“Fly us to the orbital command center over Lysandros,” Marcus commanded one of the flight attendants when they got back onto the stratoship. Not even sitting down to take a breath, he walked straight into the ship’s command room to meet with his council. He put on a demeanor of bravery, but his heart pounded like a drum every step of the way.

  Claric walked in a hurry by his side. “Your excellency, do you… do you think this is a response to us taking the star elf?”

  Marcus shot him a scowl. What a stupid question! “Of course it is. We need to make sure the other ministers don’t find out about that, and that Valen keeps his mouth shut.” The automatic door on the higher levels of the ship hissed open, and the two stepped into the command room. “Your only job is to figure out that thing’s language and find out how long its lifespan is. Do not forget its true purpose here.”

  “Yes, your excellency,” Claric gave a bow of his head as they gathered around a small holotable.

  Marcus turned to one of the officers. “Get me Grand Admiral Den’s adjutant, and summon the High Council for a meeting immediately.”

  The clone officer clicked his heels and bowed. “At once, your excellency.” And marched out of the room with some haste.

  The holotable flickered to life with blue light as Marcus paced around the majestic, sombre command room, adorned with the banners of Neptura and exquisite blue rugs that masked all sound of his footsteps. Blue and white projections shifted as they waited for the High Council to answer the summons. Claric stood in silence to the side, his shoulders stiff, his gaze locked in the hypnotizing blue light of the table. Marcus could almost hear the gears turning in the clone’s head as he no doubt worried about the consequences of his own plan. Interesting, Marcus thought. Maybe the scholarly caste of clones aren’t as brave as their militaristic counterparts…

  Marcus couldn’t blame him, though. He was shitting himself as well.

  A few moments passed, and the holograms appeared, the light shimmering into the forms of Ironsides, Den, and Valen, all gathered around the table as though they were right here with him. The First Minister stood tall and composed, his hair well groomed, his uniform pristine with a short cloak hanging over his shoulder. Then there was Grand Admiral Den, stern and stoic as ever in his full, decorated military uniform. Valen stood silent, shooting knowing glances at Marcus and Claric, but he betrayed nothing. Good. He wanted this, after all.

  Den’s adjutant walked into the room and took his place by Marcus’s side. A young officer bearing the Grand Archon’s face, black hair neatly cropped, and his pale, hard face flecked with the faintest shadow of a beard. His grey uniform sleek, buttoned at the side, with some silver shoulder straps. He gave the chest salute when Marcus looked his way. “Your excellency,” he said with a bow of his head.

  “Adjutant, welcome,” Marcus said. “Your name?”

  “Lieutenant Carthen, sir,” the clone replied.

  “Good, Lieutenant Carthen,” Marcus replied. “We may begin.”

  The holotable projected a detailed map of the Eryndal system, showing all its planets, the star elf bases and mining facilities, and the navies of both the star elfs and Neptura. The positions of the alien vessels were marked with red outlines, while the Nepturan research craft and initial fleet units carried blue outlines.

  “I hear that the Eryndal anomalies are taking a hostile stance toward our ships,” Marcus began. “Someone tell me what the hell is going on.”

  Ironsides was the first to speak, puffing his chest out and keeping his chin up. “Your excellency, you heard true. The alien fleets appear to be moving into attack positions, readying their weapons. We cannot yet be one hundred percent certain they will attack, but…” He tugged at his collar. “We may consider a further show of peace. I think this situation can still be salvaged before it boils over into an armed conflict, and from what I hear, our diplomats and linguists are near to establishing communication. I think a show of caution would do us some good.”

  “What do you suggest?” Marcus said. He would like peace, even after all that had happened… But his gut was fast telling him that may not come to pass.

  “Leave the system and establish a defensive choke point in the Lysandros system. Have our research craft and navy pull out immediately, which should give us the extra time we need to open up a diplomatic channel,” the First Minister said.

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  Marcus’s jaw tightened as he placed his hands over the humming holotable, leaning over it with some sort of grace. “Pull our ships out? I’m not sure that is wise, Ironsides. Not now. Think of the message that would send. That we run away with our tails between our legs the moment someone starts rattling their sabres.” Especially after we just kidnapped one of their workers…

  The holographic image of Ironsides flickered as he shifted in his place. “I understand your concerns, excellency, and while I do not disagree, we haven’t really seen any overt aggression. They may just be being cautious over a system to which they have laid claim. Would we really act any differently? Why hand them a reason to escalate while we can still talk?”

