Bradley stood in place, motionless.
He looked at Strauss's finger, still pointing at him, then at the twisted smile now hanging on that familiar face.
Then he shook his head slightly.
The movement was small—less a denial than an expression of utter helplessness.
He gave a bitter smile.
The smile spread from the corner of his mouth, tugging at the fine lines around his eyes, and finally dissolved into an almost inaudible sigh.
"And what about you, my Commander?"
His voice was soft, carrying a similarly self-mocking weariness.
"Before mounting the guillotine, will you first execute me—a traitor who has lurked for twenty years, guilty of the most heinous crimes?"
He paused.
"With the Imperial Navy's highest-standard firing squad? Or simply give me an escape pod without fuel and let me drift into the nearest black hole?
Or, like pirates of ancient times, toss me directly into the Star Sea!"
Strauss watched him.
Bradley also watched Strauss.
Two old soldiers who had worked together for years stood quietly facing each other across a distance of two meters.
Then Strauss slowly lowered his hand.
His smile receded somewhat, turning into a more complex, indescribable curve.
Bradley did not wait for his answer.
He turned slightly, his gaze passing over Strauss's shoulder to land on the massive viewport.
Outside was the eternally tranquil starry sky of the Opal Star Sector.
His voice regained the steadiness and certainty befitting a Chief of Staff, just as it had during the hundreds, even thousands, of battle analyses he had presented to Strauss over the years.
"My Commander."
He paused.
"Could you… stop thinking so highly of the Federation?"
Strauss raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Bradley continued, his pace unhurried, each word weighed as if on a scale.
"The Stargate."
He pointed to the tactical screen still glowing by the wall, where the Stargate icon hovered quietly at the center of the coordinates.
"Two full Imperial Joint Fleets are stationed there."
He paused, his voice steady:
"Marbas."
"Abaddon."
"A total of forty thousand combat starships of various types."
His gaze shifted from the Stargate icon back to Strauss's face.
That gaze was calm, certain, even carrying a trace of stubborn confidence that seemed out of place at this moment.
"Unless the Federation can evade our surveillance network, the Deep Space Monitoring Stations, and those useless bureaucrats at the Imperial Navy Intelligence Department…"
"Secretly assemble at least three Joint Fleets, over sixty thousand vessels, and slip silently into our heartland."
He shook his head gently.
"Otherwise."
He paused briefly.
"No one, no fleet, no weapon."
"Will so much as touch the Stargate."
Immediately afterward, Bradley continued.
"Commander, we still have the trump card provided by the Supreme Command Council."
He pulled up another section on the tactical screen and zoomed in.
"The Sequence Fleet—the Himiel Fleet."
Strauss's gaze fell on the cluster of light points.
"They passed through the Mock Star Gate twelve hours ago and have successfully arrived in the Bonn Star System."
Bradley's finger traced a green route across the screen.
"Between the Bonn Star System and the Bushman Star System, only three warps are needed."
"That's just one week."
He paused, emphasizing:
"One week from now, the Himiel Fleet can warp continuously from the Bonn Star System to the Bushman Star System."
Strauss stared at that green line.
It passed through four star systems, traversed nearly hundreds of thousands of light-years of void, and finally merged into the dense cluster of Imperial Fleet markers in the Bushman Star System.
He said nothing.
Bradley continued.
"Although the Abuja Stellar Ring has been severely damaged, with its docking zone destroyed, energy core compromised, and defensive forces completely wiped out..."
He pulled up another set of data.
"...Ring Master Wright has confirmed that the zero-point energy modules remain intact."
"The energy stored in those modules is sufficient to support the opening of a passage large enough for a Sequence Fleet to pass through."
He looked up at Strauss.
"Once is enough."
Strauss slowly turned around.
His gaze shifted from the green route to the shocking damage report of the Abuja Ring, then to the large red annotation at the top of the tactical screen.
Real-Time Projection of Frontline Force Comparison in the Ten Stone Starfield
Bradley's voice continued behind him.
"Once the Himiel Fleet joins the battle, the total scale of the Empire's fleets on the frontline of the Ten Stone Starfield will surpass that of the Federation."
He paused, his tone rising slightly.
"At that point, we will have sufficient forces..."
He reached out and drew a massive encirclement on the screen, encircling all four glaring red cursors.
"...to have the Erebus Fleet, the Ares Fleet, the Pandora Fleet..."
"...and the Himiel Fleet, which has just arrived at the front line."
His finger tapped heavily at the center of that encirclement.
There lay the marker for the Federation's Vault Fleet.
"Four Sequence Fleets, over 400,000 starships, advancing simultaneously from four directions."
His voice was not loud, but every word was clear.
"Together, they will besiege the Vault Fleet, trapped in the Shang Yu Star System."
He finished speaking.
The office fell silent.
Strauss stared at the screen.
At the green route.
At the four red arrows of encirclement about to close in.
At the words "Vault," isolated and helpless, encircled right in the center.
Suddenly, he felt as if the iron weight that had been pressing against his chest all day, so heavy it made it hard to breathe...
...had loosened slightly.
Just slightly, but it had indeed loosened.
He slowly exhaled.
That breath, as it left his chest, carried a tremor he himself hadn't noticed.
"...Bradley."
His voice was soft.
"Here."
Strauss did not turn around.
He was still staring at the screen, at the green line, at the four red arrows.
He remained silent for a long time.
Then he gently shook his head.
The movement was slight—less a denial and more an unconscious habitual gesture.
"You're right."
He paused before continuing.
"In terms of data, logic, projections..."
"...it all makes sense."
"As if this is the future that is bound to happen!"
Bradley said nothing.
He knew there was a "but" coming.
Strauss finally turned around.
The manic grin was gone from his face, as was that hollow calm.
Only a complex, weary expression remained, tinged with self-mockery.
He walked to the desk and looked down at the several Battle Reports he had already read countless times.
The Demon Claw Fleet annihilated.
The Abuja Ring attacked.
One after another.
Line after line.
All bad news, all unexpected bad news.