"Did I give you permission to speak?"
Rhael's voice was calm.
Moments earlier, he had struck Derek aside with a single backhanded blow. The larger Kryptonian had flown across the docking bay and cratered into the bulkhead hard enough to rattle the Aquarius from bow to stern.
Metal groaned.
Derek slid to the deck like a discarded training dummy.
"With that level of control," Rhael continued evenly, "you represent Zod?"
The insult landed.
The remaining officers didn't hesitate.
They moved as one.
Kryptonian physiology under a yellow sun was no small thing. Even without full solar saturation, their strength and speed outclassed most species in known space. The two nearest officers blurred forward, fists driving toward Rhael's face with synchronized precision.
The strikes carried enough force to collapse structural plating.
They never landed.
Rhael stepped into the attack instead of away from it.
His hands closed around their wrists mid-impact.
The sound that followed wasn't an explosion.
It was bone under pressure.
Both officers froze.
Their momentum—enough to punch through reinforced alloy—halted as if they had struck an immovable mass.
They stared at him.
"How disappointing," Rhael said quietly.
He tightened his grip.
Composite gauntlets fractured first. Then came the internal bracing. The crack of reinforced bone echoed through the bay.
The two soldiers cried out.
Rhael shifted his weight forward slightly.
"Kneel."
The command wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
The pressure increased.
Their arms buckled. Their spines bent. A second later, both dropped to one knee under the overwhelming force driving down through their own limbs.
The deck plating dented beneath them.
Behind Rhael, air displaced.
Fast.
Faora-Ul had not wasted time.
Faora-Ul moved like a blade. No wasted motion. No warning shout. She pivoted in from his blind angle and drove her palm toward the center of his spine with precise, lethal intent.
Her strike connected.
The impact thundered through the bay.
Lucini gasped.
But Rhael did not move.
Faora felt it immediately.
The blow had landed cleanly—perfect angle, optimal force transfer—and yet the resistance was wrong. As if she had struck a planetary core.
Solar-hardened tissue absorbed the majority of the kinetic transfer. The remainder dissipated through controlled energy conversion.
Rhael turned his head slightly.
"You should've waited," he said.
Faora retreated instantly.
Too late.
Rhael pivoted, accelerating in a tight arc that closed the distance before she could reset her stance. He drove his shoulder into her center mass.
The wall behind her caved inward.
Alloy plating split under the impact.
Faora hit the surface hard enough to spiderweb the structural frame. Air ruptured from her lungs in a short, involuntary exhale.
Still, she fought.
Her hand flashed toward his eyes—an efficient targeting of sensory vulnerability.
Rhael's perception sharpened.
Enhanced dynamic tracking engaged without conscious effort.
He intercepted her forearm mid-extension, twisted, and drove a short-range strike into her abdomen.
The impact wasn't theatrical.
It was efficient.
Faora folded, launched several meters across the bay, and crashed into the opposite wall. She slid down slowly, armor scraped and dented, one arm braced against the deck.
Pain flickered across her features.
Rhael surveyed the bay.
Derek had forced himself upright again, stubborn and furious. The other two officers struggled to rise from their kneeling positions, wrists damaged but functional thanks to Kryptonian regenerative resilience.
Rhael exhaled once.
"If I weren't concerned about the structural integrity of this ship," he said calmly, "none of you would still be conscious."
Derek roared and charged again.
Rhael didn't bother stepping aside this time.
He caught Derek by the throat mid-stride, lifted him off the deck, and redirected his momentum straight downward.
The impact cracked the plating.
Derek's body rebounded once before going limp.
Unconscious.
Silence followed.
Faora rose slowly to one knee, breathing controlled despite the bruising beneath her armor.
She studied him again—not with arrogance now.
With assessment.
"You are not standard military caste," she said quietly.
"No," Rhael replied.
The two remaining officers hesitated.
Faora raised a hand.
"Stand down."
They obeyed.
She pushed herself to her feet fully this time.
"General Zod awaits you aboard the World Engine," she said. "This was… a miscalculation."
Rhael inclined his head slightly.
"Let's avoid further ones."
Behind him, Todd stared openly.
Lilith remained composed, though her eyes betrayed calculation.
The message had been delivered.
Zod's elite guard had just been handled without escalation.
The real conversation would not be as simple.