Outer Sector Outpost 7, Imperial Periphery
Emergency lights cast long, flickering shadows across the command center, painting the grim faces of the crew in stark relief. Primary lighting was gone in this section, along with several main consoles. The air was thick with the smell of burnt electronics and fear. The outpost shuddered under another salvo from the 'Crimson Fury', the impacts feeling heavier now as the shields weakened further.
"Shields at forty-one percent! Containment field on the reactor showing critical stress!"
"Battery Complex Gamma is completely offline!"
"Life support failing in Sector Epsilon-5 due to hull micro-fractures!"
The reports were a death knell, each one chipping away at the outpost's dwindling chances. Vorlag stood by the comms officer, overseeing the final data packet transmission, his face a mask of grim resignation. Kaelen was coordinating damage control teams, shouting orders into his comm unit, his earlier suspicion seemingly forgotten in the face of imminent destruction.
Valerius watched the holographic display, now flickering badly. The icon for the damaged Frigate Two tumbled erratically thousands of kilometers away. The System's assessment echoed in his mind: Probability of inducing targeted accidental discharge via external kinetic pulse: Extremely Low (<1%). Detection risk: High.
Less than one percent. High risk. But the alternative was certain destruction. Four percent survival was functionally zero.
He made the decision. It wasn't logical, not entirely. It was a desperate gamble born of necessity and the Wargod power thrumming within him, demanding action.
'System,' Valerius commanded internally, his focus narrowing with absolute intensity, shutting out the surrounding chaos. 'Target Frigate Two. Isolate primary forward weapon capacitor banks. Calculate precise multi-vector kinetic pulse sequence required to trigger uncontrolled discharge cascade. Prioritize discharge vector towards 'Crimson Fury'. Allocate maximum safe nanite energy channeling. Mask signature as residual shield collapse harmonics.'
The System's response was instantaneous, cold, and daunting. <
Less than one percent success. A high chance of detection. A guaranteed hit to his own stability. He didn't hesitate. 'Y.'
Valerius closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, drawing on the full depth of his Beginner Wargod power. He pushed his Spatial Sense out, across the vast distance, locking onto the tumbling frigate. It felt like trying to thread a needle in a hurricane from kilometers away. He could 'feel' the damaged vessel's chaotic energy signature, the flickering power within its weapon systems.
Guided by the System's complex targeting solution, which appeared as intricate, shifting geometric patterns in his mind's eye, he began to channel his energy. Not a single pulse this time, but three distinct, precisely timed kinetic lances, shaped and directed by the nanites, launched outwards from the outpost's compromised shield bubble. They were invisible, distortions in spacetime itself, hurtling towards the distant frigate.
The concentration required was immense. He felt sweat trickling down his temples inside his helmet. His vision swam momentarily as he poured energy into the maneuver, the System flashing warnings about his own dropping stability. He ignored them, focusing everything on the three points of impact calculated by the System, timed to strike specific capacitor conduits in sequence to overload them.
The first pulse struck. Through his Spatial Sense, he felt a flicker within the frigate's energy signature, like a skipped heartbeat.
The second pulse hit milliseconds later, at a different angle. A stronger surge, a chaotic flare of energy within the frigate's forward section.
The third pulse, the final key in the sequence, arrived.
For a heart-stopping moment, nothing happened. Had it failed? Had he wasted precious energy, risked exposure for nothing?
Then, on the main holographic display, flickering but still functional, the icon for Frigate Two suddenly blazed with light. Not an engine flare, but a weapon discharge. Uncontrolled. Violent. A ragged spear of plasma erupted from its forward cannon array, not aimed, but spewing outwards along its axis of rotation.
Because the frigate was tumbling erratically, the discharge wasn't directed cleanly. But for a fatal, statistically improbable instant, its chaotic spin aligned the uncontrolled blast directly towards the 'Crimson Fury'.
The heavy cruiser, focused entirely on bombarding the outpost, seemed taken completely by surprise. Its shields flared, absorbing the unexpected plasma bolt from its flank, but the sheer proximity and force of the discharge, even uncontrolled, caused a visible energy cascade across its shield grid. Alarms likely shrieked across its bridge.
The effect on the battle was instantaneous. The 'Crimson Fury' ceased its bombardment of the outpost, its turrets swiveling, its attention momentarily diverted by the inexplicable 'attack' from its own damaged consort. The remaining frigate also hesitated, its firing pattern faltering.
In the outpost command center, stunned silence reigned for a second, replaced by confused shouts.
"What was that?"
"Did Frigate Two just fire on the cruiser?"
"System malfunction?"
Valerius leaned heavily against the console, catching his breath, the world momentarily graying at the edges from the energy expenditure. His Wargod stability had taken a hit, feeling frayed and turbulent.
<
Forty percent chance they knew, or suspected, the discharge wasn't accidental, and that it originated from the outpost. He had bought them a reprieve, a moment of chaos in the enemy ranks, but potentially painted a target directly on himself.
Commander Vorlag stared at the display, then shot a sharp, questioning look at Valerius. Valerius met his gaze, offering nothing but exhaustion.
Before Vorlag could speak, a new alert blared, overriding all others.
"Commander!" the sensor chief yelled, his voice filled with disbelief and overwhelming relief. "Hyper-space rupture detected! Multiple signatures! Bearing 0-0-1, edge of the system! It's them, sir! It's the Sector Command Fleet! They're early!"
Hope, sudden and fierce, surged through the battered command center. The cavalry had arrived.