UGT: 7th Ruan 280 a.G.A. / 8:53 a.m.

  FSF Defiance, near Karesh-Ti, Karesh-Ti’Varn system(yellow dwarf), Inner-Noran sector, Ruidan Raider Association, Milky Way

  Admiral Thorrison stood rigid at the center of the FSF Defiance’s bridge, overlooking the Bridge of his flagship. The tactical screen shimmered before him, alive with movement. Association red swarming, SHF green dimming, the occasional neutral flicker vanishing into silence as ships were lost, burned down to nothing in the endless storm of fire.

  The situation had detoriated quite a bit since the beginning of the battle. Originally, they'd begun the engagement spread across a broad offensive arc, the only way to contest the Association’s numbers. Now the arc was curling in upon itself, edges bent back like battered armor plates. Two Destroyers had been gutted, their hulks drifting dark in the void. A Cruiser had gone silent after a reactor breach, torn open stem to stern, its dying beacon still flaring on the scopes. All their Frigates were crippled or venting atmosphere, their gun crews dead or scrambling in half-lit compartments.

  Admiral Thorrison forced himself to breathe evenly, eyes fixed on the whole, not the bleeding parts. Against all reason, all precedent, their line still held and he knew exactly why. The reason, of course, was the FSF Aurora. Without her, they would already be gone, nothing but charred wrecks around Karesh-Ti. He had seen enough battles to admit it to himself without shame. The monstrous ship unter Captain Lunaris' command had arrived like some phantom out of the void, hammering the Association where they were weakest, scattering formations that should have ground the SHF to powder. Multiple times, the FSF Aurora’s sudden reentries had bought the SHF fleet the time necessary to regroup, to breathe, and of course to survive.

  But even the FSF Aurora could not fight the whole battle alone. He glanced at the running tallies scrolling at the edge of the display. The Association still outnumbered them heavily, and though they had bled quite a bit this battle, they had not broken. Whoever now commanded them, and Admiral Thorrison suspected, from the unnatural precision of their maneuvers, that someone new had taken full control, was no fool. The days of chaotic Association blundering were apparently over.

  “Sir,” one of his officers said softly, breaking the silence. “The FSF Cruiser Valen Spire reports heavy damage. They can maintain position for another five minutes at most.”

  “Tell them that will suffice,” the Admiral replied, voice clipped. Every ship bought time. Every ship bought survival. Still, the truth coiled in the back of his mind like smoke: They were living on borrowed minutes, and there were not many left. He turned slightly, eyes sweeping the Bridge. His crew moved with practiced calm, but he read the tension in every posture, every clipped word. These were professionals, hardened by months of grinding war, yet even they knew how fragile their position was. Their eyes, when they thought he wasn’t watching, flicked often to the displays tracking the FSF Aurora.

  By now it was clear to everyone that the FSF Aurora slowly got overwhelmed as well. Deep in the Association formation and surrounded on all sides, Captain Lunaris was currently desperately pushing towards the SHF line, probably to meet up again before ordering a retreat. This battle was clearly lost. It was a miracle the FSF Aurora's shields still went strong, something no SHF shielding could have ever managed.

  The very thought saw Admiral Thorrison grind his teeth. He hated to abandon a battle, but he knew when he had to retreat. Still, that wouldn't stop him from having a long overdue talk with Captain Lunaris regarding the stupidity of her now failed plan. Maybe she really wasn't suited to be an actual Captain after all, and his earlier theories of her being to young and impulsive were right.

  “Admiral,” the Communications Officer said suddenly, voice taut but struggling to keep professional calm, “new report incoming… it’s the FSF Aurora.” Every conversation on the bridge stilled. Even the steady thrum of damage reports seemed to quiet as the Admiral lifted his gaze to look at his officer. “They’ve broken off the advance toward our line,” the officer continued, “They’re cutting deeper into the enemy formation. Target vector… a Battlecruiser grouping, sir. Likely the flagship.”

  Admiral Thorrison’s breath caught for half a heartbeat. So Lunaris wasn’t returning to them after all. She was reaching for their command structure. A risky gambit. But seemingly, Captain Lunaris had just led them along to her little show all along. She'd only needed time to identify the flagship. “Confirm the composition,” he ordered.

  “Enemy flagship, Battlecruiser class, supported by at least one Cruiser, three Destroyers, five Frigates, two Corvettes. Escorts are heavy, Admiral.”

  He studied the tactical screen again, jaw set. The decision was insane, suicidal, perhaps. But as the glowing icons on the tactical screen resolved themselves, the pattern was unmistakable. The Association’s movements had grown too clean, too disciplined, too ruthless. If Lunaris cut that node out of the weave, the whole could unravel again. And that just might change the course of the battle in their favor once again. Captain Lunaris was unwilling to accept anything less then victory, it seemed.

  "Fucking First Federation tactics, preaching their stupid 'no retreat' docrine," he muttered to himself, before raising his voice. “Keep your eyes on them. Relay targeting updates if possible. And bring all surviving Cruisers to angle fire lanes, if they create a gap, we’ll drive into it.”

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  The situation on the tactical screen began to shift. Around the Aurora, red icons reacted like a living organism, interceptors curling in, capital fire pivoting to rake her from every angle. Against any other ship, it would have been over before it began. But the Admiral had seen her fury firsthand, and as the first railgun bursts lit the void, he felt the bridge of the FSF Defiance leaning closer to their displays as though pulled by gravity.

  “Gods help her,” Thorrison murmured under his breath. After all, all their lives depended on her success. And then the FSF Aurora struck.