  Valen scoffed, shaking his head. “Spare us your idealism, Ironsides. A retreat now is an act of pathetic submission. Handing over all of our leverage before we can speak to them puts us on the backfoot. They will see our weakness and press their advantage. I say we strike first and hard before they can formulate a concentrated attack. That’ll teach them about trying to pipe up when we have done nothing to provoke them!”

  Marcus shot him a glance, allowing a slight grin. Good, he’s keeping face and playing along. They may have had their disagreements, but Marcus was starting to respect this man a great deal.

  Den stroked his beard, looking to Ironsides. “I think I am leaning toward the Grand Archon’s view, Ironsides. Even from a strategic point of view, retreating to the Lysandros system could embolden these aliens. What if they pursue us? Lysandros is only one hyperjump away from the Aureon system, from Neptura. The caution you suggest could expose the capital to peril.”

  Ironsides sighed, looking down and shaking his head. “Are we forgetting that these could be the people who built or destroyed that Dyson Sphere we claimed so recently? We have no idea of the storm we could unleash with these rash actions!”

  Den stirred in his spot, but Valen stood firm. “I highly doubt that. Your excellency, if these aliens truly did possess such power, I guarantee you that they’d be threatening us with a bigger fleet than what we see right now. What does a Nepturan Hydra do to ward off its predators? Expands its fins, bares its teeth, and shows off its claws. They show their power. These aliens have a mere five star ships to our six, and they’re trying to look big? We ought to blow them to smithereens.”

  The room remained silent, and the First Minister shook his head with disappointment. “Claric, you’re being awfully quiet over there. What do you think?”

  The scientist snapped out of his anxious trance, suddenly staring the hologram of Ironsides in the eyes. “Oh, me? In the realm of war, I bow entirely to the wisdom of the military command, sir.”

  “Very wise,” Ironsides said with a contemptuous tone, rubbing his eye. “Excellency, if I may ask, why are you even in the Lysandros system with Claric? You should be safe on Neptura during such a delicate moment.”

  His heart suddenly jolted, and he dared not look at Claric as the scientist shifted uncomfortably. “Never mind that now. I’m flying to the command center here as we speak, and I will return home when we come to a decision, or once this mess is over with.”

  Marcus glanced around the table, looking at each minister in turn. The consensus seemed to be for military action, even from Den who didn’t know that it was in fact Marcus who provoked the star elfs in the first place. It is the right choice… We cannot turn back now. For better or worse. Ironsides showed a certain pragmatism, and Marcus might have agreed if not for the star elf prisoner held in one of his research facilities. But Valen was right, it would look painfully weak of them to retreat now. Like an invitation to conquer them. To kill me… And who knew where he might wake in the next life. A slave on some distant hellscape of a world?

  He straightened his posture and cleared his throat, his voice cutting through the eerie silence. “No, we will not retreat. Grand Admiral Den, prepare our fleet in the Eryndal system for immediate attack. Strike them as soon as you are able, and leave nothing but rubble in that system.”

  Valen’s hologram gave a faint smirk, while the First Minster frowned but submitted.

  “Lieutenant Carthen.” Marcus turned to the adjutant. “When we get to the orbital command center, you will be my eyes, mouth, and ears for the battle. I want to see how this unfolds first hand. Den, tell the fleet to hold formation near the system’s edge until they are ready to attack.”

  “Yes, your excellency,” Carthen bowed.

  “Gentlemen,” Marcus said, turning to address the holograms whilst trying to stop his hands from shaking. “This is the first true test of our resolve. Let us show these xenos the prestige of the Nepturan Stellar Order. Of humanity, gentlemen. Humanity…”

  The ministers each murmured their acknowledgements one by one, saying a curt “Glory to Neptura” before their holograms faded into darkness, leaving Marcus alone with Claric and Carthen.

  “Tell the pilot to put his foot down,” Marcus commanded with a quieter voice. “We’ll watch the battle unfold there.”

  The clones left him alone for a brief moment. It could all hang in the balance. My decisions and resolve now could well decide the course of my fate…