Oliver watched as Admiral Orton walked away. Orton didn’t hurry. He moved with steady, controlled steps, like a man already planning his next move. Soon, the haze of hover traffic swallowed him. Street vendors shouted over the noise, selling glowing trinkets and hot, fusion-grilled skewers.
Oliver knew what would come next. The Republic would switch from polite words to force. Blockade fleets would slide in from the system’s edge.
They thought they understood Atlas Blackwall: his smooth, polished public image. But they didn’t know Oliver at all.
He and his team had studied every move of the Republic’s fights with the Empire. They studied battle replays and duels, then sent spies to both sides to identify patterns and predict the Republic’s next move. They turned that data into backup plans.
“He was judging me,” Talos remarked.
“Who wouldn’t?” Oliver said with a small, crooked smile. “In a place like this, where would you find a surfer?”
Talos tilted his head, his eyes flickering as though confused. Oliver wondered again if it was a hardware glitch in Talos’s neural core or a software quirk from when he was built. He’d thought about it before, but never tried to fix it. Changing him wasn’t an option. Talos had earned Oliver’s trust.
“Let’s head back,” Oliver said, lowering his voice as the admiral’s shuttle engines began to rumble far off, making the ground tremble. “They’ll start within hours—blockade ships testing our shields, maybe a fake orbital drop to see how we react.”
“Still, it fits our plans,” Talos said, watching Orton fade into the crowd.
“House Lot wasn’t our first choice for this first battle,” Oliver said as they headed toward the main square. “But it will work.” Around them, holo billboards blinked with local alerts. Small groups of people whispered about the “diplomatic” ship that had arrived, unaware of the blockade to come.
Oliver and Talos returned to Headquarters. Ever since they detected the incoming “diplomatic” ship, the halls had burst into motion. Off-duty operatives were pulled from their rest by blaring alarms. Now the place buzzed with activity.
When Oliver stepped inside, people looked up from their stations, eyes sharp with expectation. The failed talks meant a siege.
Oliver stood at the center of the communications chamber. The room was packed with glowing consoles and holographic displays. Around him, live feeds from orbital probes streamed across the screens.
“All stations, stand ready,” Oliver commanded. He and Talos positioned themselves shoulder to shoulder behind the Hermes.
The Hermes operatives sorted every fragment of intelligence. Probing signals from satellites, intercepting warp echoes from the system's outer rim—anything that could matter—they had a way to find and consume.
“They’re lifting from the hangar,” Hermes-1 announced. A central hologram bloomed into life, showing a three-dimensional image of the Dawn ascending. Its colossal hull vented plasma plumes.
“Good,” Oliver said, broadcasting across the linked comms network. “Hold fire, all hands. No preemptive strikes until they fire the first shot. We won't hand them the narrative twist. Let the locals see their aggression and deny them any chance of getting reinforcements from the other Great Houses.”
“Ship breaching atmo. They’re pulling away,” Hermes-1 updated. The hologram shifted to track the Dawn’s ascent, its form piercing the sky of Aquarius.
All eyes in the base were fixed on the holograms.
“Incoming transmission. It’s encrypted. Cracking,” Hermes-1 declared.
“Ladies and gentlemen…” The admiral's voice crackled through the speakers, distorted by lost fragments in the decryption. “Today's annexation talks with Aquarius ended in failure. Yet our mission continues.”
“The citizens of Aquarius have grown complacent in their peace, insulated from the Empire's shadow. We must show them the difference between those who merely survive on the borderlands and those who wage war against imperial tyranny.”
Oliver's pulse quickened; he anticipated the order.
“Transmit to the assault fleets. Effective immediately, blockade the Aquarius system.” Orton sealed the command.
“Perfect!” Oliver said as cheers rippled through the room. “Engage defense protocols. Arm the guns. Launch the drones. Start taking down any orbital satellites jamming our teleport grids. Shift to full defensive posture. Take them out of the sky.”
“Aye, sir,” the Hermes chorus answered as orders moved through the network. Cannon batteries whirred to life in concealed silos, swarms of interceptor drones launched from hidden bays, and shields flickered around key installations.
