The first step of my plan is simple. Retreat. Slowly and surely, my forces move backwards. Letting Inannan take every kilometer without a fuss. I make sure to maneuver, push forward a bit every now and then. Make it look like I’m doing this because I have no other choice. Inanna probably knows I’m up to something. Just not what she is likely expecting.

  Eventually, I’m up against the wall. This scrap yard only had so much space that wasn’t a death trap to fly through. My Command Squadron is the farthest back and I’m less then a hundred kilometers away from being turned to scrap by a flurry of scrap. I’m little more than a trapped animal. Just where I want to be.

  “Task Force Gibson, time for Phase 2.”

  Inanna’s Bulwarks keep advancing. She have no idea what is coming next. Why would she? At first it would look like just more space scrap shifting aimlessly. That is, until the scrap starts getting too close. They found a really huge chunk for me. Looks modeled after an older Mega Dreadnought from ages past. Would be at least a Mark 9 if it was working. Will be a perfect wrecking ball.

  Your typical Tug ships are small, only around two hundred meters, and expected to carry ships fifty times its mass or more. Their tractor beams take up a large amount of space with the rest being engine room. They are slow ships on their own, only meant to drag vessels that can’t move for themselves in noncombat scenarios. What a lot of people forget is Tractor Beams can go both ways. With eight of them, even something that huge can be pushed around easily. It’s slow at first. Trying to gain as much ground as possible before Inanna notices.

  “Have Tower keep moving back. Make sure Crusader’s engines are primed and Howitzer is locked on. We only got one shot at this.”

  Every second the enemy at the gate gets closer. Fifty thousand kilometers. Forty-five. Forty. Almost ready.

  “As soon as they reach thirty thousand, enter Phase 3.”

  “Preparing Phase 3 in three, two… Sir, they’ve stopped. Thirty-two thousand kilometers.”

  I knew it was too good to be true. She’s caught on. The drone swarm is scrambling. Searching everywhere for my secret move. Won’t be long until they find it.

  “Order Tower to fire all remaining missiles. Full salvo. I want Jammers, EMPs, High Explosive, everything loud and sparkly in a wide spread.”

  Space becomes my own personal fireworks display. It’s downright patriotic. Scanners are completely overwhelmed by all the noise, noise, noise.

  “Phase 3 activate. Tell Gibson to put a little spin on it.”

  Eight Tugs push as hard as they can. A million tons of metal rapidly gaining momentum. Quickly out pacing the tugs themselves. With one last extra strong shove, the husk is released. Careening towards Inanna’s infernal Bulwark Battle Group.

  The dust settles just in time for them to see it coming. A twelve kilometer slab mere seconds away. Their guns fire, but they don’t have anything strong enough to make a difference. The Torpedoes of the rear Battle Group might have made an impact, if they had the chance to fire in time. And me, I get to lay back and watch the train derail and crash into an orphanage.

  There isn’t a huge boom. Only makes sense there wouldn’t be. It’s a giant hunk of inert metal. Instead the slab hits the Bulwarks, there is a small flash as the shield is finally taken down, and then the slab keeps going. Flying forever into the endless darkness till the end of time. With the smashed remnant of half a dozen vessels along for the ride.

  “Howitzer, all guns fire!”

  After all the trouble those smug bastards have caused, it’s rather cathartic to see it all go up in smoke. Without shields a Bulwark is little more than a target. Mark 5 and 1s don’t do any better. The Attack Craft are small and fast enough they manage to scurry away. Don’t worry, your time will come soon enough. I’d say this is enough.

  “Crusader, Charge.”

  What dregs remain of the Bulwark Battle Group are reduced to sand. Disintegrators are some of the most powerful weapons allowed in the Union. In fact there have been many attempts to get them banned. Something about war crimes and unnecessary pain and suffering. They stick around for one important reason. Under five hundred kilometers, nothing hits harder. Crusader charges on, quickly meeting the Battle Group that had been hiding behind. Mine is bigger and better armed. My fighters finally meet hers. It's a genuine brawl. An incoherent flurry of carnage.

  “Leave Crusader to their duty. Tower, Howitzer, with me. We have more work to do.”

  Tower leads. We still have equal numbers so I need to watch carefully. Inanna takes notice. Half the fighters break off and head towards Howitzer. Good. As it was, Crusader would have been whipped out entirely. Now they stand a good chance.

  “Howitzer, continue forward. Command Squadron will intercept.”

  My escort ships are head and shoulders above the rest. Long range intercept missiles and magnetic field charges cut down dozens of fighters before they can get close. Despite all that, about fifty make it through. The Tertiaries kick in. Six barrel Light Plasma launchers. A single hit it guaranteed destruction and they dish out thirty a second. More fall. They charge none the less. Inanna is going for the desperate play here. Less than ten remain. They are in range now.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Rockets Incoming!”

  Short range, unguided rockets. Something no modern military would actually use in real life. We have moved past the desire for something so primitive. But here, in this messed up game that is deciding two careers, they have one very distinct advantage over anything else. Enough power that a single small squadron of fighters can tear even a Command ship completely open.

  I didn’t give the order for an escort to take the hit for me. I don’t know if one would had this been real life, even if I did given the order. Regardless, the ship moved to protect me. The reward for such bravery was vivisection. If that was a real ship, filled with real people, I don’t know if I’d be able to live with myself. I’m sure Inanna would feel much the same about those fighters she had ordered to their deaths as well. At least I hope so.

