"Turn it off," snapped Acting Commander Grevorich at his coms officer. The woman complied, her usually dark complexion a few streaks lighter as she shut off the late Admiral Idrina's screams that haunted the airways. The Commander leaned down on the display, a weary, tired frown wrinkling his aging forehead. "Damned bastards," he muttered.

Grevorich was a fairly old officer for the rank he was, being in his early forties, but it had never been due to a lack of abilities. Novican officer schools still used the age old system that those with the best marks would have the pick of the litter in regards to assignments. Or so the theory went. Despite being head and shoulders above his colleagues, he had ran afoul of a political plot when he had intervened when one of his fellow trainees had laid his hands on a waitress while drunk. Or so the military court had labelled it. Well, not precisely. The words "harmless flirting" and "excessive violence" had been used. The waitress had disappeared, Grevorich suddenly found his grades falling dramatically and virtually all of his friends abandoned him overnight. It had left him bitter, angry, and worst of all, with a logistical assignment.

As such, when the call to action came in the form of a coded message, Grevorich hadn't hesitated. Years of repressed hate had been unleashed in a swift instant as he called up friends and allies, plotted a swift joint action plan, and then proceeded to brutally murder every single politically appointed bastard in between him and total command. It had taken a while. Cushy logistical posts had been rife with incompetents looking for an easy way out, receiving some military honours despite being a major pain in the ass for everyone involved. Nothing as prestigious as the frontline assignments, but those morons above him in the hierarchy weren't worth the uniform they had worn.

He had taken his time killing them.

Now he was the sole leader of the Nagalan defence force, and damned well aware how important it was to the war effort. He knew the Imperials, had gone up against them often enough in wargames. He had seen their logistics and battle fleets in action, had been utterly awed by the well oiled machine that they were. And now they were his enemy. He enjoyed it, really. He was smart, capable, and this time he had the absolute loyalty of those around him. And already he was being pushed to make hard, shocking decisions.

"Calculate it again," he asked navigations, rubbing his temples.

"Sir, running calculations," came the swift response. Lieutenant Gilgi was a good man. Smart, capable and very charismatic. And just like him, banished to a far corner of the Confederacy after a passionate dalliance with the daughter of a member of Parliament who had found the upcoming officer of too low a rank to permit it. Grevorich liked him. Gilgi could be trusted. "No changes, sir. The freighters are headed for the planet. Do you... Do you think that was planned?"

He gave the LT a weary, sad smile. Kid hadn't participated in Imperial wargames yet. Didn't know better. "It was. Make no mistake." He turned to his coms officer, a very attractive woman who held the rank of captain despite being younger than Gilgi. He hadn't learned her name yet. Wouldn't bother either. He'd have her replaced as soon as possible. She had only been chosen for the staff for one reason, and it hadn't been her intelligence. "Com the convoy again. Tell them to get them fixed, or they'll crash into the planet." And I won't allow that, he added quietly.

"Yes sir," came the honeyed response. Her voice, while pleasant, at least had lost that disgusting tone from wanting to please him. He recalled the Podhorin's face, contorted in pain, as the governor-general had begged for mercy. He sighed at the memory. Should have killed the bastard more slowly, he lamented. Whores in uniforms. God dammit all.

"Message sent, they are working as fast as they can to repair the damage, but are uncertain they can fix it. They are asking for assistance."

"Negative on that. They're going too fast to make a docking attempt. Gilgi, what are the Imperials doing?"

"Holding fast at the edge of the system, sir," came the immediate response. "They seem to be waiting for something..."

"I think the same. Keep an eye out on them. Warn me as soon as you see anything change. If they do so much as blink, I want to know."

"Aye sir!"

"Good man." He turned to his small staff of officers and looked each and every one of them in the eyes, including the dolled up coms officer. He fought off the urge to hate her. She was a symptom, not the cause, of the illness that plagued the Novican military. He gave her a simple nod, then moved on to the rest of his staff. "You have all performed well. I know that you all have been put under considerable stress, that most of you have never seen combat before and that the destruction of Lufer and the consequent weeding out of dangerously incompetent individuals of our ranks have unnerved you greatly. Yet despite that you held fast. I am proud of you, for that. War," he continued as he walked through the small command bunker, "is in essence nothing but an advanced form of accounting. It is a cruel, unforgiving game of numbers. Firepower, fuel, armour thickness, morale, ships, missile reserves, manpower, training, ... They are all part of an enormous calculation. If our entire military is a human body, then those freighters are the blood cells. Our warships are our limbs and we, the officers, are its brain. But this planet, the very one that we have sworn to defend, is the beating heart of the Confederacy. Without Nagalan, we will all fall. Yet we won't let this bleak future come to pass! We will defend it, to the summum of our capability! To the last of our breaths, if need be. We will hold the line against these invaders! Because we are Novicans!" His voice gained strength as he paced back and forth, feeling the gazes of the men and women steeling under his words. "We are not cowards! We are soldiers! We wear our uniforms with pride! We chose this path for a myriad of reasons! For glory! For fame! To serve our nation! But now we are united in purpose and goal! No Imperial force shall bring low Nagalan as long as we stand guard!" Stress evaporated as his speech marched on, backs were straightened and eyes began to gleam. "So I promise you this, brave men and women who stand here beside me! That Nagalan will not fall! We shall hold at bay the Imperials and lay waste to any plan they might think of! No matter the cost!"

"No matter the cost!" the officers roared in unified defiance.

