordered sharply.
The void filled instantly with missiles, torpedoes, hundreds of thousands of laser batteries firing, and macrocannon shells detonating around the remaining Imperial ships.
"Torpedoes inbound on collision course with the White Star, my lord!" one officer warned, highlighting a dozen approaching warheads.
"Have the Minotaur-class ships activate manual defense grids and launch Hellstorm countermeasures," I replied.
The White Star unleashed a storm of missiles that split into dozens of micro-explosive charges, hunting down each torpedo mid-flight. One by one, they disappeared from the tactical display.
"Torpedoes eliminated," the officer confirmed.
The exchange continued, but our shields were absorbing every blow the smaller Imperial ships could muster.
"Heavy cruiser maneuvering, my lord. It's turning to bring its batteries to bear," another officer warned. The tactical view showed the vessel still operational despite catastrophic damage to its right side.
"The Broken Crown reports destruction of one light cruiser and four corvettes in its sector, my lord," another added.
"Divert shield power. Charge the Yamato and prepare jump calculations. We're finishing that heavy cruiser once and for all," I ordered, keeping my eyes fixed on the tactical map.
Our forces were overwhelming the Imperial fleet. Several Minotaur cruisers executed tactical jumps to bypass the growing debris fields and the transports shielding what remained of the Imperial escorts, hammering them from the left flank. In short order, large segments of our formation blinked across the battlespace, repositioning to eliminate the last pockets of resistance.
"Jump calculations complete, milord. Safe to execute," an officer reported.
"Yamato at fifty percent charge," another called out.
"That's enough. Prepare for jump," I said, checking my watch once more. "Now."
We dipped into warp for barely three seconds—and emerged directly in front of the Imperial heavy cruiser, which was forcing its engines to turn while burning fuel at a frantic, wasteful rate.
We were scarcely a few kilometers from it when we fired the Yamato.The energy burst consumed the ship entirely—and this time, the beam sliced it cleanly in half.
I glanced at the tactical map: barely a hundred and ten Imperial ships remained, while our fleet retained full integrity. Several vessels had taken heavy macrocannon impacts, but none were in danger of falling out of the fight.
"Deploy strike bombers and disable weapons on the civilian ships without compromising their structure," I ordered, watching our victory solidify.
"If you don't hit the civilian transports hard enough, they'll try to enter warp and we'll lose them. We must prevent that—damage them just enough that they don't dare attempt the jump."Hendrik's voice resonated inside my head—telepathically.
I looked around instinctively before adjusting my orders.
"New directive. All secondary weapons—target the civilian transports."
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If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know.
Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.
I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.
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