  The FSF Defiance’s bridge was silent but for the clipped rhythm of reports and the steady thrum of life-support systems. Every eye was drawn to the spectacle at the center of the tactical screen.

  The FSF Aurora tore through the outer screen with ruthless precision. Her Railguns roared, antimatter slugs ripping a Destroyer apart in a blossom of fire. Autocannons raked another, Dragonbreath rounds chewing through armor until it shuddered and went dark. A wall of Frigates tried to close formation, their guns lashing out, but Disintegrators answered, twin lances cleaving two ships in half, their severed hulks drifting like broken teeth.

  “Escorts dropping, but she’s bleeding for it!” the Lookout Officer called. He wasn’t wrong. The FSF Aurora’s shields flared with each impact, shimmering layers fracturing and reforming under the storm. Missile swarms peppered her flanks, beams struck home, and for every escort ship that fell, her barrier bled strength. She was carving her path forward, but every meter was bought with fire.

  Soon after, the core of the enemy formation revealed itself. The Association flagship surged into the gap, a massive, scarred silhouette, and it was not alone. Around it, a ring of surviving Destroyers and Frigates tightened, a living wall of guns and steel. Their weapons lit as one, and the void exploded with fire.

  The FSF Aurora fired back, her long-range batteries answering with brutal efficiency. Gauss rounds cored a Frigate outright; a Destroyer crumpled beneath a disintegrator beam. But the rest pressed on, coordinated, their volleys overlapping in disciplined sequence. Shields flickered. Autocannons blazed, trying to swat down swarms of incoming fire.

  Thorrison’s jaw tightened as the exchange intensified. This was no simple duel. The Battlecruiser, with its escorts in lockstep, was trading blows with the Aurora in a storm of energy that could have annihilated a dozen Cruisers outright. And though she struck harder, the Super Battleship could not ignore the price of wading through that wall.

  “Every living being in the system is watching this,” someone whispered on the bridge. They weren't wrong. Soon after, the duel reached its crescendo.

  The FSF Aurora pressed forward, battering another Destroyer into a drifting husk with a railgun broadside. Her Disintegrators slashed out again, cutting a Frigate clean in two. But the escorts pressed harder still, weaving into tighter formation around the Association's Battlecruiser. Their guns fired in merciless rhythm, every shot feeding into a storm that grew thicker by the second.

  On the FSF Defiance’s bridge, the tactical screen bloomed with hostile markers, their fire converging on one single point: the FSF Aurora.

  Then came the moment no one had quite believed possible, that was actually long overdue by now. The FSF Aurora’s shields, those unyielding layers of shimmering energy, flared one last time under the withering barrage, then shattered violently. The collapse rippled outward in a blaze of blinding light.

  “Shields are gone!” someone shouted, though no one on the bridge needed the confirmation. Raw hull met unrelenting fire. Explosions burst along her plating, geysers of fire venting into the void. Scorched compartments ruptured in chain reactions, armor plates shattering loose and tumbling away like discarded fragments of a broken blade.

  Across SHF channels, frantic reports flooded in: “Hull breach on multiple decks!” “She’s venting atmosphere, half the flank’s seemingly on fire!” “Superstructure damage catastrophic, catastrophic!”

  For a terrible heartbeat, the Aurora looked mortal. Admiral Thorrison’s jaw set, his voice cutting through the tension like steel. “Discipline on this bridge.” The whispers died instantly. Yet even as silence returned, dread hung heavy, inescapable. For that single heartbeat, it seemed as if everything was over. The FSF Aurora looked mortal, bleeding atmosphere, fire gouting into the void, her armor breaking apart piece by piece under the merciless hail. But she didn't falter.

  Engines flared white-hot, and the FSF Aurora hurled herself forward with brutal purpose. Where any other vessel would have broken and where evry Captain would have tried to retreat, Captain Lunaris and the FSF Aurora charged instead. The Gauss Cannons spoke first, antimatter rounds slamming into the Associations flagship with ruinous force. Whole slabs of armor tore free, vanishing into the void in molten ribbons. Destroyers tried to wheel across her path, desperate to shield their flagship. They barely lasted seconds. Autocannons thundered in incandescent salvos, chewing through their frames until they burst apart in showers of slag and dust. Frigates poured fire into her flanks, but Disintegrators scythed back, beams that didn’t just pierce, but erased, cleaving ships into halves that drifted lifeless in the FSF Aurora’s wake.

  Every step closer drew more blood from the FSF Aurora, more explosions along her scarred hull, more decks gutted by fire, yet still she advanced, inexorable, unstoppable. Then she was in among the escorts, her guns ripping at them point-blank, until nothing stood between her and the already heavily damaged flagship of the Association. Already, one could see life boats leaving the ship. Captain Lunaris knew no mercy.

  Disintegrators carved down the flagship’s already-wounded heart, lancing beams that sliced its frame apart from within. The Battlecruiser convulsed, venting light and fire from a thousand wounds, and then its reactor went. The explosion blossomed across the void like a newborn sun, a rolling chain of detonations ripping the flagship apart. Fragments spun outward, glowing wreckage slicing through the last escorts, scattering them like paper before a storm.

  Gasps rippled across the FSF Defiance’s bridge. For a moment, the entire battlespace seemed transfixed by the sight. Out of that inferno, the FSF Aurora emerged, scarred beyond recognition, atmosphere still trailing from open wounds, yet still standing.

  Admiral Thorrison’s hands tightened behind his back. They had bled, but they had not fallen. And with the Association flagship annihilated, the momentum of the battle might just shift again. Well, that would depend the state the FSF Aurora was in, he supposed.