Mid-sentence, the signal hit a wall of interference—then cut out entirely.
Veer’s voice snapped sharp. “Alert! Enemy radar lock detected.”
“Combat mode,” Wyatt said. “Prepare to intercept missiles.”
“Orders received.”
The first strike came from the orbital defense satellites. Diamond-shaped bodies, evenly spaced, unfolded like metal flowers and launched brilliant laser shots at the Free Will.
At that range, they weren’t much of a threat. Veer raised the optical deflection shield and dodged them cleanly.
A Goliath missile then punched up through the North Pole’s cloud cover, screaming toward the ship.
It never got close. Veer fired a focused lightspeed lance, detonating it in mid-flight—so close to the defense satellites that the blast nearly clipped their own hardware.
“Large fighter formation approaching,” Veer reported. “Engage?”
“How many?” Wyatt demanded.
“Fifty-seven… ninety-eight… one hundred twenty-six… still increasing… total can’t be determined.”
Black specks spilled over the cloud tops like locusts and came howling in. A dozen-plus warships followed, surging forward with obvious aggression.
“Fall back,” Wyatt said. “Lure them into our formation.”
“Understood.”
Wyatt’s fleet was lying in ambush not far away. The Free Will turned and retreated. Moments later, it merged with the hidden warships. When most of the enemy fighters entered range, Wyatt gave the order.
“Fire.”
A fleet at rest could cloak perfectly—so when the guns lit up all at once, the enemy formation snapped into chaos. Fighters exploded under the sudden barrage.
Ogen seemed to take the bait. More fighters and warships kept pouring in.
Wyatt ordered its mothership to release every one of its four hundred-plus Phantom fighters.
Phantom fighters had a nasty trick: each one could project six to eight false signatures on enemy radar. With hundreds in the air, the enemy’s display would smear into a solid red bruise.
Once Wyatt’s warships revealed themselves, Ogen adjusted. Instead of charging in head-on, half the force began to swing wide, trying to wrap around Wyatt’s one hundred ships and form a pocket.
Wyatt didn’t panic. It ordered the fleet to spread out and engage freely—each ship picking targets, moving, firing, surviving however it could.
The battle ignited in planetary orbit only thirty thousand kilometers above Lansen. At first, Wyatt had the advantage—but as the enemy’s numbers kept climbing, Ogen gradually wrestled the upper hand back.
Then a message from Blin slammed into the channel:
“Wyatt—Lord Blin here. I told you to harass their line, not play hero. What are you doing?!”
“Understood, Lord Blin.”
“Pull out—now. Don’t get yourself killed.”
“Withdrawing.”
The enemy warships were roughly equal in number now, and the encirclement hadn’t formed. A clean retreat should’ve been easy.
Wyatt ordered a saturation volley. The vanguard became the rearguard, and the fleet began withdrawing in disciplined waves.
Under the barrage, the enemy didn’t dare press too close. The distance opened. Escape was seconds away—
—and then the universe shifted under their feet.
“Emergency alert,” Veer said. “Large enemy fleet detected ahead. We’re being pincered.”
Wyatt watched the radar fill with red points at a terrifying pace—thousands upon thousands. For a heartbeat, it went blank.
“We’re finished,” Dorian breathed.
Big Blue’s voice cracked. “Where did they even come from?! Wyatt—what do we do?!”
The moment the new fleet appeared, it fired a full salvo.
Wyatt’s side was the one caught unprepared this time. The front line vanished into explosions—more than a dozen warships torn apart in seconds.
Only because the Free Will sat closer to the rear did it avoid being erased with them.
Wyatt snapped back into motion. “Launch Starbreaker tri-phase rounds. Target: the enemy fleet ahead.”
Veer replied in rapid confirmation, voice turning procedural:
“Captain command confirmed: Starbreaker missile safeties disengaged… bay doors opening… target—enemy fleet ahead… targeting solution complete… tri-phase detonation primed… awaiting launch authorization…”
“Cancel countdown. Fire immediately.”
“Tri-phase round launched.”
A missile longer than a fighter shot forward, engines screaming.
“Dorian,” Wyatt said, “order our remaining ships to scatter—break to the rear flank and run.”
“Order transmitted,” Dorian said urgently. “But what about us?!”
Wyatt looked back once. “Turn around,” it said. “Let’s give Ogen a little more trouble.”
…
Thirty seconds later, a massive white sphere blossomed in space—like a newborn star. It swallowed hundreds of warships in an instant… including nearly half of Wyatt’s own ships that hadn’t escaped fast enough.
Those farther out were still caught by the shockwave, thrown apart like leaves in a hurricane.
From the surface of Lansen, the sky would’ve looked like it had grown a second sun. Brightness spiked by orders of magnitude. On the side facing the blast, the cloud cover tore open into a huge ragged hole. Even the sea below surged, raising waves more than ten meters high.
The “sun” held for half a minute, then shrank, dimmed, and died.
