It was always summer and the future called

We were ready for adventures and we wanted them all

And there was so much left to dream

And so much time to make it real

But I can still recall the sting of all the tears when he was gone

They say he crashed and burned, I know I'll never learn

Why any boy should die so young

We were racing; we were soldiers of fortune

We got in trouble but we sure got around

There are times I think I see him peeling out of the dark

I think he's right behind me now, and he's gaining ground

But it was long ago and it was far away, oh God it seems so very far

And if life is just a highway, then the soul is just a car

And objects in the rear view mirror may appear closer than they are

Meat Loaf - “Objects in the Rear View Mirror May Appear Closer Than They Are”

High Commander Azhum Ganakh, of the Khonhim Home Fleet, looked over the latest plots and grunted, before settling back into his chair. The Tetrarchy ships were out there somewhere, just past sensor range, though they had gotten much better at staying hidden over the years. Despite the peaceful overtures of their old adversaries, there was still a great deal of mistrust...on both sides.

In his more charitable moments, he would perhaps admit the old Triumvirate races had stayed true to their word, helping to rebuild the shattered worlds lost during the war. After sharing a few glasses with trusted comrades...a circle that grew smaller with each passing year...he might even be willing to concede their presence in Khonhim space was justified, given their shared history.

But that did not mean he had to like it.

The humans called it, “Cat and Mouse”. Admiral Fujimoto...no, wait...she was Field Marshal now, had mentioned it in passing during one of their summits. Each side tracked the other, testing their mettle and their resolve...but only to a point. Neither side wanted to make the fatal mistake that would push them into war once again...at least, not until the odds were considerably more in their favor.

Azhum turned to his Tactical officer. “Take us up above the ecliptic,” he ordered. “The Tetrarchy fleet may have slithered out of our grasp this round...but I have no intention of allowing them to do so again.”

“At once, High Commander!” the officer acknowledged, bending to her task. She was one of the new breed; young, bright, eager to prove her skills...and had been a child when the Ceasefire had been signed.

He felt like a fossil just looking at her.

Shifting in his chair once again, he viewed the plot with a critical eye, looking for that first hint that could tip the odds to their favor.

On the other side of the system, his ships at full EMCON, Fleet Admiral Matevosian smiled as he planned his next maneuver. Gzuj was one of the worlds the Tetrarchy had smashed down to the bedrock during the previous war, though with great effort it was undergoing something of a rebirth. A steady stream of vessels trundled their way back and forth, carrying personnel and supplies vital to the effort, while his Task Force and the one under Azhum Ganakh played Hide and Seek...though each side stayed far away from the civilian ships. He didn’t like the grizzled old bastard, never had...but he had learned to respect him.

Not that you’re a spring chicken, he chuckled to himself. There were still a few of the Old Guard left...Hélène and Prime Minister Singh, for example...but more and more younger faces were filling the ranks. They could barely recall a time when the thought of Earth having a real military force was somewhere between a bad joke and an ancient nightmare.

Mankind had slipped back into his old habits, as Military Academies opened once more...though these days West Point, Sandhurst, Frunze, and Saint-Cyr were just as likely to be cranking out Saurotaur and Ophipteran graduates, as they were humans. Most still leaned towards pacifism but after back-to-back wars, many of their brethren had adopted a much more...pragmatic viewpoint. Matevosian still hadn’t decided whether he thought the trend was a good thing or not.

“Sir...I am picking up something unusual on long-range sensors,” his Ronin helmsman announced, pulling him from his reveries.

“What the hell is Ganakh up to now?” he grumbled.

The Artificial lifeform turned to face him. “Sir...I do not believe it is the Khonhim I am detecting,” it said.

The Admiral stared at the Ronin in confusion. “Then what? One of the civilian vessels?”

“No Sir,” it responded, as it expanded the plot to a higher resolution. “The vector I am plotting for the unknown signal originates far outside the system, on a trajectory that would be all but impossible for the Khonhim Task Force to have maneuvered to.”

Matevosian rose to his feet as he stared at the holographic projection. There was no way Azhum could have gotten his ships to that position...not with the Δv they were observing unless his ships had just gotten one hell of an upgrade.

“Plot a reciprocal for that vector,” he ordered. “What’s on that heading?”

The Helmsman had the answer just moments later. “Admiral...to the best of our knowledge, nothing lies in that direction,” it said with growing concern.

He gripped the short railing that surrounded the projector. “Can you clean that up at all?” he asked. The image was hazy and indistinct.

“I am attempting to, Sir, but sensors are having difficulty getting a solid return. Some form of interference appears to be at work.”

An all too familiar sensation was settling into his gut; one he had not felt for a very long time. “Is there any sign they’ve detected us?” he asked.

“Not yet,” the Ronin replied. “I am observing no deviation at this time of its course and speed.”

His practiced eyes tracked the plot, as that sensation turned ice-cold. “Designate unidentified signal as Bogie 1,” he ordered. “Assuming it continues on this trajectory, where will it take him?”

A new plot appeared, marked in angry red. “If Bogie 1 continues on its current heading...it is almost certain to enter weapons range of the Khonhim Task Force within the next thirty-seven minutes.”

The confirmation of what his experience had already informed him felt like a steel door slamming shut. “Set Condition One throughout the fleet,” he heard himself say. “All hands to Battle Stations.”

The bridge lights turned blood red as klaxons sounded throughout the ship. TNS Minotaur was one of the latest of the Medusa-Class Monitors to come from Earth’s rebuilt shipyards, far more powerful than the carrier Kestrel he had flown his flag from during the last war. She was almost double the size of the old Zaaronq-Class Dreadnoughts, with enough firepower to have turned his younger self green with envy. The Task Force he commanded raised that combat power by an order of magnitude at least...and yet he wished he had more.

Matevosian had no proof of hostile intent...not yet anyway...but there was no way in Hell he would leave his people unprepared. Part of him wanted to wait and let the situation develop before committing to a course of action, but the years of experience under his belt told him that would be a fatal mistake. And if passivity was not an option...that left him only one other choice.

“Inform all civilian traffic they are to clear the system,” he ordered, “and then send a Flash message to Marshal Fujimoto, apprising her of the situation. Try to keep us under EMCON if you can...but get those messages out.”

“Aye aye, Sir,” the Com officer replied, as his fingers flew across his workstation.

“...and then,” he sighed, “raise High Commander Ganakh...and inform him we have company coming.”

“What?” Azhum said in shock. “Repeat that!”

“Commander….it is confirmed,” the Tactical officer replied, with widened eyes. “Our own sensors have now picked up the signal.”

Part of him wanted to dismiss it all as some Tetrarchy ruse...perhaps as a prelude to an escalation on their part...but in his heart, he knew.

“Clear for battle,” he snapped, as alarms began to sound, “and then send a Priority message to the Dhyaksh,” he said. “Inform him that an unknown force has entered the Gzuj System.”

“At once, Commander,” his officer acknowledged, already carrying out his wishes.

“You are also to inform him,” he continued, settling into his command chair, “that we presume them to be hostile.”