POV: Karan S’jet

  They came without warning.

  No ultimatums.

  No signals.

  No mercy.

  The stars above Hiigara ignited in fire as the first wave tore through the outer pickets. Defense platforms blinked out in searing flashes. The Home Fleet scrambled—caught in the lull of final systems checks and the hush before launch.

  At the forefront of the assault was him.

  Makaan.

  The Vaygr warlord. The self-proclaimed harbinger of a "Divine Crusade." He did not send his fleet. He led it.

  Her thoughts synced instantly with the Pride of Hiigara — the new Mothership, still tethered to orbital scaffolds, her core warm but not yet ready for hyperspace. Based on schematics uncovered from ancient Hiigaran vaults, she was the future of the Navy, a living relic reborn in steel. But she was not yet free.

  Makaan's flagship bore down on them, vast and wrathful, casting a long shadow over the orbital lanes. It was flanked by Vaygr Heavy Cruisers, escort carriers, and corvette screens, burning plasma trails as they accelerated toward their prey. His strategy was cruelly clear: decapitate Hiigara before it could even raise its sword.

  But I am not unarmed, Karan thought.

  And I am not unready.

  "Karan," Captain Coran's voice cut in, sharp with tension. "We’ve lost seven outer sentry posts. Two defense frigates are down. Civilian transports are clogging orbital lanes. Collision reports incoming. We need orders."

  She replied in one breath. "Rally the fleet. Consolidate behind the Mothership. Begin fallback rotation Theta-Six. Launch all remaining interceptor wings and escort corvettes. Prioritize evac lane clearing."

  Her mind stretched further, linking with sensor data, fleet command channels, and telemetry feeds from hundreds of ships and platforms. But deeper still, she reached into the calm she had trained for—the neural command sphere, the place where battle became pure logic and pattern.

  Deploy the Ion Frigates to Grid Epsilon.

  Hide them in the debris fields.

  Mask their emissions. Power down drives. Wait.

  The Vaygr moved closer. Their formation was relentless, a tidal wave of red hulls and ionized contrails. Karan's eyes flicked across trajectories. She could almost hear Makaan's certainty. His flagship was slower than its escorts, but it pushed forward nonetheless, flanked by a screen of flanking destroyers and hyperspace-inserted corvettes attempting a pincer move.

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  The Pride of Hiigara's escort group took heavy losses. One destroyer, Seraphim, lost shielding mid-broadside and was cut in two by twin ion strikes. Her comms officer died with a scream on an open channel. Another, Khadiim, broke formation to shield a fleeing civilian liner and was lost to a missile barrage.

  The chaos deepened. Hiigaran ion frigates struggled to lock targets through the jamming. Strike bombers tried to punch through the Vaygr line but were swatted away by massed point defense fire. Still, Karan kept the Mothership steady, its ventral railguns firing disciplined volleys as if daring the enemy to keep coming.

  She watched. Waited.

  Then the flagship entered the zone.

  The debris field was thick with the shattered bones of old scaffolds and derelict probes. It masked thermal signatures, confused targeting arrays, and held the perfect killing ground.

  Karan pulsed the silent command: Fire.

  From between the ruins, Hiigaran Ion Cannon Frigates lit the dark. Synchronized salvos burst from the flanks, carving burning scars into the Vaygr line. Frigates emerged in perfect phalanx from the field, their beams hammering into the unshielded flanks of Makaan’s escorts.

  One Vaygr cruiser cracked in two, atmosphere venting in a violet plume. A corvette wing attempted to respond—only to vanish beneath overlapping ion beams.

  Makaan’s flagship twisted hard to port, but too late. Three beams slammed into her port thrusters and lower engine nacelle. Armor slagged and secondary explosions rippled along her spine. Karan could see it: the panic as Makaan’s crew fought to stabilize power flow, the break in his momentum.

  "Flagship propulsion crippled," reported Tactical. "They’re withdrawing. Confirming emergency jump signatures."

  And yet there was no elation in her.

  Victory did not taste sweet.

  Because just as Makaan vanished, something worse arrived.

  "Multiple inhibitor spikes detected."

  Karan felt them bloom like cancers in her mind’s eye—Vaygr Hyperspace Inhibitor platforms deploying in a wide net, seeded from deep-strike vessels and already hardening their gravity wells.

  "They’re sealing us in," Coran said, voice low. "No one's getting out."

  Not yet.

  Karan closed her eyes, reaching out through the remaining long-range transmitters. She linked with orbital command. Then the Diamid. Then she cut through the command traffic and recorded the message herself.

  This is Karan S’jet of Hiigara. The Mothership stands. The enemy has blockaded our skies. All Hiigaran vessels beyond the blockade— S’jet, Manaan, Soban, Naabal, Paktu, Somtaaw— all Kiths and Kithless Higarans, this is your call. Rally allies. Organize resistance. Return with vengeance.

  She released the message on all frequencies, encrypted and open. Then she watched the enemy ships tighten their noose and whispered:

  We will not fall. Not while I still breathe.