The landing craft was shaking under the strains of the speed they were travelling at. Cindy grimaced as the pilot, the one Genesis in their group that wasn't solidly encased in the metal of a drop pod, threw the ship onto a new path, narrowly dodging a piece of debris that tore loose from the nearby freighter. This is madness, she thought. She was watching the pilot's feed through the shared HUD that connected her with her eight squadmates, and was trying to keep up with the rapidly evolving situation. So far everything was going just as planned. The damaged freighters, blinded after the fighters tore apart their sensors and turrets, were excellent cover. Their engines, damaged shields and holed hulls bled so much energy that the landing craft were invisible, as long as they stayed close by. It was not an easy feat to continuously tag along to the freighters, as they were shedding debris as well as energy and even a small hull plate could do catastrophical damage to their tiny vessels. She tried not to dwell on it. The idea that a team of inhuman crack soldiers and an Admiral of the galaxy's most feared intelligence network would end up meeting such an ignoble end was so stupid that it somehow stole a smile from her lips. It lasted until the HUD started flashing urgently. In the same instant the heartbeat of the other Genesis shot up by a few beats and the communication panel in the corner of her vision began blinking like mad.

"Freighter shield energy levels climbing rapidly," came Dreamer's voice over the squad-wide network. "Combat readiness."

She tried to nod, failed due to being fully encased in metal, then clicked her acknowledgment over the coms instead. "Have we been spotted?" she asked. "Why are they boosting their shields?"

Once again the Genesis network exploded in a shower of whispered, singular words and countless blinking lights. After a dozen seconds of what was no doubt intense communication, Dreamer answered her. "Incoming fire."

"But who—" she began, before her mind answered the question for her. She paled. "Oh crud."

"Brace," came Dreamer's unneeded advice. She bit down on her mouthpiece and mentally prepared herself for the turbulence of a lifetime.

"The order is clear," the honeyed voice repeated, a merciless undertone belying its sweetness. "You are to make for your lifeboats and eject. The fleet will come pick you up after that."

"You can't do this!" the convoy leader shouted back, his anger failing to obfuscate his fear and panic. "The military is overstepping its bounds! My uncle is a member of—"

"We will fire in five minutes," the coms officer repeated, the honey making way for cold fury. "You have until then. Command out." She cut the line and wheeled around in her chair. "Command sent, sir," she began, before freezing up when she caught Grevorich's stern gaze on her. She didn't dare move. Then she saw his gaze leave her eyes and dip lower, towards her chest. A shiver ran up her spine. The commander had looked at her with disdain before, something she had born with as much grace as she could. This... This was worse, somehow. As if she was back to being judged as a piece of meat. She never had wanted to be treated like a damned dolled up whore, but she had neither the connections nor the wealth to do anything about it. She had thought Grevorich was different. She had been relieved. What a damned fool she'd been to—

"Well done Lieutenant Nayasi," his voice came, tearing through her thoughts. His gaze had returned to eye level and there was neither lust nor desire in it. Instead he gave her a solid nod. "I have underestimated you."

My name tag, she realised. Of course. She felt like a fool, turning back to her station to hide her reddening cheeks, a measure of pride sneaking into her heart. She relished it.

"Request confirmation of the firing solutions with the fleet. Those ships are not to come close to the planet."

"Sir," she complied. A small beep rang in her ears and with a flick of her wrist she opened a secondary channel even as she parlayed with the fleet commander. "Sir, convoy is requesting additional time to launch all lifeboats." She didn't turn to look at him this time, instead keeping her attention focused on her screens.

"Gilgi?"

"Three minutes remaining before they leave optimal intercept range," came the immediate answer. "They pass that, the planetary defences will have to contend with a lot of debris."

"Intercept chance?"

"Estimated boundaries set. First line is total and adds eleven minutes. Second line is—"

"We give them eight more."

"Sir, relaying message," came Nayasi's dutiful reply.

Grevorich turned to his intelligence officer, an older, grey veteran who technically outranked the self-declared commander, but had made clear that he had no desire to run the show. Grevorich could respect that. Too few officers knew when they were being promoted beyond their own abilities. "Are our unwelcome guests making any moves?"

"No sir," came a coughed answer. "They're holding position. No noticeable communication, though no clue how much they're tight-beaming, can't really pick that up. Energy signature is low, though. My best guess is that they're waiting for the ships to impact before jumping out. They're at the edge of the gravity well."

He nodded and silence fell over the command post. Only the constant beeping of screens and new messages perforated it, heightening the dooming sense of urgency as millions of kilometres away a handful of titanic freighters barged on through the void of space, on a collision course with the planet. Aboard it were thousands of men and women who raced down halls and climbed down gantries to reach the relative safety of the lifeboats. Gilgi tracked every blip on the radar, many of them winking out shortly after launch. He grimaced at the sight. The little tugs weren't intended to be jettisoned at such a velocity and many broke under the strain. And a single breach was enough...

Finally the timer ran out. "Tell them to focus their salvoes," Grevorich ordered, his eyes darker than usual. "I don't want more casualties than needed."

"Yes sir," Nayasi answered. She did not tell him of the voices screaming in her ear, begging for more time. He knew. All of them did. Still she relayed the command, ordering the fleet to fire on allied vessels and condemning civilians to the afterlife. She grimaced and struggled to contain the bile rising up in her throat.

"Acknowledged," came the simple response. "Executing firing solution."

We will not let the Imperials harm Nagalan, she thought darkly. Grevorich' speech rang through her head.

No matter the cost.