Delta Sector Outpost 7, Imperial Periphey
The klaxons remained silent, a deliberate choice by Commander Vorlag to maintain operational calm, but the tension within Delta-7 was a palpable force. Red alert lighting bathed the corridors in an urgent crimson glow. Personnel moved with brisk efficiency, armored figures securing defensive positions, tech crews running final checks on weapon systems, the low murmur of readiness replacing the usual outpost drone.
Valerius stood in the command center, observing the main holographic display. Dots representing the approaching Red Scorpion vessels crept steadily closer. Five distinct signatures, frigate-class or smaller, consistent with the predicted feint force. Their energy profiles were deliberately masked, attempting poor-man's stealth, but the outpost's enhanced sensor net, guided by Valerius's System-informed parameters, tracked them easily.
"Estimated time to optimal firing range for Platform Alpha: ninety minutes," reported a sensor technician, his voice tight.
"Maintain tracking," Commander Vorlag ordered, his gaze fixed on the display. He stood near Valerius, a silent acknowledgment of the Lieutenant's role in predicting this exact scenario. "All defensive batteries, maintain readiness state two. Weapons free on my command only. We don't fire first unless they make a direct hostile move on the outpost itself."
The strategy, devised by Valerius and approved by Vorlag, was clear: meet the feint with a show of prepared defense, deterring a costly direct assault on the outpost without overcommitting resources needed elsewhere – namely, alerting the Sector Command fleet about the real threat gathering near Grid 11.
Lieutenant Kaelen stood across the command center, overseeing internal security deployments. He studiously avoided looking at Valerius, his posture stiff. The validation of Valerius's analysis had clearly stung his pride. Valerius ignored him; petty rivalries were irrelevant noise compared to the strategic game unfolding and the power coalescing within him.
While outwardly focused on the tactical display, Valerius kept a portion of his awareness turned inward, monitoring the System and the final stages of the energy refinement.
<
Eighteen days. The progress was relentless, fueled by the potent energy absorbed from the geothermal vein. But the System's warning was new. It wasn't just about accumulating enough pure energy anymore; a final push, a catalyst, was needed to breach the barrier between Peak Warrior and true Wargod. What kind of catalyst? Intense combat? A sudden insight into fundamental energy laws? Or could the System itself provide it?
'System, analyze 'Wargod Threshold Catalyst'.'
<
A simulation? Could the System simulate the stress or insight needed? Or procure a rare, volatile isotope? The latter seemed impossible out here. He filed the information away. The approaching battle might provide the catalyst naturally.
"Scorpion lead elements entering extreme sensor range," the technician announced. "They're broadcasting standard pirate hails, demanding station surrender and resource tribute."
Vorlag snorted. "Arrogant bastards. Open a channel. Lieutenant Valerius, you have the conn for communication."
Valerius stepped up to the primary comms console. This was another test, another chance to demonstrate capability. "Channel open, Commander."
"This is Commander Vorlag of Imperial Outpost Delta-7," Valerius broadcast, his voice calm and steady, digitally altered slightly to match Vorlag's timbre as per protocol for initial contact. "You have entered restricted Imperial space. Identify yourselves and state your intentions, or you will be fired upon."
A burst of static, then a sneering voice replied, laced with artificial reverb. "Imperial lapdogs. This sector belongs to the Red Scorpions now. Power down your weapons, prepare for boarding, and maybe we'll let your miserable lives continue. You have ten minutes."
"Negative," Valerius replied instantly, cutting the channel. "Commander, their posture confirms hostile intent. Recommend raising readiness to state one. Target acquisition locks authorized."
"Agreed," Vorlag nodded grimly. "Readiness one. All stations, prepare for combat."
Red lights intensified. Targeting reticles appeared on the holographic display, locking onto the approaching Scorpion vessels. The low hum in the command center deepened as weapon systems charged.
Valerius felt the energy within him surge in response to the rising tension, the imminent threat of violence. Was this the beginning of the catalyst? The System Interface flickered.
<
Low intensity. Not enough yet.
"Scorpion vessels accelerating," the sensor tech reported. "They're deploying hardpoints. Looks like they intend to probe our defenses."
"Let them come closer," Vorlag ordered, his knuckles white where he gripped the console edge. "Hold the line. Show them Delta-7 has teeth."
Valerius watched the tactical display, the System feeding him firing solutions, predicting enemy maneuvers fractions of a second before they happened. He felt strangely detached, his mind operating on two levels – the cool, analytical strategist managing the external battle, and the cultivator feeling the immense power gathering within, straining against the final barrier.
The Red Scorpions were coming. The first test was here. And deep within him, the threshold to a new stage of power beckoned, waiting for the spark of true combat to ignite it.