A straight contrail then carved through the sky.
The Free Will plunged into the atmosphere like a meteor, slammed down into a fjord beside an island, and immediately switched to stealth mode.
Wyatt burst out of the top hatch, scanned the surroundings, and cursed. “No. Not hidden enough. We’ll be found. Veer—can you submerge?”
“Yes,” Veer said. “But I must flood half the compartments, including the hangar. We should release all Fengshen fighters first.”
“Do it,” Wyatt said. “Releasing fighters will widen our view. Hurry—enemy pursuit is coming.”
“Understood, Captain Wyatt.”
Twelve super Fengshen fighters scattered into the cloud cover. Wyatt also released two Shadow Falcons and tucked them into the island’s cliffside.
Then it rushed back inside.
Seawater poured in. The Free Will began to sink.
Through the Fengshen feeds, Wyatt saw the enemy regrouping from the chaos of the blast. Warships and fighters flooded in from every direction.
Worst of all, the fastest fighters would arrive before the submersion completed.
“Too slow!” Wyatt said. “Veer—faster!”
“Apologies, Captain,” Veer replied. “First-time submersion requires additional time.”
To buy seconds, Wyatt deliberately had the Fengshen fighters reveal themselves in the clouds.
It worked. The enemy swarmed them, assuming the Free Will was hiding there too.
The dogfight erupted inside the storm cover. The super Fengshen fighters were powerful—but numbers were numbers. They began dropping one by one.
When the last Fengshen icon on the tactical display turned gray, the Free Will finally completed its dive.
The ship settled onto the jagged seabed, motionless as a stone.
“They’re here,” Wyatt said.
It projected the Shadow Falcon’s feed onto the main screen: the ocean surface was crowded with search fighters and warships, sweeping the area again and again for more than half an hour.
Everyone felt the same cold relief. Without going underwater, under that kind of high-frequency, multi-type sweep, even an invisible robot would eventually be found—let alone a warship.
After finding nothing, a handful of frigates arrived and dropped several Listeners at regular intervals. Those high-altitude probes could function as hydrophones too.
“Shut down all systems,” Wyatt whispered. “Radio silence.”
“Understood,” Veer replied.
The ship went dead-quiet. Wyatt even cut its connection to the Shadow Falcons.
They waited in silence for three full hours.
Only then did Wyatt cautiously reconnect to a Shadow Falcon and look again.
The enemy was gone. The sea had returned to its earlier calm.
“We’re safe,” Wyatt said, and only then let the tension release.
Dorian and Big Blue sagged with relief.
“We survived.”
“Shame about the hundred warships… and the super Fengshen fighters,” Big Blue said softly.
Wyatt ordered the ship to surface.
The moment communications came back online, Blin’s request pinged in.
Wyatt accepted.
Blin looked like it had been holding its breath for hours. “Thank the heavens you’re alive. Cha-cha-cha. Little White and Bit have asked about you a dozen times.”
“My fleet is gone,” Wyatt said. “I’m sorry, Lord Blin.”
“I told you not to play hero and you didn’t listen,” Blin snapped. “Boasting, tri-phase detonations… good thing I only gave you a hundred ships. If I’d given you a thousand, you’d probably try to fight the sky.”
Blin glared. “Where are you now?”
“Somewhere on the southern Starvast Ocean,” Wyatt said. “I haven’t confirmed the exact coordinates.”
“What?!” Blin barked. “You’re on the surface?!”
“I didn’t expect Ogen to plant an ambush of several thousand large warships behind me,” Wyatt said. “If I’d tried to flee into space, I would’ve died.”
Blin frowned. “Several thousand?”
“At least four thousand.”
Blin’s confusion sharpened. “I only have three thousand. Four thousand is enough to kill me. Why would it use that many ships to ambush your hundred?”
Wyatt’s optics narrowed. “Because they weren’t for me.”
“If we’d launched a full assault on Edean without intel,” it said, “Ogen would’ve come in behind us and stabbed us in the back.”
Blin nodded slowly. “That’s the trap the mystery helper warned about. You’re right—and you broke it. Good.”
“Luck,” Wyatt said.
“Fine. But how are you getting back? Orbit is packed with patrol ships now.”
“I’m not coming back,” Wyatt said.
Blin’s eyes narrowed. “And what, exactly, are you planning now?”
Wyatt’s voice went low with something that almost sounded like joy. “Back at Double Moon Bay, I told Heligen my warships would appear anywhere on Lansen at random—and destroy their bases and factories whenever I pleased.”
Its optical lens glinted. “Now is when I make good on that promise.”
Blin stared at it, then shook its head—then nodded. “Ah. You’re insane.”
A beat later, it added, “But I like it.”
“Then give me a blessing.”
“Fine. Good luck.”
“I still prefer the way you used to talk.”
“Cha-cha-cha. Stay sharp, idiot,” Blin said. “Don’t die. And don’t hang up.”
“You got it.”