“Start broadcasts to the civilians. Relay the Republic's decree,” Oliver commanded. “Reinforce the tunnels, start shelter protocols. Bombardments aren't imminent, but keep everyone ready.”
The Hermes operatives moved between consoles, coordinating the city’s defenses. Aboveground turrets whirred to life from concealed silos; below, seismic dampeners engaged in the bunkers. Across the planet, encrypted alerts went out to remote colonies.
“Defense grid online. Cannons online. Drones launching. Orbital countermeasures active,” Hermes‑2 reported, his voice calm and clear. On the holo, interceptor drones shot from hidden bays like a swarm of metal hornets. Blue thrusters flared as they climbed into the sky.
“Enemy ships are completing their jumps,” Hermes‑3 said. “They’re appearing at the system’s edge and closing from all directions.” The display shifted to a tactical map. Republic destroyers and cruisers slid out of hyperspace and spread into formation, a wide net tightening around Aquarius.
“Diplomatic vessel deploying anti-teleport satellites,” Hermes‑4 reported. The display zoomed in on the Dawn’s underside as it released clusters of smooth, sphere‑shaped jammers. Within moments, the grid was locked down. No one would be teleporting in or out.
“All right, let's move,” Oliver said. “Get the pilots ready. Get fighters in the air and hit those satellites first. Keep them contained, but make them think we’re panicking. Desperation sells the trick.” Hangar bays opened across the planet. Squadrons of fast fighters roared up through the clouds, trails of ion glow behind them. Their cannons powered up as they hunted the jammers. “Prep the Mechas for contingencies. I want a full alert.”
“Mechas mobilizing. Daedalus reports Project Zeus is still incomplete,” Hermes‑2 warned.
“No problem,” Oliver said, hiding the knot in his stomach. “Get the other ones ready. I can pilot a secondary if needed.” In his mind, he ran through the backups.
“Mechas ready. Leviathans on standby,” Hermes‑2 reported. The holo shifted to show giant walkers waking in their bays.
“Sir,” Hermes‑1 cut in, voice tight. “Destroyers and cruisers inbound. They’re sealing every gap and locking the jump points. We’re surrounded; no hyperspace jump is possible. Full siege confirmed. Your orders?”
Oliver stood at the center of the comms chamber. His Hermes team leaned over their consoles.
“Any news from the diplomatic vessel?” Oliver asked.
“None,” Hermes-1 replied, fingers flying across haptic controls. The Dawn hung in low orbit, its hangar rings sealed and its engines idling in silence, a diplomatic vessel now enforcing a siege.
“Excellent,” Oliver said, turning to address the assembly. “Maintain surveillance on their comms. They seem content to choke us out under blockade for now, starving us without a shot fired.” He gestured to vulnerable flanks in the Republic's formation. “We'll turn their game against them. We'll start with small skirmishes. I want short, sharp jabs, no prolonged dogfights. Deploy corvettes in swarms. Use every modification that improves speed and maneuverability. Hit and fade.”
“We’ll hit their supply lines,” Oliver said, tracing paths on the holo. “Sooner or later, they’ll have to send ships out for reinforcements. We’ll strike in those moments. Short strikes timed to drain their supplies.”
“Sir, won’t that pull us away from the Orks?” Hermes‑12 asked. He was the newbie who was still learning the ropes, his visor showing both eagerness and doubt.
“It will, for now,” Oliver said. “First we break the siege. Then we return to the Orks. If we underestimate these guys, we will lose for sure.”
“Aye, sir,” the room answered together. The sound rolled through the comms as operatives sat up straighter.
Talos stood beside Oliver with his arms crossed, his bright floral shorts the one odd splash of color in the strict, military room.
“Initial fighters engaging satellites. Corvettes launching now,” Hermes‑2 reported. Fast interceptors climbed through the upper air, their lasers shredding the anti‑teleport jammers.
Oliver clapped once, a sharp crack that drew every eye. “Put the camera feeds up. Let’s turn up the pressure. Show them we’re not hiding.”