  “Report, what's Tower and Howitzer status?”

  “Currently engaged against two enemy Battle Groups.”

  “Full speed. I need to see to this myself.”

  A minute passes until we’ve reached the new frontline. Tower is taking hits and Howitzer is dishing them out, just like they should be. The AI is basic, only does the most obvious of tactics when not commanded otherwise. This strategy is so simple even they can't screw it up and it's hard to counter without the proper tools. Yet somehow that’s exactly what is happening.

  My hunch about the Carrier Battle Group was right. The entire section is just carrier vessels from top to bottom. And with nearly all their craft now decimated they aren’t really worth much. The group is already effectively dead. Which might be why Inanna made such a cold decision. Using them as meat shields to protect her last combat Battle Group. They don’t take many hits, they aren’t Bulwarks after all, but one or two hits may be all that is needed to make the difference.

  Towers shields are finally failing. They’ve taken far too many hits. Her Attack Craft are still active. The shields won’t all go down at once. There will be holes that expose the soft inner flesh to the harsh outside. Allowing Inanna to send her Attack Craft to enter those holes. Tower’s Mark 2s are out of secondaries and their Tertiaries would struggle. Would only take one or two more Bulwarks to fall for the shield to go down and Tower with it.

  “I want Microwave Projectors charged and ready to fire. Have Howitzer’s Mark 1 hunters ready to intercept. This is going to get dicey.”

  Tower’s shields start to falter. There is maybe three percent power remaining. The Attack Craft rush in just as I expected.

  “All Microwaves fire!”

  If Inanna knew what my Command Ship was using she would have chosen a different plan. The six craft in front vanish from this reality. The rest try to turn back. Far too late. My Mark 1s charge in. With their backs turned the Attack Craft stood no chance. Hunted like minnows by swift barracuda. The Mark 1s don’t stop there, either. Rushing directly into the last Battle Group and unloading everything they have. They don’t last long, but take a couple ships down with them.

  Towers shield fall and the last Carrier is blown away. No more stalling. Another brawl is looking to start. Bulwarks without shields are targets. Artillery ships are terrible at close range. If Inanna makes the right moves this will end with neither of us having any ships left. Now is the time to make every move count.

  Oh wait, never mind. Crusader is back.

  “Crusader, do what you do best.”

  Only seven ships remain in Crusader. More than enough. Tower charges, still taking the hits despite knowing they can't anymore. With Howitzer providing cover fire, Crusader is able to close the difference without fear. A glorious charge between warships, firing anti-matter in all directions. By the end of it all, only three ships in Crusader survive and only eleven in Tower. There are none of Inanna’s.

  All that is left is Inanna’s Command Squadron. She doesn’t try to hide. I think she knows it’s over. The Advanced Jammers are turned off. The fog finally cleared. Her Squadron is comprised of her Command ship with that very dangerous and from the looks of things very destroyed Devastation Cannon and Three other craft. One is the Advanced Jammer carrier. A Mark 4+ with a Jammer that big? No wonder I was flying blind. The other two are Drone Carriers. This means she has no combat capable craft remaining.

  “Send a hail. Ask for her surrender.”

  I never get a reply. The holo screens just stop. The Mechanicals power down. Everything goes back to normal. I see the gathered cowed in the seats above who were watching our every move. My new crew, command staff, the representatives of the Greater Races. They are cheering. I hear a chant. Captain Tom. Captain Tom. I was never one to enjoy all that theatrics and attention. This though? This feels nice.

  The platforms are raised. For the first time in hours I and Inanna see eye to eye. She doesn’t look angry or ashamed. Just disappointed in herself.

  “The better Captain won. I hope you do well.”

  “What do you mean by that? “

  “A-aren't you going to send me away? I was insubordinate. I challenged your command.”

  “I will answer that question after you answer one of mine. If this was a real battle, if those were real people under your command, would you have fought the way you did?”

  Inanna blinks. Taken aback by my demand.

  “No. I took advantage of the fact they were fake. There are many things I would not have done had real lives been at stake.”

  “In that case, I have a First Officer spot that is still open. If you will have me.”

  She smiles and gives a salute.

  “At your service, Captain Tom.”

  “Captain indeed.”

  A third platform approaches. Five delegated for the five Greater Races. The Cosmos comes forward.

  “I think it is time we make this official. We will have your weapon prepared immediately. And your vessel, have you though of a name?”

  “Yes actually. I was thinking Moby.”

  “How curious. Any symbolism I am not aware of?”

  “It’s an old story of time long before humanity reached the stars. A great white creature called a whale was being hunted by a mad sailor. He chased and chased until it led to his death and the death of all his crew. A tale of hubris. Chasing after that which should not be challenged. The whale was called Moby.”

  I stare at High Admiral Tristerol. I think he gets the message.

  “How unconventional. Just what I would expect. Come Tom. Bow your head.”

  I walk forward. Dropping to a knee and lower my head. Feel like I’m meeting a Queen. Suppose I am. Cosmos, Geod, Zeta, Triterroran, Seraph, they all say their piece.

  “By the power vested in us for the good of all the Galactic Union.”

  “By the weight of your accomplishments.”

  “By the knowledge obtained and to be yet discovered.”

  “By the glory of honor, duty and determination.”

  “By the will of your own spirit.”

  “We dub thee, Expeditionary Captain Tom.”